Conversations In The Car

While riding home from the grocery store today, Baby Blue Eyes and I were talking with our friend JJ. Baby Blue Eyes was very concerned that he hasn't had his birthday pictures done at Sears yet, and I was explaining why I couldn't do it today. Too far in the other direction, need an appointment, must wear a clean shirt, preferably not a t-shirt, especially not THAT t-shirt, etc. JJ just listened quietly, and told us about his school pictures. Conversation drifted off for a few minutes, until . . .

Baby Blue Eyes: "Why can't I wear this t-shirt, Mommy? It's my favorite coyer you know."

Mommy: "Yes, Baby Blue Eyes, I know blue is your favorite color. But that t-shirt is really old. And besides, it might be nice if we brush your teeth and comb your hair for the picture. You didn't brush your teeth today, did you?"

Silence from the back seat. I look in the rear view and see his sheepish grin. Moments pass.

Baby Blue Eyes pipes up: "Wew, you ahways have bed head Mommy. So why do I haf to bwush my hair?"

Mommy, with some degree of exasperation: "My hair is SUPPOSED to have that messed up look. It's not called bed head when you are a mommy, it's called a style."

Baby Blue Eyes, grinning: "I know. But you still yook pretty, Mommy. Even if it is messy. Cuz you my guhlfriend, right Mommy?"

Mommy, exasperation melted: "Yes, Baby Blue Eyes. I am. And I don't look messy. But I am your girlfriend. And I always will be, no matter what you say about my hair!"

JJ, with eyes were as big as quarters: "Girlfriend? Eeeew! BBE, she's your MOM!"

Maybe it's time for a new look.
I'll have to consult my stylist and see what she can do about that!

And don't even get me started on the whole girlfriend thing.
Yes, he melts my heart.
Yes, he knows he's doing it.
And yes, his older brothers are completely grossed out by it
and try (IN VAIN!) to break him
of what they consider a "nasty" habit.
I shush them. Time enough for that.
Time enough.