Big Mom

Last night I came home from soccer and Nate eagerly greeted me on the porch.  He was wearing his size 2T Buzz Lightyear pajamas, which might be more aptly described as his Pixar halter top and leggings.  He still likes these because they depict someone that flies.

He followed me into the laundry room and helped me remove my socks.

“Did you play football games?”  (He calls soccer futbol.  He’s got a bit of a knack for Spanish.  Even when I say soccer, he continues to call it futbol.)

“Yep.”

“When I grow-up I’m going to play futbol, too.”

“I bet you will.”

“And when I grow-up I’m going to be a big mom like you.”

“You are?”

“Yesh.  I’m going to be a big mom like you…  I’m going to be your mom!”

“You are?  But Grandma is my mom.”

“I’m going to be your big mom.”

“Wow.  OK.  So when I tell you I want to eat ice cream for breakfast, what will you say?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?  Can I wear my Superman shirt every day?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.  And can I watch TV all night long?”

“Yeah.”

“You seem like a really fun mom.”

“Yesh.  I’m going to be a really fun mom.”

I’m going to take this entire conversation as a compliment… even that last part.