I have a few more Oceanisms and, to keep it fair and balanced, we'll begin with an Irisism. (Oooh, that was very fun to type.)
Ocean woke up the other morning after Iris had already eaten her first breakfast. I asked Ocean if he wanted some breakfast, and asked Iris if she wanted to help me get it for him. She glared at me, popped her pacifier out of her mouth and, chucking it across the room, screamed, "I hungry too!"
Last night Ocean and I went to the store. When we got out of the car at home I had on my person three grocery bags, my keys, my purse and a collection of random cups and toys that had accumulated in my car. Ocean was holding a receipt and he tried handing it to me to carry for him. "Ocean, you need to carry it. I don't have any more hands," I said. "Ohhhhhhh," he replied knowingly. "Because the birds took them."
Ocean was getting dressed this morning and poked himself in the nipple.
Ocean: I have milk in my breasts to feed Iris.
Me: You don't really have breasts. You have a chest and those are your nipples.
Ocean: And they're full of PEE!
We were sitting on the porch today at lunch time with my friend Amber and her daughter. Phil stopped in for a bit and Ocean was showing him his game of throw the imaginary poopy diaper away. Ocean bumped his arm and said, "Crap! That hurt!" Phil just raised his eyebrow at me in disgust and judgment. All I'm gonna say to that is, people in crap houses full of crap shouldn't throw crap. In other words: pot, meet kettle. (But about 5 minutes later I'm reasonably certain that I accidentally taught Ocean how to deal drugs. So suddenly him saying "crap" doesn't seem so bad.)
And here's a special installment I'll call "I Never Envisioned Myself Saying This, Ever." :
"No, I don't want to smell it, Ocean. Especially if it's 'pppeeeeeeeeeyoooouuuu stinky.'"