Ryder. . . . 'nough said

Oh, the 'Ryder-isms' are abounding in our house lately.  We can't get enough of this boy's personality. . . . . unless we have hit our limit of crazy for the day.  That happens sometimes.

But then we put him to bed and laugh some more.

(rubber face, anyone?)

Mom:  "Hey, why did you sleep in my room last night?"

Ryder:  "Because I was scared of the dark."

Mom:  "Well, it's dark in my room, too."

Ryder:  "But I'm not scared of your dark."

Ryder: "Mom. . . . he keeps doing that talking stuff and I told him to quit it out."

Ryder's Primary Teacher:  "What is something nice you can do for your dad on Father's Day?"

Ryder:  "Give him a piggy-back ride. . . . . oh, wait. . . . I'd better have my mom do that."

Mom:  "Be careful, Dude. My leg hurts."

Ryder:  "How many badlys does your leg hurt?"

Ryder:  (calling from the bathroom) "Mom, I have a big poo puddle in the potty!"  

Mom:  "How many times today are you going to do that??"

Ryder:  "We have to go potty everyday.  That's what Heavenly Father wants us to do."

Ryder: (with jam on his hands) "Mom, can you get this stuff off of my bones?"

Ryder: "Hey Mom, what does this say?"

Mom:  "You know how to sound it out."

Ryder:  "Reading too many words makes my tummy hurt."

Ryder:  (to Aunt Jenni, after visiting with her somewhat short, Hispanic friend, who had been meowing at Ryder for fun): "Where is your munchkin cat?"

(and later on . . . .) "Was his skin peach?"

And my personal favorite.  . . . . he says this whenever he wants me to actually pay attention to what he is saying instead of other things (which evidently I don't do very well):

Ryder: (holding my face 2" from his face) "Mom, look at me and don't ever move your face."