Not my friend...

Quinton has experimented with lots of different ways to express his anger with people when they don’t do things he likes. Initially he liked to call people “poopy butt,” but we quickly tried to squash that. He then moved on to calling people “stupid,” which I think I like worse than poopy-butt. Lately he has categorized you as either his friend or not his friend. If he likes you particularly, or if he wants something from you, he tells you, “you’re my best friend (he pronounces it fwond).” If, on the other hand, you tell him that he cannot have a candy bar after he hasn’t eaten his supper, he says, “you’re not my friend, Ethan’s my friend.” Of course, he will pick whoever else is around at the time, but you get the picture.

I can’t wait until he gets old enough to know what swear words are for…