He’s such good company. Really he is. Today he strolled (and ran) 3.2 miles with me during the local cystic fibrosis walk we participate in for his friend Hayden (and my friend Patti). All along the route he chattered. And chattered. And chattered. It’s exhausting sometimes, but it’s also fun because he says the most interesting things. Plus, we get to have random conversations about the IMF, tip jars and their purpose and how to get someone to the hospital fast if the medivac helicopter runs into a lot of traffic in its airspace. (That last one is still a mystery.)
I wonder sometimes when he’ll decide he doesn’t want to chat with me anymore. Sometime in the teenage years, maybe. Or sooner? I’m scared of that moment, to be honest. I’m hoping that all of this early communication will make it such a natural thing that he’ll forget altogether that I’m uncool at some point and just keep talking. One can only hope, right?
Oh, and he can tell jokes too. During a scene in The Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship is running for their lives across a very, very narrow bridge. He turns to me and says, “Mom, wouldn’t it be funny if there was a sign on the bridge that said Single File Only?” Why, yes, Devin it would definitely be funny!
the IMF? Really?