It's been so long since I last shared a Carson-isms post, that I feel like I should explain, again, what they are...

Children, in my opinion, are the best comedians out there. Their humor is honest and innocent, untainted by the crude jokes and innuendos that so strongly influence our culture.

There are a few bloggers I follow who regularly post about the funny things their children say and do. Some of the stories literally have me crying from laughter, they are so hilarious. But even before blogs existed my mom was documenting these moments to pass on to me and my siblings ... Like the time my dad scolded me for being naughty by using my full name. Without hesitation, I retorted, "My name is not Sarah LeAnn Weaver, Daddy LeAnn Weaver." And when I found out that I was going to be a big sister, that there was a baby in my mom's belly, I was quick to let everyone know there were cookies in mine.

I am so thankful my mom made an effort to record those moments, and I want to do the same for my children.

Carson is adding new words to his vocabulary every day, and the things he comes up with are just the best. I know that there will be many moments I will want to remember.

So, this is a blog series about the darndest things kids say, and for now I'll call it Carson-isms.


Mom, mom! Carson tugged impatiently at my sweater, trying hard to get my attention. I looked down. In his right hand he held a purple jump rope, tangled in knots and with plastic handles. It's for the baby! I grinned, his love for this child growing inside me melts my heart. Sweetie, I don't think the baby will want that... As I spoke he pulled me down to his level and lifted up my sweater. Placing one of the plastic purple handles against my protruding stomach, he moved it around a bit and found what he was looking for. Swish, swish, swish. He made the sound of a beating heart, the sound he hears every time we meet with my midwife for a prenatal checkup. Hi baby! I wuve you. Throughout the rest of the week there were numerous times I was pulled into his room and asked to lay on his bed. Each time he lifted my sweater, pressed the purple jump-rope-handle-turned-Doppler against my stomach, moved it around a bit, found the beating heart, and proceeded to talk to his sibling, telling the baby about his cars or his day or simply pressing his face against my belly waiting for a small kick hello in return.

This morning, after Herm had already left work, Carson and I snuggled in my bed under the warm down comforter, chatting about our plans for the rest of the morning.We talked excitedly about what we would make for breakfast and about the scones with chocolate chips I was going to whisk up for a coffee date with the Breakfast Club. We talked about Lightening McQueen and finally about the baby. And it was in the midst of our conversation about the baby that we heard it, the loud, low grumble of the garbage truck making its way up our drive. In a sleepy-eyed hurried shuffle, Carson tried to crawl over me so he could run to the dining room window to watch the truck pick up the dumpster and dump the contents into its bin. But before he completed this feat, Carson stopped, patted my belly, and in the sweetest voice said, Baby, I'm going to see the garbage truck. I wuve you. Bye.

Last week one day I had a few appointments mid-morning. So after a hot breakfast, a few loads of laundry started and a quick workout, I headed for the shower. Usually I let Carson watch a short video while I get ready to go out, but this morning in particular he was playing nicely by himself and I wasn't going to ruin that moment. I should have known something was up, I should have known the house was far too quiet for anything good to be happening. But instead I was basking in the silence and thoroughly enjoying every bit of this uninterrupted alone time. When I got out of the shower I was greeted by an eager little artist with a bright blue crayon in his hand and a twinkle in his eye. Mom! I colored the house! He stood there expecting me to be so proud of him. He had given my once all neutral walls a bright blue stripe about two feet up from the floor. It started in the kitchen, covering the stove door, several cabinets, the fridge, and worked its way into the entry and hall closet doors, with a grand finale of bright blue exploding across the front door like fireworks against the dark sky on Independence Day. It pretty, mom? He asked. And to a question like that, how could I say no?


  1. Oh this kid is too fun! I love how you are keeping a collection of his -isms. Once Ayla starts talking, I hope I'm "on it" enough to keep a little journal with all her funny things too. :)