Yesterday, I asked J if he would like a dog.
He crinkled up his nose and said, “No.” He paused. “I want a mouse. With BLACK. EYES!”
Fast forward to the supper table. I told Mr. French about the conversation I’d had with J. He laughed. So then the other boys started talking about dogs.
C said he would like one. A black and white one like the movies.
S said he didn’t want a dog, he wanted a cat.
Mr. F made a face. He doesn’t like cats. S got upset.
So I said to S, “Maybe we can wear Daddy down on the cat thing.”
Then Daddy said, in an exaggerated tone, “Oh I know, S. How would you like a bird?”
S looked excited.
I made a face. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh, don’t worry S. Maybe we can wear Mommy down.”
Touché. But this was getting out of hand.
“Hey, J, would you like a dog?” (now we’re back on the subject).
C answered. He had been paying attention. “No. He wants a mouse. Oh, that’s not good. That would make Mommy scream.”
Mr. F agreed. “You’re right. That probably would make Mommy scream.”
(I have no idea where they come up with this stuff.)