The other morning I told Porter I liked his yellow pajama pants. Which made him think of bananas. Which made him think of banana bread. So we got out all the measuring cups and spoons and bowls and flour and sugar and milk and eggs. And we started to make banana bread. And of course the banana bread made him think of avocados. So we stirred avocados and bananas for a while. And the stirring made him think of his chicken. So we had to go find "chick chick" so that chicken could peck at all the bananas and avocados and spoonfuls of sugar.
We never did finish the banana bread.
My kitchen was 10x messier than it would have been had we actually made banana bread.
And I will never again comment on the color of his pants.