Victor, Victor, Victor-isms

Victor: Mom, I pooped!
Me: Oh, great! Where?
Victor: In the restroom.
Me: Um, Victor, there is no poop in the potty. Where is your poop?
Victor: In my butt!
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Victor: Mom, what are you doing?
Me: Flossing.
Victor: You can't do that!
Me: Why?
Victor: Because that's what boys do.
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Victor: I want my microphone!
Mariana: I want you!
Victor: NO YOU DON'T! I'M NOT A TOY!
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Victor likes to be in charge. This is nothing new. Recently, however, he has taken it to a whole new level...
"I'm going to help you. Say 'okay'."
OR "Can I do that? Say 'sure'."

Andrew overheard this one day and decided to try it.
"Mom, I want you to buy me a new car. Say 'okay.'"

It didn't work for him, either.
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As we walked out of preschool, Victor asked, "What do you feel on your face?"
"It's snow," I replied.
"NO," my smartie-pants replied, "It's snowFLAKES!"
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When Victor is mad, he swears. At least, he would if he knew real swear words. But he just uses every word that we've asked him not to say and it comes out sounding a lot like swearing. Thankfully, he doesn't yet know any real swear words although his sister taught him to say fartsicle thinking it'd be funny and would keep him from yelling his swear words like stupid, hate, what da cwap, and what da heck (all thanks to big brothers and sisters) except that when he says fartsicle it doesn't quite sound like that. What a humiliating conversation that was at pretty school. So, since Victor is committed to noncompliance, we have realized that if we tell him that good words are bad words, and show no reaction to real bad words, he will say the good words (with fewer bad words thrown in). Here's how it works:

Victor: Eden, will you read this book to me?
Eden: I will read it one time. Period.
Victor (upset that she will only read it one time): Don't say period!
Eden (realizing her opportunity): Oh, you're right. That's a good idea. Period is a bad word, a really, really bad word. So don't ever say that.

And sure enough, this morning he was mad at me. "You stupid period!" he yelled, "PERIOD! QUESTION MARK! DOT DOT DOT!" Usually I don't worry about laughing when he does something like that because he can't see me anyway but I have to admit to having a lot of trouble keeping my laughter silent when he actually called me a dot dot dot and thought I'd be upset. (And to all you folks who have perfect children, I wouldn't normally be happy that my child yelled at me but if you had to live with a noncompliant, angry child who seems to enjoy hurting the people who love him, you'd be happy, too, that at least you didn't have bite marks or a black and blue mark this time or that he didn't hurt himself. At a certain point you have to stop sweating the small stuff, or at least re-evaluate the definition of small stuff. And I've been called worse than a question mark or dot dot dot before. I can handle it.)

And later,
Mariana: Victor, can you please stop jumping on the couch?
Victor: No! What the heck question mark! Period! Stupid period!

*Sigh* Just another day in the life...