At bedtime Saturday night, Tim and Julia were super silly, laughing, kicking around. We yelled for them to get to sleep, and then I overheard this:
Tim: “Julia, Julia, want to hear a joke?”
Julia, giddy laughing: “Yeah.”
More laughing, then Tim: “What’s 8+9?”
Julia, still giggling and kicking around: “I don’t know!”
Tim: “Weiner.”
Tim: “Julia, Julia, want to hear a joke?”
Julia, giddy laughing: “Yeah.”
More laughing, then Tim: “What’s 8+9?”
Julia, still giggling and kicking around: “I don’t know!”
Tim: “Weiner.”
More laughing.
Boy jokes are so predictable.
He wants Julia out of his room too, and upstairs in her own bed. Last night he asked me, “Isn’t she big enough to sleep by herself?” Julia agreed to go upstairs if we’d help her find her GameBoy.
A couple weeks ago I was sitting on the bed, talking about all the good things that had happened to him that day. At the end, I pointed to Julia, asleep on the pillow, and said, “And you’ve got this cute sister.”
He looked at her and kind of wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. When she’s asleep she’s cute. Awake? A devil.”
This morning I got him down by the freezer in the basement… (Moo Jrs in there—I swore off those a while ago—too addictive. You can’t stop at just one, even though you should.) Anyway, he had his Moo Jr. and I hugged him off the floor and told him the whole family is better with him in it. He said, “Yah, I know!” love, Val
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