Seriously. How am I supposed to maintain my composure while saying things like, “No, Joshua, Mama doesn’t like it when you squeeze your pasta?” And even as I’m biting the inside of my cheek to keep a straight face, the aforementioned squeezed pasta shoots from his little clenched fist; he looks at me, eyes wide in surprise, and says, “uh-oh.”
The way Joshua is talking now is amazing. And cute. And only to be understood by a select few. Yes, our dinner conversation often involves more than squeezed pasta, we also talk about many other things. Like busses. Here’s how it goes:
“Butheth? Butheth? Mo butheth?” (Busses? Busses? No busses?)
“Idee. Idee.” (Hiding – the busses have driven away and are now hiding.)
“Ah-dunga.” (All done. Since there are no more busses to see, the meal must be over.)
How wonderful that he's learning to think for himself, and also that he can share with us his innermost passions . . . be it busses or squeezed pasta. Life is great.
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