This morning in the car:
Sunny: Lookit that bird, Mommy!
Me (not actually looking because drivers should really face front): Wow! Neat!
Sunny: What if we had a giant bird?
Me: Then he could fly you to school in the morning.
Janie: And we wouldn’t be late.
Me: No, then he would be the one saying, Hurry up! Get your shoes on! Brush your teeth! Climb on my back, right now! Awk!!
Sunny: Mommy, you’re silly.
Me: Yes. Yes, I am.
Janie: You just figured that out?
Sunny: No. The bird would fly us anywhere we said—like the beach!
Me: Only on weekends. On school days, he’d have to fly to you school.
Sunny: And back home.
Me: That works for me.
Sunny: I want a blue one.
Me: A big, blue bird? Like a parrot? What would you name him?
Sunny: Perry. And I want a girl parrot.
Janie: Why do you always want everything to be a girl?
Sunny: Girls are cute and boys aren’t.
Me: Boys can be handsome. Daddy is a boy and he’s cute.
Sunny: Daddy is cute and I love him . . . but I still don’t like boys.
Me: You like J.
Janie (with audible big sister eyeroll): She loves J.
Sunny: I like J. because he’s a clean boy. The rest are loud and yucky.
Janie: There are a lot of clean boys in fourth grade. Sort of. Maybe three.
Me: Boys do tend to get better when they get older. Sort of. Some of them.
Sunny: I don’t think the kindergarten boys ever will . . .
Earful of Cider 