|Joey as Steve Jobs this past Halloween|
Mommy. I like Miss Bea. But Miss Bea is at another school now. I still have Miss Rose and Miss Cape (Miss Kate), but I don't have Miss Bea anymore. Miss Bea was beautiful. You're adorable, mommy. You are my best friend. I love Mickey Mouse. Mickey Mouse is my best friend too, Mommy. Are we going for a bike ride today? I like my bike from Uncle John. It's Joey's bike. It's not Danny or Jack's bike. I'm going to keep it forever. I am 4 now. I will turn 5 and have a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. After that, I am not growing up any more. I don't want to be a daddy. Can I have some juice, Mommy? Why don't I never get candy? I like candy. I can open the little pieces, but I can't open the big pieces. The Easter Bunny is going to bring us candy, right Mommy? Will you help me open my Easter Bunny candy? How many more days until Easter? Is it tomorrow, Mommy? I don't have school for a long time because Miss Cape (Kate) said we are on vacation. I like vacation. Do you like vacation, Mommy?
If you got through until the end, perhaps you noted that Joey is on Spring Break. For two weeks. My four-year-old chatterbox is going to be talking to me constantly for 14 straight days. I've tried to explain that God only gives us a million words each to speak in a lifetime, and that he might want to start conserving his utterances. Joey's response was to whisper. Loudly. He figures God won't deduct whispering from his total.
If my blog turns into a random stream of consciousness over the next couple of weeks, I trust you will understand. It's all Joey.
He is available for playdates so long as the inviting mom has a strong tolerance for babbling. Anyone? Anyone??
Yeah, that's what I thought. And that's probably the only deafening silence I will be experiencing for 14 long days.