“Next time I want a quiet dinner at home, I’ll just go out to eat.”
Dinner last night was your standard American fare - meatloaf, mashed potatoes and mustard-glazed broccoli - complete with the running commentary of a three-year-old and the loud and jerky interjections of an almost six-month-old.
Judah was interested in anything BUT eating, and Killian was tired and hungry when we all sat down together, so he was a bit fussy. At one point, Judah said that Killian was sad, and I told her he was fussy because it was time for him to nurse. She said, “He’s sad ’cause he’s hungry?” and Joshua said, “You’re gonna be sad and hungry, too, if you don’t eat.”
I just turned and stared at him, trying not to laugh out loud, and he said, with his mashed potato-laden fork halfway to his mouth, “What?”
“That’s such a ‘dad’ thing to say,” I said. “I mean, come on, can’t you just hear your dad, or my dad, saying that, just like that?”
He started to grin. “It is, isn’t it?”
“You’re such a dad.”
I guess this means we’re really parents.
February 13th, 2007 at 11:24 am
:-) the things memories are made of.