“carbage” and cake
So I’m in the living room, thinking about my mental to do list, including the stuff we need to accomplish before FirstHusband’s parents come for Thanksgiving. FirstHusband and FavoriteSon, on the other hand, are in the playroom, completely entranced by virtual sports. Thinking out loud, and hoping to inspire physical movement (other than thumbs), I say, “We are never going to be ready for your parents.”
and FavoriteSon responds (so now he’s moving his thumbs and his mouth), “Relax Mom, it’s not like they’re going anywhere in your car.”
“OH!”
Then, guffaws from the playroom.
“oh, no you didn’t! You little creep! Your penance for that smart aleck comment is to clean out my car!”
“nooooooooooooo.”
Later, after indulging in a piece of PinkGirl’s left over birthday cake, I called, “PinkGirl! Look.” and I stuck out my (royal blue icing) tongue. PinkGirl squinched up her face and said, “WHAT did you do?”
pause.
recognition.
“Oh NO you DI ENT!
“Oh yes I did.”
“Can I have some cake?”
