Wednesday, March 16, 2005

It's Not A Grape-el, nor is it a Flushie

Last night I'm sitting on the toilet and Max comes in to talk to me. (I get no privacy when I'm using the bathroom, like most moms, I'm sure.)

ME: Max, you have a freckle right there.
Pointing to his very obvious freckle on his neck he's had since birth.
MAX: (snarls his nose) A WHAT?
ME: A freckle, right there.
MAX: I'm going to go look in the mirror. (He goes to his room to check rather than looking in the bathroom mirror, comes thumping back down the hall.)

MAX: Mommy, I saw it. I saw the GRAPE-EL on my neck.
ME: Max, it's FRECKLE, say it with me. FRECKLE.
MAX: Oh, I have a freckle.

He has the cutest way with words. One day when Terry was going to the gas station (Max was 3 or 4), Max yelled out the door "Daddy, bring me a Flushie!" It was so hard not to giggle when I explained to him that he wanted a Slushie, not a Flushie.


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