The kids are curled up with me this morning in bed, shortly after we'd all awakened, and Izzy asks me, "So what's for breakfast today?"
"How about eggs?" I ask.
"I like PaPa Ray's eggs. Call him and tell him to make me some eggs," he says.
"No, honey, PaPa Ray has to work today [that's easier to explain to Izzy than how far away they are now] and besides, just because you like PaPa Ray's eggs, doesn't mean that you don't like mine too."
"But I like PaPa Ray's eggs better! One time you didn't want us when you were painting our rooms and PaPa Ray babysat us and he made us eggs and now we're his!" he yells at me.
"Well, why don't you try my eggs today anyhow?" I reasonably ask him.
"No! We're PaPa Ray's children now!" he yells.
I have two thoughts about that, actually. The first is, I had no idea it was that easy.
The second, though, is I'm going to have to get me some of those eggs.
4 comments:
So, am I safe to come home now and not be threatened, er..., asked to take the kids back with me? :)
So, are you going to give the kids to papa Ray cause if you do, I'm leaving home! LOL Not really but it's cute that he likes papa Ray's eggs better than yours, I do too! Guess you're going to have to cook eggs the way he does.
Um, no. Guess I'm going to have to stop cooking eggs for the ingrates!!
That reminds me (minus the forty year age difference) of the time that Dad told Mom that "her fried chicken was okay, but not nearly as good" as his mom's.
That was in 1992. She has not fixed fried chicken ever since... :-)
Post a Comment