Thursday, September 29, 2011

Six-year-old thinking.

I asked Ali to brush his hair this morning; it was standing straight up in wild patches. He refused- "I want it to look like a mountain on my head," he told me. Well, okay. It looked like a mountain that would be dangerous to climb- with hidden crevices and sharp drop offs, but whatever!
Last night H wasn't home when the kids went to bed. "Tell Baba I love him. And I love you. And the baby." And this morning, after my goodbye kiss as he exited the car- "Tell the baby goodbye."
Did I write about how he wanted to see the baby drive the car? That is, me with the baby inside driving the car? That was a few weeks ago.

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