eliot-ism

Yesterday, Owen put his hand on the steam that was coming out of the humidifier.

"No, Owen," I said in my very stern mommy voice. "Hot. No touch."

I spent the rest of the day teaching them about things that are hot. Stove? Hot. No touch. Candle? Hot. No touch. Mike's little stereo whatchamajigger that makes the sound system all cool and guy-like. Hot. No touch.

So, this morning, Eliot walks over to the humidifier, and places her hand on top of the steam (uhh. hello?).
"Eliot, what did mommy say? No touch." She looked at her hand, and walked away happily.

Five minutes later, she came up to me and said, "Daddy's hot."
And I smiled, and said, "Yes, daddy is hot."
"No touch, mommy. No touch."