It is damned near impossible to keep a straight face around that child sometimes...
N lost his favorite blue fleecy jacket at the golf course today. Losing things he loves is hard for our boy. I was trying to explain to him that it wasn't as bad as he was making it out:
Me: It's just a jacket. It's a thing that you lost, not a person. It's not like someone died. It's just a lost thing.
N: But it IS like someone died. Jacket, Jack...Grandpa Jack?
And he crumbled to the floor in dramatic fashion.
(Usually, I can hold it together, but this time I burst out laughing. I think he bought my explanation that it was because he made a connection I would never have thought of, but it was touch and go there for a few moment. That child.)
Last night, walking past as I was putting food on his plate, N says, "Oooh, Fwench fwies!"
I look at him with a smile, and he stops and says, "What? I was just using my baby voice. Or, actually, the voice I use when i say something in a silly way."
|N's latest test of his ability to locate states and remember their capitals. His spelling. It slays me. Which one's your favorite?|