All about perspective

August was having an unusually crabby morning the other day--lots of yelling and general discontent while I was getting breakfast ready which made it difficult for Boden and I to have any kind of conversation. I finally said to him, just wait until August calms down and then we can talk.  He waited a little bit and finally August was happy after getting some eggs and waffle in his belly.  Boden sighed and said, "mom, I hope when August turns 5 you don't have another baby."  Me, too; I don't have that kind of energy!

How DO monkeys taste?

Grandma Cindy joined us for the last half of our vacation, and being the veteran vacationer, Boden was more than happy to fill her in on things when she arrived.  After the house tour, it was ice cream time and he told grandma the flavors: chocolate chip cookie dough and chunky monkey.  As he was showing her the cartons, he held up the chunky monkey and said in a matter of fact tone "That's not what monkeys taste like, though."  We all got a good chuckle and then I asked him "what if that IS what they taste like??  We might really be missing out."

Boden and grandma on the beach building something important.

Existentialism for pre-schoolers

I don't know how we got on the conversation the other day, but on our drive home from school, Boden asked about everyone he knows that has died.  He's only 5, so thankfully it's a short list, including musicians.  Based on a conversation months ago, he often brings up the fact that Bob Marley is dead.  Then he asked me about the king singer in Chanhassen--I was puzzled at first, but he said the king who sings at the white office by dad's office.  "Oh, you mean Prince!  No, he's not dead."  In follow-up to mentioning Bueller was dead, he asked about Bueller's parents.  I said I thought they were both dead.  Then he asked about Sloan's parents--"how did Sloan get born?".  I thought it was going to be a line of questioning about reproduction but it took a sharp turn--"how did Sloan's parents get born", "and before that, how did the very first dog get born?"  I said I wasn't really sure where the very first dog came from.  Somehow we moved on to people and dinosaurs and how the very first ones ended up here, on the planet.  I said these were good questions and there are two theories, evolution and creation--no one really knows the answer.  I told him to keep asking tremendous questions and he'll learn a lot!  Thankfully, we pulled into the garage and we moved on to the important topic of what was for dinner.  Sheesh, he keeps me on my toes.

What's in a name?

We didn't have a middle name for August right away so Boden's teacher asked him the other day if we had decided on one, yet.  Boden said yes and he thought it was "April".  She said, so his name is August April Brown.  He nodded; she smiled.  I'm surprised he didn't say October, his favorite month!

State Fair Bound

I had zero desire to waddle around the Fair this year so I used my Lady-in-Waiting status to get me out of the trip.  As I was pregnant with Boden exactly 5 years ago, I vividly remember that State Fair experience...it wasn't a good one.  So I sent the boys off for a little guy time and some instructions to try to make a few healthy choices while they were there.  I thought they'd be home by early afternoon, but they weren't even off Machinery Hill by that time--too busy checking out all the equipment!  Apparently, Boden was telling anyone who would listen that he and his dad were going to buy a farm and he was  going to drive the tractors; dad was going to be in charge of the animals.  I got regular reports via text of all the fun they were having and I figured we'd have an exhausted boy by the evening--he fell asleep before the bus left the State Fair lot but caught his second wind once he got home!

At Alphabet Forest



Are you kidding me?!

In an effort to minimize Boden carelessly plopping around on my belly, we told him a few weeks ago that he was going to be a big brother; that Mommy was going to have a baby.  His reaction:  He looked at me, smirked and asked "Are you kidding me, mom?". Of course, I laughed and said I wasn't kidding him (nor do I have a history of "kidding" so I'm not sure where this came from).  He asked "where's the baby? Right here?", sounding a little skeptical as he put his little hand on my...ahem, bosom. Not exactly. "Nope, down a little lower, right here." His only other questions were about timing and if the baby could sleep in his room. I think he's expecting a fully formed playmate will arrive, ready to drive trucks and play on the beach with him.