Tonight Oscar and I were snuggling on his bed before reading books.
He kept whispering secrets in my ear. At first I could not understand what he was saying to me, his lips were pressed right on my ear and he was speaking super soft.
After many repeated tries, I finally understood his words.
"Mom, I don't like pretty girls."
"Oh really, how come sweetheart?" I asked him. Slightly perplexed at how he knew the difference between a pretty girl and a not so pretty one (must be innate).
"I just don't."
"Oh. Well, who is a pretty girl?" I ask.
He lowers his head, his eyes bulge out of their sockets, as he forcefully proclaimed, "Well, NOT you."
A howl of laughter exploded from my overly stuffed (with rice crispy treats) belly. A tickle fight ensued, but I could not get him to change his mind.
Yum. I love him.
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1 comment:
Well at least you are skinny. Reagan keeps telling me I am fat. apparently I need to work on that.
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