Noah: Mommy, you six or seven?
Me: Years old?
Noah: Yeah.
Me: I'm 32 years old.
Noah: Forty two?
Me, worried he'll tell people I'm in my 40s: THIRTY two, Noah. Thirty two.
Noah: You old?
Me: Well, not THAT old. Just a little old.
Noah: But you getting old?
Me, admitting defeat: {sigh} Yes, Noah, I am getting a little old.
Josh: Noah, stand still. Your shirt's on backwards; let's fix it.
Before Josh can put the shirt back on him, Noah says, "Wait! I wanna wet Chewie wick my bewwy button!"
Josh: Did you hear that?
Me: Yes. He is such a boy and I am so gonna blog that.
Noah: You gonna tell all your friends?
Josh: You know it's only a matter of time before he starts saying, "Mommy, blog this!"
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1 comment:
And just a little bit longer until he says, "Mom, you better not blog that!"
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