Oh, you washed my shirt, thank you so much!

He's on a politeness streak, apparently. Last weekend, he was helping with the laundry as he often does. This help involves my dropping the wet clothes from the washer onto the dryer door, and Burrito pushing them into the dryer. Well, he spotted one of his favorite shirts (no points for guessing that it has trains on it), and said, "Oh, that's my shirt. Thank you, thank you so much." This wasn't a fluke, either. When he saw a pair of his pants, he said, "Oh, thank you for cleaning my pants."

It's not just laundry, either. The other night, Joyce brought one of his train cars upstairs for him to play with in bed, and he thanked her too. He also thanked me yesterday for getting him some juice.

This is too good to be true.

On another note, John doesn't know anything. The past week or two have been filled with comments like "I don't know where we're going" or "I don't know what that is" or "I don't know where we are."

I don't know who put this line in his head! Hey, at least he's making conversation.