Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Why my children hate me

"Mom, is that wrapping paper I see?"

"Hum...yes."

"And what is THAT for?"

"Oh someone I know is having a birthday."

"It's me!!!"

"Oh yeah, you are having a birthday, right? You'll be what, fourteen?"

Giggling "Noooo..."

"Three?"

"Mommy..."

"Thirty-seven?"

"I'm going to be eight!"

"What?!?"

"Mommy, I'm going to be eight!"

"YOU ARE GOING TO BE ATE??? Who on earth would eat a little boy???"

"No Mommy, I'm going to be EIGHT!"

"So you say! How can I protect you if you won't tell me who is going to eat you?"

"EIGHT - like the NUMBER EIGHT!"

"Oh you mean like 'Eight Lords-A-Leaping?'"

Relief. "Yeah, like that."

"Cool! How did you get that gig? I didn't even know you knew how to leap."

"No mommy EIGHT YEARS OLD."

"I've heard that song a number of times and I'm pretty sure it is eight lords-a-leaping."

"MOM, I AM GOING TO BE EIGHT YEARS OLD TOMORROW."

"Oh. I see. I should probably wrap a present up for you then, huh?"

"You are so weird, Mom."

"Just doing my job, kid. Just doing my job."

Yes, I did.


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