Conversations

The other day before Adeline was born Bode was having a hard time finishing his dinner due to a variety of seemingly insurmountable distractions. We had given him a specified amount of time, and when that had expired he was saddened at the realization that he wouldn't be getting the hoped for cookie. Ever the optimist though, a few minutes later he changed the topic of conversation to favorite colors, to distance the memory of the lost cookie. The color conversation follows as close to the original as memory permits:

Bode: What's your favorite color Dad?
Me: I like all of them. What's yours?
Bode: Red, blue, green, orange, brown, black, yellow, grey...
Me: It sounds like you like all of them too.
Bode (with appalled tone): No, not the girl ones!
Wyatt: Mine are pink and purple.

Will someone please buy my oldest son a large caliber firearm and some rounds of ammunition and steer us to the closest shooting range?

The next is recounted with Ginet's permission. The fact that she allowed its retelling speaks volumes of her character.

After Adeline was born I can home from the hospital at about 7 AM. I had run upstairs to do something and as I came down the stairs Bode said, "Is Mom skinny now?" I told him that we would see her soon. (A keen parental and political tactic of dodging hard questions by providing answers that don't answer the question.)

Later that afternoon when we went to see Ginet at the hospital, Bode said to Ginet, "Why are you still fat." He cruelly repeated his inquiry twice after that. He's only now beginning to recover from the beating I gave him. (No children were harmed in the production of this blog.)