There are approximately 60 piles of toys in my home. And, in these 60 or so piles you would find about 147 motorcycles (ok, maybe that's an exaggeration, but not by much). This morning on the way to school Connor was playing with one of his billion motorcycles.
He said, "Mama, what kind of motorcycle is this?" I said, "It's a dirt bike." Exasperated he said, "NO, what KIND of dirt bike?" "Ohhhhhhhh. It's a Kawasaki, "I replied*.
He said, "I'm calling it a 50saki." To which I replied, "After 50 saki he wouldn't be a very good driver." Under his breath he whispered, "I don't know what you are talking about." Awkward silence followed.
This was very familiar to me as most of my conversations end in the same manner.
After 5 minutes or so he piped up and said, "My underwear is up in my bum." Followed by, "I got it out Mama."
I wish adults were as forgiving of my awkward conversation style as my 4 year old. It would definitely help cut down on my therapy sessions.
*You might be wondering how I knew this answer so quickly. It's because I have stepped on this particular motorcycle nothing short of 15 times in the middle of the night. So, the Kawasaki logo is permanently imprinted on the bottom of my right foot.
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