Creepy Angels

Oh Geez. And he's only 3!

I just weirded out my son. Serves him right, though, for stalling when I kept telling him he needed to go up to bed. He needed to go potty, the dogs needed water, he needed to line all his trains up in a row, he needed to go gulp that last splash of water from the cup he'd abandoned several hours ago... he is very skilled in the art of the stall-tactic. So I finally borrowed a phrase from my reportoire that usually gets him up and hopping... "We're going to be late {for bed}". Either he hasn't caught on that he SHOULD use this phrase to his advantage to get what he wants since we're on such a short time schedule, or he was finally out of excuses and ready to go to bed... whatever it was, it got him moving on up those stairs, but not without asking the most frequent and most annoying question he has asked in the last month - simply "Why?" I really enjoy making up answers to this question. Honestly, I usually start by telling the truth but then it snowballs to complete ridiculousness that I can't even remember what the original situation was that involved him asking "Why?" in the first place. For example:

Roman: "Where is that car going?"
Me: "Honey. I have no clue. Where do YOU think he's going?" {Which is my attempt at flipping the question back to him for contemplation}
Roman: {annoyed that I'm once again flipping the question back to him for contemplation} "Where is that guy going?"
Me: {giving in} "I think he is going to the doctor" {Dammit... why did I say that? He's just going to ask "Why?" again!!!}
Roman: {bet you didn't see this coming...} "Why?"
Me: "Because he got hurt" {stupid, stupid, stupid...}
Roman: "Why?"
Me: "Because he was doing something dangerous and the doctor needs to check him out to make sure he's OK."
Roman: "What did he do?"
Me: "Hey! {thinking an abrupt change in subject will steer him clear of this convo} Do you want to hear "Zippety Doo Dah?" {his new fave song}
Roman: "Where is that guy going?" {At this point there is an emphasis on the words "that" and "guy" because he is just itchin' to know where another guy in another car is heading.}
Me: "Maybe he is going to the tattoo parlor"
Roman: "Why?"
Me: "To get the tattoo from his first wife removed because he would like to get married again but his new girlfriend refuses to say "yes" until the ex's name and photo are gone from his bicep."
Roman: "What's a bicep?"
Me: {loving his innocence that he is asking about the bicep and not first wives, divorce, drunk nights at the tatoo parlor, etc...} "The upper part of the arm. Where your muscles are. Can you show me your muscles?"
Roman: {flexing} "Where is that guy going?".... {another guy. another car. yippee... I get to make something else up!!!}

So we're in the thick of the "Why?-Stage." Even my 5-year old nephew Davis commented on how many times Roman asks "why?" {which I find HILARIOUS because just 2 1/2 short years ago I remember riding in the car with him asking that very question and my sister making up humorous answers just to get him to back off. I like how Davis is singling Roman out like he is the only child to have ever asked that question. Ever.}

So back to the "creepy angels." I weirded out my son by telling him we were late for bed because the angels expected him to be in bed by now and they would be wondering where he was. Yes. I seriously said that. Yes. I'm wondering "why?", too.

so back to the dialog:
Roman: "why?"
Me: "why what?" {please forget what I just said. Please be SO TIRED that you just forget...}
Roman: "what are angels?"
Me: "They're these beautiful ladies that fly around your room and watch over you while you sleep." {dramatic hand motions signaling the flying around the room}
Roman: {with big WTF eyes...} "They fly around? My room?"
Me: "Yes. They watch you sleep."
Roman: "Me?"
Me: "Yes. They make sure you're safe"
Roman: "Where are they?"
Me: "You can't see them, but they're all around."
Roman: {WTF eyes darting all around the ceiling looking for angels...}
Me: {backpedaling} "Just forget I said anything. You're OK."
Roman: {scared sh*tless} "Mom? Will you stay in my room for a few minutes?"
Me: "Of course, baby!" {feeling HORRIBLY guilty}