according to roman

{after nap during snack}
Me: Roman, aren't you going to eat your bar?
R: No, because it has crap on it.
Me: {laughing on the inside} it does?
Jeff: What has crap on it?
R: My bar. I not gonna eat it because it has crap on it. So I not gonna eat it.

-------

{during bedtime in his typical stalling fashion}
R: (in a whiny voice) 'Dada, can you go ask my mommy if she can come up here so I can pway with her hair?'
J: no, Roman. Go to bed.
R: but I want her to! (starts to lose it a little, then regroups enough to say...) Dada, can you pweese go get mama and tell her to come up here so I can pway with her hair? Can you do that dada?'
J: No, Roman. go to sleep
{insert fake crying here...for about 5 minutes, then re-groups}
R: hey dad. can you ask my mom if she can come up here and pway with my hair.
J: I'll come up and do it
R: I want her to do something else upstairs, dad. I want her to lay with me and so I can pway with her hair.