In Which We Make the Bed
Fine Young Gent, 5, going by Young Link today: "Mom. Are you changing my bed?"
(Indeed I am. As he can plainly see.)
Me: "What am I doing, bunny?"
Young Link: "Changing the bed."
Watches for a moment.
YL: "Mom, are you putting on blue sheets?"
Me: "What color are the sheets I'm putting on?"
YL: "They look blue."
Me: "Indeed they are."
YL: "So, Mom, are you putting on blue sheets?"
In Which I Am Called Mom
Fine young gent, 3, also going by Young Link after much furor over the question of whether or not he can choose who he wants to be: "Mom?"
Young Link Too: "Mom?"
Me: "What bunny?"
YLT: "Hi Mom." Big cheesy grin.
Me: "Hi bunny."
Me: "What, love?"
Repeat. About 50 times.
Seriously, I keep trying to get them to call me Princess or Dude. Or Princess Dude. Or even Princess Mom. Anything. They won't do it.
If one more little person does "Mom-Mom-Mom-Mom-Mom" my ears may just jump right off my head.
They think it's funny when I say that. They think that just because I laugh when I say it, that I am joking. I'm not.
In Which I Sit on the Couch to Read a Book
Young Link, the five-year-old: "Mom, can I sit with you? On your lap?"
YL: "Mom, I love you. I just love you so much."
Young Link Too: "Mom, I want to love you too. Can I sit on your lap?"
Their brother whose pretend name I can't remember: "I want to sit on your lap too. I love you too, Mom."
Mom's reading time turned into wrestling tickling time. But it was worth it.
In Which I Make Lunch
Young Link, the five-year-old: "Mom, are you making lunch?"
(Indeed, I am. I've got the lunch plates out and fixin's for sandwiches. And I announced that I was going into the kitchen to make lunch.)
Me: "Yes, bunny, I am making lunch."
YL: "Are you making sandwiches?"
Me (Patiently, though I may have sighed a little): "What do you see on the counter?"
YL: "Bread and soy butter and jam."
YL: "So, are you making sandwiches?"
I try not to sob hysterically. I cannot wait until he stops asking me these questions. I know he will eventually because his brother stopped.
Me: "What do you think, sweetheart?"
YL: "You're making sandwiches?"
YL: "So, what kind of sandwiches are you making?"
Man, it's a good thing they're cute. That means that they will live to see the day when I miss answering the obvious and having them underfoot.
Life is good.