In support of my iron clad belief that a 4 year old has the memory of the ordinary fruit fly, the following conversation took place between Trot and myself about 45 minutes ago. After banging through the garage door when he arrived home from church, he proceeded to tell me on 3 different occasions that he was going to the beach in 3 days.
Once I got him settled in my bedroom in front of Sponge Bob and a cup of Sprite, I returned 5 minutes later:
Trot: "3 more days, Dad!"
Me: "I know, son."
(I knelt down next to the bed for the following)
Me: "I love you, Trot."
Trot: "Love you too, Dad."
Me: "I sure am going to miss you next week."
Trot: (With a look of total confusion) "Where I doin', Dad?"
Me: "To the beach, son."
Trot: "Oh yeah."
On the flip side? Let him catch you watching the ball game and halfway paying attention and he asks "Tan I have a dog, Dad?" and you mutter "We'll see" and he asks you the same question 7,498 times over the next 45 minutes.
This Week's Obsession Continues (As Does The Lie)
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