As Sam's verbal skills get better and better, I am treated to a running commentary on my every move. Tonight's dinner conversation is a perfect example of what we talk about 50 times a day:
I pop my last bite of garlic bread into my mouth, which Sam has been following with his eyes (his own piece is still on his plate). He immediately says: Mommy, garlic bread more?
Me: No, I think I've had enough.
Sam: Mommy, garlic bread more?
Me: Nope, no more garlic bread for me.
Sam: Mommy, garlic bread more?
Me: (sigh) No, I'm all done with garlic bread.
Sam (completely unfazed, mind you): Mommy, garlic bread more?
Me: Mommy's all done.
Sam: Mommy, garlic bread more?
Me: Why don't you eat your garlic bread, Sam.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)