On the Way to School: The Birds and the Boys

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 . . .