We spend a lot of time in the car and most of the time we listen to music and Future President tells me about something he saw on one of his shows (“Mommy, did you know Pinky Pie doesn’t wear a crown? But she’s the queen?”), but sometimes he’ll ask me the most pressing questions that he wants an answer to RIGHT NOW.
Last week it was, “Are we rich?” Today it was, “Why does it take so long to be a grown up?”
I, of course, didn’t have answers to either question, so I did what any good parent would do and turned the questions back to him. “Do you think we’re rich?” “Why do you want to be a grown up?”
And like any child of two law-trained parents, he had to define the terms first. “What does it mean to be rich?” I again turned it back to him. “What do you think it means to be rich?” “Bananas,” he said, and made a funny face, then put his sockless foot in his brother’s face.
“I want to be a grown up so I can play with my kids,” he informed me this morning. I assured him he would get to do that, but he should enjoy being a kid. “Yeah, I get to play all day and you don’t,” he agreed.
“Yup,” I said, and after drop off, I turned up the radio and sang as loudly as I could.