Phoenix has a new phrase. Really, it's several, but only he can seem to string them together in such a way as to have us rolling. I would have to be writing it down in the moment to get it right - and, yes, even I am not that good at documenting. :)
Isabella: Get him out! He might pee in the tub!
Phoenix: Well, I wore a diaper yesterday, and I peed and I don't care.
Isabella: This is our room! Stay out!
Phoenix, shrugging casually: Well, I can't care it's your room.
Me: Let's head up to bed and read a story.
Phoenix: Well, I don't care.
Mr. Suave. And despite knowing better - he now has ME saying it. With an oh-so-suave shrug.
I don't care. In this time of limited (iced-over state of neverending waiting for ICE to melt) space to one's self (and by one's self I mean myself) privacy has become a premium. I have taken to locking myself into my room for a moment or several of quiet time. Purely for practical reasons! Like, a shower! Promise!
Phoenix's tactic last week was to knock continually on the door:
"Mom? It's me. It's just me. Unlock da door." (As in, we're good, right? It's just little old me!)
"Mom? MOMMMMMMMM!" (yelled into the crack under the door)
His new strategy today involved the use of tools. There was no banging or crying, only the tinkle of small sounds on the knob, and the constant twisting of the knob, as though he were testing it. When I came out, what do you suppose I found?
A popsicle stick.
An ink pen.
A coat hanger.
Give him a week. He'll pick my lock. He's so two.