Conversations with my littler gentleman are getting more and more colorful. Now he asks me, “Nice sleep, Mommy?” And “More crackers, Mommy?” He checks up on us to make sure we have our plates and beverages full. He makes sure we’re all safe and comfortable. Such a host.
For weeks we’ve been talking about Gavin — that mysterious bulge in Mommy’s tummy that she claims is something alien called a “brother.” Lately, Isaac’s insisted that Sugar (the dog. See below) is in Mommy’s tummy. This usually comes with his insistence about how Mommy is Sugar’s mommy, and while I try to explain that I didn’t give birth to a dog, he’s usually on to something else about oranges or dump trucks.
Until yesterday. He put two pieces together and said with a grin, “Gavin is in Mommy’s tummy.”
Eureka! He’s been listening. . . . And now I’m out of onions.