Housekeeping at 28 Months
Dear Milo,
I'm a bit late with your monthly update this month, and I almost decided to skip it completely, but there are two things you did recently that I wanted to make a note of.
First, you are under the impression that I, Mama, know every person on the planet. This means that sometimes we'll be walking down the street and some random guy will pass by us and you'll say, "Who's that?"
"A man," I will say.
"What's that man's name?" you will ask.
"I don't know," I'm forced to admit, much as part of me wants to say "His name is Frank."
"Where's he going?" you asked.
"Um, he could be going anywhere. He could be going to the grocery store, or going out to dinner, or going to meet some friends, or going to pick up his dry cleaning."
"He's going to pick up his dry cleaning," you said.
"Okay," I said.
Yesterday we were flipping through the New York Times Style magazine, when you did it again. This time you pointed to a group of men in an Armani ad, standing purposefully and looking off into the distance.
"What's that man's name?" you asked.
"I don't know. He's nobody. He's not anyone you would know."
then I thought about my response. Well he wasn't exactly nobody. He had a family, most likely, and hopes and dreams. Who was I to say he was nobody?
"He's a model," I tried.
"What's he doing?" you asked.
"He's standing around," I said. "Models just stand around." But that wasn't exactly right.
"He's selling this suit," I said. That seemed wrong too. I launched into a long explanation about how the modeling industry works, and how people put on clothes and people take pictures of them because they want you to buy stuff. this was mostly for my own benefit.
"Who's that?" you asked, pointing to another picture of another guy modeling a suit. I looked at the picture closely and discovered that it was Patrick Dempsey.
"That's Patrick Dempsey," I said. You seemed to accept that sometimes Mama knows the name of people in magazines and sometimes she doesn't.
Aside from wanting to know everyone's name and what they're doing, you have also started telling jokes.
This weekend your grandmother visited and bought you a little replica of a subway train, which you proceeded to carry with you everywhere for the next three days. So you were sitting at the table eating lunch, your trusty train by your side, when you said you'd like a little salt on your food.
I picked up the salt shaker and shook it over your food.
"Now I'd like a little train on my food," you said, and picked up your train and pretended to shake it over your plate.
We laughed for a long time over that one.
Love,
Mama
I'm a bit late with your monthly update this month, and I almost decided to skip it completely, but there are two things you did recently that I wanted to make a note of.
First, you are under the impression that I, Mama, know every person on the planet. This means that sometimes we'll be walking down the street and some random guy will pass by us and you'll say, "Who's that?"
"A man," I will say.
"What's that man's name?" you will ask.
"I don't know," I'm forced to admit, much as part of me wants to say "His name is Frank."
"Where's he going?" you asked.
"Um, he could be going anywhere. He could be going to the grocery store, or going out to dinner, or going to meet some friends, or going to pick up his dry cleaning."
"He's going to pick up his dry cleaning," you said.
"Okay," I said.
Yesterday we were flipping through the New York Times Style magazine, when you did it again. This time you pointed to a group of men in an Armani ad, standing purposefully and looking off into the distance.
"What's that man's name?" you asked.
"I don't know. He's nobody. He's not anyone you would know."
then I thought about my response. Well he wasn't exactly nobody. He had a family, most likely, and hopes and dreams. Who was I to say he was nobody?
"He's a model," I tried.
"What's he doing?" you asked.
"He's standing around," I said. "Models just stand around." But that wasn't exactly right.
"He's selling this suit," I said. That seemed wrong too. I launched into a long explanation about how the modeling industry works, and how people put on clothes and people take pictures of them because they want you to buy stuff. this was mostly for my own benefit.
"Who's that?" you asked, pointing to another picture of another guy modeling a suit. I looked at the picture closely and discovered that it was Patrick Dempsey.
"That's Patrick Dempsey," I said. You seemed to accept that sometimes Mama knows the name of people in magazines and sometimes she doesn't.
Aside from wanting to know everyone's name and what they're doing, you have also started telling jokes.
This weekend your grandmother visited and bought you a little replica of a subway train, which you proceeded to carry with you everywhere for the next three days. So you were sitting at the table eating lunch, your trusty train by your side, when you said you'd like a little salt on your food.
I picked up the salt shaker and shook it over your food.
"Now I'd like a little train on my food," you said, and picked up your train and pretended to shake it over your plate.
We laughed for a long time over that one.
Love,
Mama
Labels: Housekeeping, Milo
posted by Hana @ 12:06 PM
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