And Now, a Word...from Carson

After church one Sunday while Carson was still in Nursery, he came home and told me this story:
C:  One time, at church, there was a burned up bush on top of a mountain.  And there was a voice!  It was Heavenly Father!
Me:  Who was he talking to?
C:  Joseph Smith!  He had to climb up.  (He moved his hands in front of him to signify "climbing up.")
Me:  What did he say?
C:  Take off your shoes.

One morning I had to wake Carson up early.  He sat up out of a deep sleep and proclaimed:  "(mumble mumble)  MOM!  I just lost the spaghetti in my bed!"  Then he snaps to a little bit and shakes his head to clarify, "No, bread!"

When we were in Seattle this summer, Austin had a bike wreck in which he broke his left cheekbone and got a massive black eye.  When we returned to Provo, Carson learned to ride his own bike and one day he wanted to ride it down the grassy hill in our back yard.  At the bottom of the hill, he crashed.  I helped him up and, thru sobs, he cried, "I broke my cheekbones!"

Carson, like most kids his age, goes thru phases where he tries out sounds and asks what they mean.  Mostly they're nonsense.  Par example:  "What's a blash clash?"  And sometimes he tries using his nonsense words in sentences, as in "But the floating house came from a blash car!"

Another Sunday in church, he must have played a game or learned a story involving toy soldiers.  When he came home, he showed me how to stand straight and tall like a soldier.  But he was wiggling like he needed to go to the bathroom.  I suggested that maybe he should go relieve himself, but he indignantly replied, "Soldiers don't go pee-pee!"

A few months ago, we went for a family outing to get ice cream at the BYU Creamery.  Carson said something in a scratcy voice, and Austin asked him if he had a frog in his throat.  Carson said, "No, the frog is just," (pause to make a cold, shivery face) "COLD!"

Running up to me while playing with Seamus:
C:  Seamus was trying to get into me!  He was trying to eat my bones!

While we were eating lunch on a picnic bench one day last week, Carson struck up a conversation with a lady on the other side of the table.  He noticed that she had something written on her hand and asked her what it was.  She told him that when you get old, you have to write things on your hand to help you remember them.  This past weekend, Carson took the liberty to write on his hand with a pen he found.  He showed me and then told me, "This helps my brain to remember to stay in my head."