Boys are Different, Part Seven

Yesterday I was told two very insightful things by my children.

First Maya told me that I am a "special" queen because 1) I do all the work, 2) I do not have a queenly chair, and 3) I do not have maids. Such a girly observation from my girly girl that really believes that she is a princess and I am a queen.

Then this from Charlie on the other end of the gross out spectrum: For some odd reason he coughed and vomited a little while I was putting him in bed. It was clear fluid, he's not sick. But he had some on his hands and a little on his feet. Did I warn you this was going to be gross? So I tell him to stand right there, don't move and I'll get a towel and be right back. Sure enough when I get back he's standing frozen and stuck in the exact same spot as when I left. I quietly begin to clean him up and he tells me, "Mom. If you throw up and then taste it you'll throw up again. So don't try that. OK?" I shake my head. Its all I can do.

True enough, son. True enough.