September 06, 2000

Having a conversation with my son is like talking to Lassie.  He understands well enough, but hasn't quite got the hang of those damnedable word things yet.

He'll come charging into the room with his adorable toddler waddle and tug at my pant let.  "Uuuung!" he says.

"What's that, boy?" I say.  "Is it Mommy?"

"Eeeeayh!" he answers.

"And she's fallen into the well?"

"Nngh!"

"Oh!  She's home from the store?"

"Ba ba ba!  Bump!  Mmfgh!"

"And she wants me to come help her?"

"Eeeeayh!"

"Or does she want me to keep sitting here?"

"Nngh!  Nngh!"

"OK, then.  I'll keep sitting here."

"Bup."

 



★