Evan was walking to the playground yesterday with his babysitter, her son, and Caleb, when they were passed by a group of teenage boys. Evan quite matter-of-factly said to them, "Outta my way, punk!" Where, you ask, did our sweet little boy learn such language? Scott says that this is what happens when you live in the 'hood. I, on the other hand, am pretty sure he learned it from his FATHER, who frequently says similar things to Evan. (E.g. outta my way punk; what're you doing, punk, etc.)
We were sitting down for dinner the other night, and Evan turned to me and said, "So, how was your day?" Laughing, I told him it was good and asked him, "How was your day Evan." He said, "I went to Colby's house. I played with airplanes."
Yesterday at naptime when Evan was at his babysitter's house, her son (Colby) wanted Evan to sing him a song. He asked that Evan sing him, "I Feel My Savior's Love," so Evan sat down in the rocking chair and sang him the whole song.
Evan and Colby declared yesterday that when they are workers when they get bigger they want to drive garbage trucks because that would be fun. We're so proud!!
