At the breakfast table this morning:
Asher: "What's this black thing in my oatmeal?"
PChad: "Just a black piece of oatmeal, you can eat it."
Asher: "I don't want to eat it..... it tastes like a little bit of dirt."
PChad: "Well, then don't eat it, just eat your oatmeal please."
Asher: "I'll just eat the white oatmeal, not the black ones."
PChad: "That's a good idea."
Asher: "The black ones taste like dirt."
Asher: "There was some dirt in my oatmeal & it was black."
Asher: "Mummy, there was some black in my oatmeal & it tasted like dirt, so I won't eat the black ones, just the white ones."
Me: "Oh, ok, don't eat the black ones then."
Asher: "Chancery, black oatmeal tastes like dirt, so I won't eat it."
Me: "PChad, aren't you glad that your son got some of my obsessive personality?"
A few bites later.....
Asher: "I won't sing the Yankee Doodle song."
PChad: "That's good because you aren't supposed to sing at the table."
Asher: "I'm not going to sing the 'Riding on a pony' song either."
Me: "Good, can you please eat your oatmeal?"
PChad: "Apparently he got my song-constantly-running-through-your-head gene too."