conversations

dear lovey bear,

a few days ago you told me you wanted to put me in the trash. it was in the morning before school and work. you said it with a smile on your face, but you were a little upset with me about putting you to bed without a story the night before and this was your way of letting me know.

a conversation we had tonight...
you: i want to go to the moon.
me: what will you do when you get there?
you: turn on my lights and engines.
you meant in your spaceship.

hello oedipus!

dear love boy,

tonight i heard this conversation from the computer room:

you: that's his girlfriend.
dad: do you have a girlfriend?
you: yeah.
dad: really? who's your girlfriend?
you: mommy.
dad: uh-uh. mommy is MY girlfriend.
you: oh.

just so you know, i love being your girlfriend. and i love being daddy's, too.

no dogs

dear sweet boy,

a few nights ago we read harry the dirty dog before bedtime. on the page with the picture of people eating in a cafe, you asked me what the sign on the window said. "no dogs," i read.

tonight we read the book again. on the page with the cafe picture, you pointed to the sign and said, "that says, 'dogs cannot come in here.'"

"right, it says, 'no dogs,'" i said.

"but he can go in there," you said, pointing to harry. it was one of those statements that is more like a question.

"no. they won't let him go in because he is a dog."

you frowned. "but he's hungry."

the book had, indeed, just told us that.

"yes."

you frowned some more.

"dogs cannot go in there," you said.

i felt you coming up against the world around you, pressing your face against the glass and not approving.

this is so clear to you: when someone is hungry, shouldn't we let him come and eat, even if he is a dog?