Things Rhett Says

He's drawing a picture of his cousin, Emmy.
Rhett: I'm not going to draw a penis because I know girls don't have penises.

We're driving in the car and sun is getting in Ollie's face.
Rhett: Sorry Ollie, but there's nothing we can do about it. Jesus built the sun that way.

I'm trying, for the millionth time that week, to get Rhett to say things for which he's grateful. I'd been pretty successful, until now.
Me: Rhett, can you tell me something for which you're thankful?
Rhett: Mom, I'm pretty tired of that. My heart's just not in it.

On the way home from Thanksgiving dinner, Rhett's trying to decide if he wants books told on the couch, or two stories in bed. Normally we do both, but it was late, so he had to pick only one.
Rhett: I'm going to choose books. Know why, Mom? Because I'm bored and books beat boredom!

Rhett: Can I have a cookie?
Me: No.
Rhett: Can I have a snack?
Me: Yes.
Rhett: Can the snack be a cookie?
Me: [laughter]
The kid got a cookie. Can you blame me?

I'm opening a can of black beans. I finish.
Rhett: Good job you!

On the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of bedroom carpet wetness, I got tired of happy Christmas music so I checked Chuck's CD player (remember, my car was covered with a carpet pad). It turned on some (edited) Eminem.
Me: This is called rap music, Rhett.
Rhett: Oh. Who likes rap music? Oh, right. Mummies.
Get it? Wrap music? Laffy Taffy wrapper maybe? Halloween joke book? Who knows.

In the Bishop's office for tithing settlement. Because Chuck couldn't be there, I'm juggling both kids after a long, napless Sunday. Any charade that I'm giving off to the Bishop that I can handle this situation surely faded once Rhett said this gem.
Rhett: I have poo in my underwear.