|Polos: These treats are mint.....|
I've mentioned before that certain people in the household are growing up rather fast.
The B in particular, it seems, is closing in on middle age.
The other day, The B&G had been good so I offered them a post-lunch treat.
Such things live in the aptly-named Treat Drawer, a receptacle that is, at present, rather well stocked.
The G, as is her wont, chose something chocolate.
"I'd like a Polo," declared The B, selecting mints that hadn't been intended for the household's smaller members.
Had the drawer contained some Werther's Originals (The W, who is herself growing up fast, likes them), I have no doubt that he'd have chosen them instead.
Treat time over, I asked The B if he'd enjoyed his Polo.
"Absolutely," he answered.
You see, he's not even talking like a four-year-old these days.
That doesn't mean that he doesn't still like a little childish banter, because he does.
The other morning, for example, in the playground, all sitting on the seesaw, The G dropped a conversational bombshell.
"Boobies," she said.
Silence, for just a moment, then The B began to laugh so hard he almost fell off.
There then followed a prolonged discussion that went a little like this:
The B: Boobies?
The G: Boobies.
The G: Boobies?
The B: Boobies.
I tried to intervene, really, I did.
Me: Stop saying boobies.
This just made things worse, so after a while I gave up.
It took quite a long time, but in the end, the boobies lost their appeal (I never thought I'd be using that line, not in this blog, at least).
Back home again and The B embarked on an interrogation that persuaded me that he is still a normal four-year-old after all.
Posing the most random questions, firing them at you one after the other, no time for thought, little logic, there is nothing more age appropriate.
The most recent highlights:
1) Is there an airport at the North Pole?
2) Is a pancake good at flying?
3) Is a magic pancake good at flying?
4) How do you build a tree?
5) Does Hello Kitty eat cat food?
The best one, number five.
Now, pass me those Polos.