My first son is almost four and therefore inherently sassy without my gene pool making it worse. He says things that make me laugh and sometimes make me go red with embarrassment. (The thoughts that occur to him in a crowded public bathroom are baffling.)
This morning I began to brew my coffee and prepare breakfast for him and his brother. “[Big Kidlet],” I said. “Would you like some strawberries and yogurt for breakfast?”
“Yeah,” BK said. “But with no crunchy things.”
“Granola? I thought that was your favorite part?” I asked.
BK sighed a sigh that indicated he was frustrated with his mother’s perpetual ignorance. Then he rolled his eyes in a wizened manner that indicated once I got out there in the real world, I too would know what he knew.
“Yesssss, it is, but only on Saturdays. Today is Thursday, so I don’t like granola.” he said, exasperated.
“Honey, today is Tuesday.” I said gently.
He paused, but BK’s exterior never cracked. “BUT, it isn’t Saturday. So I don’t like granola.”
I can’t argue with logic like that.