Seeing how sorely neglected this blog has been, Matthew and Simon, being among the more recent children of the lot, haven't had much attention paid to them here. As a partial remedy, here are two stories.
Matthew asked me for hotdogs at lunch a few weeks ago. I told him (in an act of immature parenting) that hotdogs were quite unhealthy and lead to cancer. Knowing that Matthew was yet ignorant of that disease, I qualified what I had said by adding that Grandma Anne had died of cancer. He immediately looked circumspect. With an arched eyebrow, he asked, "And did Grandma Anne eat a lot of the hotdogs?" I wasn't quite sure what to say because Grandma Anne really wasn't a voracious eater of hotdogs and I didn't want to lay at her feet the blame for the disease that killed her. Instead I just looked puzzled. Matthew jumping on my uncertainty, and knowing that the rest of Grandma Anne's family was still very much alive, asked, "And did the rest of the family eat these hotdogs?" And just like that he had outed me with a swift and precise cut of his sword of detection. Well done, little boy
I gave Simon a bath today at noon after a very early spring led to a very dirty little boy. He asked for bubbles and I provided. After the bath, I pulled him out and wrapped him in a towel and told him that I had wrapped him up like a little pancake. When I came back with a diaper, he was still lying on the bed thinking: "Waffle, mama. Me little waffle."
I then told him that I was going to take a shower. He asked if I would use bubbles. I responded that I would not. With great effort and his growing mind, he formulated the next question, "You hate bubbles, mama?"
No comments:
Post a Comment