We were sitting around the kitchen table. It was a typical weeknight evening, and dinner was winding down. Baked salmon, a favorite. I told the kids to finish their last bite, listen to Uncle Charlie, and we might have a sweet snack if they played their cards right.
But then then the conversation took a turn for the funny:
Hey Nola, what did you learn in school today?
“we learned about animals (oviparous, what?). They lay eggs and hatch babies”…
yadda yadda yadda…..the chicken and the egg story…eat your asparagus or else…. blah, blah, blah…
One thing led to another, everyone got to talking and joking at once, and now Gage somehow believes I sat on him for 8 months. Yes, he thinks he hatched from an egg. Because naturally, he did.
Sure thing, I’ll correct him tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.
But for right now? My boy thinks he hatched from an egg.
It’s funny, no?
(I’ll fix this before he starts dating, promise)
(it’s only temporary, I’ll show him The Business of Being Born sometime before he goes to high school)
And not at all on the same subject, but equally frightening is baby Paul’s love for being outside.
He’s brave enough (but not graceful enough), to go sliding down the kiddo slide by himself.
Greg Louganis, you have competition. This little dude is smooth. A perfect “10”.
Also, you’re welcome.