First of all, for those of you who tune in for the doctor stories, I’m on vacation. This is day five of ten. Therefore, I’ll be focusing more on my wife and mommy personas. If you want medical topics, may I suggest any of the sites linked on my sidebar? Good pickings over there for ya!
Still reading? OK, I have to tell you that Big Dog’s anal mass was just an adenoma of the anal gland, the whole thing was removed with clean margins, and he does not have cancer. Sorry for the dramatic post!
But the main topic for this post is yet another very cute exchange with my three year old. We are working on grammar. My dad used to cringe when we’d say, “I’m done.” I used his familiar line when Son used that on me today during a lunch break at the zoo.
“If you’re done, you must be a roast beef,” I said somewhat sternly but with a smile on my face. “Are you a boy who is finished with lunch, or are you roast beef finished roasting in the oven?”
“No, mama. I’m a turkey,” he replied quietly, looking at me from the corner of his eye.
Husband and I cracked up.
We can’t win with this kid. He’s just too damned cute.
First of all, for those of you who tune in for the doctor stories, I’m on vacation. This is day five of ten. Therefore, I’ll be focusing more on my wife and mommy personas. If you want medical topics, may I suggest any of the sites linked on my sidebar? Good pickings over there for ya!
Still reading? OK, I have to tell you that Big Dog’s anal mass was just an adenoma of the anal gland, the whole thing was removed with clean margins, and he does not have cancer. Sorry for the dramatic post!
But the main topic for this post is yet another very cute exchange with my three year old. We are working on grammar. My dad used to cringe when we’d say, “I’m done.” I used his familiar line when Son used that on me today during a lunch break at the zoo.
“If you’re done, you must be a roast beef,” I said somewhat sternly but with a smile on my face. “Are you a boy who is finished with lunch, or are you roast beef finished roasting in the oven?”
“No, mama. I’m a turkey,” he replied quietly, looking at me from the corner of his eye.
Husband and I cracked up.
We can’t win with this kid. He’s just too damned cute.