It's Sunday, again, and I would be excited but I have to work later, which means my beautiful weekend has been cut short. Too short. Yes my lovelies, it has been rudely tampered with. But I digress.
Last week I posted the first six sentences of a conversation that the five-year old Jeremy was having with his mom. You can find that by following this link. This week is the continuation.
Who indeed, I thought, and found myself smiling, almost against my will.
"The dude who puts the food in your tummy." It was almost the whole truth.
"Can I replace him? He is working too slow. My dad would say he needs to be fired."
I have long found it amusing how kids have to specify that someone is theirs. My dad. My mom. My younger brother used to do that all the time, and I constantly had to remind him that his dad was my dad too. To this day he still specifies, as though I don't know who his dad is...
Until I need to race off to work I am reading fabulous groups of sentences by the glorious authors here. I invite you to go see their work.
Until next time!