I picked my younger son up from preschool today, and as we were walking down the hallway to leave the building, he pointed up at a poster that displayed the letter B.
"What starts with B, Mommy?" he asked me, his hand in mine.
"Oh, lots of things, buddy...actually, buddy starts with B."
"And Bubba?" he asked, saying the name that he and his brother both call each other.
"Yes! Good one," I replied.
"And what else?" he asked.
"Hmm," I said. "Butterfly starts with B."
"Oh, yes!" he said, jumping up and down excitedly.
It was turning out to be such a cute conversation that I found myself wishing that we were being documented by a film crew to showcase what an awesome mother I am.
What? You guys don't find yourselves thinking about what kind of reality show your life would make? And if not, does that mean I watch too much trashy reality TV?
"Your turn," I said.
He paused, thinking, and then looked up at me, brow furrowed in serious concentration. "Does butt fungus start with B?"
On second thought, I was kind of glad my imaginary camera crew hadn't turned up today.
"It does," I replied, glancing backwards as I hurriedly scooted him out the door to make sure his teachers--real straight arrows this year, unfortunately--wouldn't hear him and give me one of those, "Really?" looks like they always do in regard to how I mother my children.
Perhaps it's time I reconsider some of the pet names I use for my boys.