I want to write and babble and that's really only because I went back and reread a lot of my old posts and I was all snivels about it because oh, all those baby memories of funny little children things and blah blah blah... but I've lost my mojo and my muchness (but not my mastery of the run-on sentence) and therefore am forced to begin slowly with teeny little blurbs of life on this here old blog o' mine.
The other morning Hugh was giving EvaJun a hug and she was squirming and he was laughing telling her, "I've got you!" when she suddenly stopped and looked him and said, "Daddy, we are a team."
And Hugh's head swelled to twice it's normal size and he answered, "Yes, we are Twerps!"
She continued..."and Jake and Jack are a team and Chewy and Jones are a team and JD and Molly are a team and Mommy and.... and... and Pele are a team!"
I looked at her. Hard. I'm on a team with the dead dog?
Off she went cackling to scavange Hugh's loose change jar for .75 in order to buy Pirate Booty from Rosie the Snack Lady at recess...
Un-bee-lievable. What kind of child puts their mother on the team with the dead dog?
As she came back in, still smiling and zipping her coins into her book bag she turned to me and smiled and said, "You know what this is Mom? Dead dog change!"
I swear, I've never been prouder.
Just goes to show you... genetics and Team Dead Dog be damned, that kid is all mine.