MY SON, KING OF THE JEWS???

"Okay, Saia," he says from his perch on the fireplace. "I'm the King of Jews."

[WHAT?!?! I could NOT have just heard what I thought I did!]

"You be the tapir, ok?" he asks.

"Um...Chago, honey?" I call, inching my way a little closer. "Who are you again?"

Annoyed with the interruption if his game, he snaps, "The King of Jews, Mom! The King of Jews!!"

And with that, I swooped into the living room, snatching him promptly off his throne, and sat him down on the floor with me sitting directly in front of him, nose to nose.

"Son, where did you hear those words? Do you even know what that means?"

"What's wrong, Mama? Why are you upset?"

"Baby, where did you learn that? Can you tell me?"

"From a book," he says, utterly confused.

"Can you show me, please?"

And as I wait there for him to retrieve it, my mind is darting in a million directions.

"Here, Mama," he says, crawling into my lap. "It's right here, see?"

"Kink-a-jou. It's kind of like a Lemur. It lives in the rainforest."

[Oh, for pete's sake!!]