I want to be the kind of mother that takes her children to the library.
Today I did.
I also want to be the kind of mother that teaches the importance of health and fitness by way of example.
Today I did not.
I nursed Lawson to sleep and snuck away. Is “snuck” right? It’s definitely not “sneaked.” Or is it? Anyway, while he napped Burtch and I sat on the couch, ate popcorn, drank hot chocolate and read our library books. And it was bliss.
I love this little boy.
Here’s a conversation we had…
Burtch: “Mama, you’re too old!”
Me: ” What do you mean I’m too old? How old am I?”
Burtch: “You’re 30!”
First of all, I’m older than 30 so I can’t really take offense to that. But we’ve never discussed how old anyone is that’s over the age of 3.
Where did he learn this?
Who told him 30 is old?
How does he know what old even means?
Where did he learn “30”? We’ve never counted past 20.
You know, just this summer I took him to a speech therapist for an evaluation because his vocabulary seemed to be a little behind his peer’s and I was the only person that could understand him.
A few months have passed and now he’s trying to insult me.
And I love it.