Happy to Be a Zero

My birthday was about two weeks ago, so tonight in the cereal aisle at the fairly crowded Trader Joe's, my son said loudly, "Hey, Mommy, you're FORTY, right?" Yes, sweetie. Why yes, I am. "Yeah, I was just thinking about how you're FORTY," he said. Uh-huh. "I forgot that you're FORTY," he said. Heh. I didn't. ;-)

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Tonight while reading Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day together for homework (well, he was doing the reading and I was asking comprehension questions after every couple of pages), the kiddo came across a passage that mentioned Alexander's brother calling him a crybaby. "That's not a very nice name," said the kiddo. "But if you want to call somebody a name and not hurt their feelings, you could call them a crycat."

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After our book, the kiddo flopped over on the couch, looked at me and said, "You're number one, Mommy." Melt. "Well, actually, you know an even better number than one? Zero. So you're number zero, Mommy." Aw, shucks. He sure knows how to sweet-talk a gal.

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Speaking of sweet talk, my son came home from school yesterday and told me he'd been holding hands with a girl who sits at his table. Well, golly. I thought I had at least four more years before I had to deal with any of this stuff. Anyway, I filed this tidbit away for future reference. Okay, I wanted to process it a little. Later that evening, as my son spoke with my mom on the phone, I heard him say this girl is his "girlfriend."

Heh. More anon...