Butter was fighting bedtime. We sat on the rocking chair in the dark near to a sleeping Peanut. It wasn’t that late, and though I was tired, he was being adorable as only a post-darkness, non-tantruming two-year-old can be.
Me: Butterbean, when you are grown up are you going to live somewhere else or are you going to stay with Mommy?
B: (exasperated) I don’t know.
B: I know. I live snow blower guy.
M: With the snow blower guy?
B: Yeah. Snow blower guy. Lot o ladies. Lot o mans.
B: Yeah. Mommy come back o lot. Daddy come back o lot.
M: We can come back to visit?
B: Yeah. Mommy come back o lot. Daddy come back o lot. Cat come back…cat make ice cream?
M: Can the cat make ice cream?
B: Yeah. Cat make o lot ice cream. Snow blower guy o lot ice cream. Mommy o lot ice cream. Daddy o lot ice cream. Peanut o lot ice cream. Butter o lot o lot of ice cream.
M: That’s nice of the cat to make so much ice cream.
B: Yeah. Snow blower guy like cat.
Well, sure. I can see why.