My Kid

This morning, Charlie asked me to have a serious talk with him. We sat on the couch and he started on what was clearly a rehearsed speech:

"Mommy, I've been thinking. I think I really really really need a robe. If I had a robe, it would keep me warm, but I'd still have my hands free to play or fight Jimmy. If it was really soft, I would feel cozy, and if I got tired, I could just lie on the couch in my robe. I think we should spend all our money to buy one for me."

Okay, he might be a little selfish. But he convinced me. There is no person in the world (with the exception of my own mom) who better understands the need for soft and appealing sleepwear than I do. I started browsing online immediately.

DNA is an amazing thing. I can understand how blue eyes, fair skin, and even talkativeness can get passed on, but love of cozy sleepwear?

A few days ago, as we climbed in the car after attempting to play in the botanic gardens in the 100 degree heat, Charlie looked at Jimmy's fresh, tan face and then looked at my red, sweaty face and said, "Mommy, why do you and me get hot but Jimmy and daddy just get brown?" I said I wasn't sure (I was too busy holding my face in front of the vents) so Charlie continued "I think you and me have a lot in common."

Well, I just got called away from writing this entry to break up a brutal fight involving hairbrushes and lots of tiny puncture wounds. So I guess we have our differences, too.