The Drama of the Verbally Gifted Child, Part II

There are days when I start to wonder if I made the right choice to be a stay at home mom. Those days when I can only muster a weak, "You're on" when Daddy arrives home after work. The days when I have wiped so many noses and rears and tears that I have given up and resorted to using my shirt sleeve for all three jobs.

And then Thing One and I have one of those moments that only a toddler and a parent can have, a moment when I am sure he gets It, a moment that, while likely gone from his memory by 3 p.m. Tuesday, will surely live on in his little heart forever.

Thing One: Where's Connie?

Me: Connie is at home.

TO: Where does Connie live?

Me: Connie lives next to Mr. H.

TO: Where does Mr. H. live?

Me: Across the alley.

TO: Where's the alley?

Me: Behind our garage.

TO: Where's our garage?

Me: Behind our house.

TO: Where's our house?

Me: On _______ Ave.

TO: Where's Connie's house?

Me: On _______ Ave.

TO: Where's _______ Ave?

Me: Across the alley.

TO: Where's the alley?

Me: Between our house and Connie's house. You know where the garage is? That's the alley.

TO: Where's Connie's alley?

Me: Well, the alley belongs to everyone, so our alley is Connie's alley.

TO: That's Me'ses alley.

Me: Yes, that's your alley and Connie's alley, too. It's also Mr. H's alley.

TO: Where's Mr. H?

Me: Oh, probably in his house.

TO: Where's Mr. H's house?

Me: Next to Connie's house.

TO: Where's Connie's house?

Me: Across the alley.

TO: Can we go see Connie?

Me: Maybe we'll see Connie when we take a walk later.

TO: But we can't touch shes's skasketball without asking.

Me: No, we can't touch her basketball.