I can just sit and watch Rhett(5) talk for hours.
And he will.
He has a lyrical tone that mixes with mid-word giggles and a precious mispronunciation of r’s.
When he is telling a story, you can see brain cogs moving and a realization wash over his face that he is funny.
He cracks himself up.
Last night, this was our conversation:
Mommy, I know a boy who dosn’t flush the toilet.
I know a boy who doesn’t take a bath.
He must smell terrible.
I know a boy who doesn’t brush his teeth.
I bet no one wants to be around him.
I know a boy who doesn’t wear clothes!
He doesn’t wear clothes?
He runs around naked all day.
I bet he doesn’t make his bed.
No, he definitely doesn’t make his bed.
I bet he doesn’t pick up his toys.
No, he definitely doesn’t pick up his toys.
I bet he doesn’t pick up his clothes.
Mommy! He doesn’t WEAR clothes.
He walks around all stinky and naked?
Yes. And all he eats is candy.
Who is this boy?
He lives inside my brain.