This morning was the first day back to work after a luxurious 4 day weekend with my boys. I was tired. I knew the boys had to be just as tired as me as I jostled them sweetly out of bed. “Hey mom,” my Quentin asked quizzically. “Do you get timeouts at work if you are late?”
“Kind of,” I responded as I rushed through our morning routine. “And if you get a lot of timeouts do you get fired?” he pushed. “I suppose….” I said, knowing there was more to come. “What does fired mean?” he said with his little eyebrows raised and his head cocked to the side just so. “Fired means I won’t have a job anymore.” A large grin creeped across his face. “And THEN, you can stay home with us!” he said.
I laughed on the outside, while secretly my heart sank a bit on the inside. “Well, yes” I said, and working to turn the tide I continued to respond with “but that would mean we wouldn’t have money for fancy toys like Beyblades…” I thought this may sway him, but I was wrong. He is far too clever. “Grandma has money! For Beyblades, and toys,” he said with a smirk. I laughed and gave him a monstrous hug.
That’s my boy. Always crafting some elaborate story or solution. I’ve got to hand it to him, he solved the problem so quickly and profoundly. Grandma… let’s talk. Haha!