He looks like such an angel. Because somehow artists of yore always depicted angels as blond two-and-a-half-year-olds with chubby cheeks. Had they never actually met any?
A sampling from yesterday:
1) At lunch, he started banging his spoon on his highchair, making a ton of noise. His dad said "Please stop making that noise, it's really annoying." And he responded, calm as could be, "That's why I'm DOING it, Daddy."
2) After spreading a paste of water and dissolved starch-based packing peanuts all over the kitchen floor (aha, you didn't know the starch-based ones dissolved in water, did you?), I came in and yelled at him about not making messes, not getting stuff all over the floor and keeping water in the sink, where it belongs. To which he said "Mama, that mess is there for a REASON."
And in a less contrarian but nonetheless kind of creepy vein:
3) He was playing with his pieces of squash at lunch, having one piece talk to the other. He had one piece of squash ask the other "You want a platinum mastercard?"
Apparently someone's been reading the junkmail out loud when there are two-year-olds present...