"A is for...apple! What's next, Mommie?."
"B", I say. "As in 'Be quiet, I'm sleeping!'"
"Funny Mommie," he says, then keeps going until halfway through the alphabet, when he gets to L.
"L. Hmmm. L. Lalala, how about, L is for Alto!"
I swing him off the bed and carry him upside down and giggling to breakfast, wondering how many more mornings we have where he'll still be small enough for me to whoosh him around like a small boy, how big he already is to be able to play with words, and how these moments I must remember.
2 comments:
Just when you reckon he'll be big enough and muscular enough to load the car at the supermarket he'll be off to university, married, into business, become governor of Alaska and you'll only see him at Thanksgiving. Male children are useless; I know, I was one myself.
Robbie, he already carries the veggies home from the store for me (luckily it isn't far). With our examples in front of him, I expect he will be in Alaska!
Still thinking about the music, I'll write you more about it as soon as I have something of an answer.
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