First things first, if you didn’t read the reblog from yesterday, shame on you. Because this is where you go to have fingers wagged at you, you’re welcome. And my friends are on a roll because my girl, Babs, just dropped a mic, as well, and you should go to. (That was a link. Click it.)
Speaking of Babs, she just LITERALLY blew my mind. (Yes, I’m giggling to myself. Figuratively.) So I tweeted about how as we walked home in the not so gently falling snow [read: it was sort of like getting occasionally punched on top of my head by someone made of mush] my 8 year old son told me that he’d put a snowball in his pocket at recess. To which my mom brain went: …of course you did. See, you might have been ready to ask “why”…but then. You might not be a parent. Onward!
So anyway! At some point, I realized he meant, “I put a snowball in my pocket at recess… and it’s still in my pocket.” Which still basically got this response:
And believe me, it’s not even that he’s ever done this before. It’s just that I’ve known him a few years now.
So, I tweet about it. And Babs asks if I know a book by Ezra Jack Keats called “The Snowy Day”. And that the boy puts a snowball in his pocket to take home. And then my brain straight fell. down. Because my son’s name is Ezra. O_O I mean, because this:
Seeing as he used the word “ain’t” the other day because he’s reading the book Shiloh, I feel like maybe my son should be watched extra close. Like forever because I totally can’t remember every book he’s ever read and how they might translate into our lives. But I do know he’s read all of the How To Train Your Dragon books thus far. So that can’t be good. >.>