When my girls got home from school today, B opened the door and called my name in a weird voice. I of course had a mini heart attack because I over react when I think something might be wrong. It turns out her classmate/friend/sender of Valentine flowers had followed her home from school and was standing in my garage...waiting for permission to come in and "work on some drawings with Bella". I granted my stunned permission with the qualification, "only if his mother knows where he is". The little punk outsmarted me...he had already texted her for permission. Why is a cell phone wielding 8 year old boy texting people in my garage? Serenity now!Because I insist on documenting all of the minutia of my life on this blog...I sneaked to the window like a spy for photographic evidence of this event. Luckily his mother only granted him "15 minutes" before he had to come home.
He used those closer to 30 minutes to dazzle her with his conversational skills, including asking pertinent questions about what I can only assume was every single fact he had managed to gather about her over the course of the school year. We ran the gamut from "where are your tomato plants" to "what days do you have soccer".
My favorite quote from their conversation:
Boy: Hmmm...I can see by looking around here you guys have a lot more money than me. So, what does your mom do for a living?
Belle: She stays home and takes care of the babies...and us...and sometimes she works on her computer.
Kids are hilarious. And in my house's defense, the boy comes from an enormous family, we aren't exactly Rockefellers.
And a final noteworthy item. My son jumped out of his crib today. Stop the ride, I want to get off.