"Do you like oranges, Connor?"
"Yes, I do."
"Have you ever had an orange before?"
"No, I haven't."
And with that, Connor promptly ate almost an entire orange. I cannot begin to point out how odd a behavior this is for Connor.
"Would you like to play trains with me?"
"Sure, but I would like to brush my teeth first."
"No, play trains with me right now."
"Connor, do you know where the little screwdrivers are?"
"Where are they?" (Said with an air of hopefulness.)
"I don't know."
Ed and Connor have actually had this conversation almost daily since our Oktoberfest party when Connor was allowed to touch the little screwdrivers while Ed changed the speaker routing on the stereo. Mysteriously, with Ed's back turned, every screwdriver in the set - save the one Ed had in his hand - disappeared.
"Is this a couch or a sofa?"
"Is this a car seat or a car carrier?" (Sorry, Connor, I forgot you like things to be called exactly one thing.)
"Fucking tape!" (Thankfully, this was said by Ed, who was trying to tape a package. By the time I looked at his tape mess, it looked exactly like the tape balls Connor hands me with a look of total confusion. As in, how could my beloved tape fold up on itself like this? All I wanted to do was see how far I could pull it out for no good reason.)
"Let's look for digger trucks!"
"How do you move a mountain?"
"Get a dump truck, and a digger truck, and a wheelbarrow, and a rake, and a shovel, and a hoe..." (The original text of the book stopped at dump truck, but Connor decided that was an oversimplification of the process.)
"My son called his brother to tell him he was at a house with a million toys!" (My cleaning lady told me this. Her kindergarten son accompanied her to my house today.)
"Why did Carmelina put all these toys in my way?"
"That's called putting them away, Connor."
And best of all...
"Wow, little dude is actually going to get a good nap today. It's already been almost 3 hours."