We like to eat at Taco Bell. We like to get drinks with our meal. We almost always eat in the car. Without fail, Ed drinks his drink, takes out his straw, and then yells, "Ow, ow, ow, Mom! I'm stuck! It hurts!" The problem is that he sticks his finger in the straw hole. Once it's in, it's difficult to take out without getting little cuts. Try it. It hurts.
On Sunday we all took naps, and he was the first one awake. He came into our room, and Ryan mumbled to him, "Go back to bed." I got up anyway and came downstairs. Ed came up to me and says, "Mom? I have a wittle, wittle, small pwobwem."
"What is it?" (I was cracking up!)
"Well, I have to go potty, but Dad said to go to bed!"
He also does this weird thing where he sniffs a couple of times and says, "Hey, Mom! I smell something! I smell...*sniff*... HOT DOGS!" Regardless of where we are or what it really smells like, he smells hot dogs.