Two conversations with the kids yesterday proved enlightening.
Daughter was having another after school weep in the car. No amount of logic had worked to stem the flow.
Me: I'm not sure why you're crying, and I don't think you know anymore either.
Daughter: I know, but I can't stop yet.
Me: Oh, okay. We can wait.
Son: Have a little cry. It's good to let the pressure off.
Me: Yes, good idea. Sometimes I do that too.
Son: Well, not very often you don't.
Me: True. I don't cry often.
Son: Usually, you just shout Ow, or something.
Son: And sometimes, you just Grrr, like a dog.
Son: When will we go to France again?
Me: Depends on what happens in a couple of years. We may go spend some time that way, or go to New Zealand.
Son: To live?
Me: No, just to spend some time.
Son: Will we go to school there?
Me: Yes, for a short time.
Son: But we don't speak New Zealand!
Me: I speak "New Zealand" to you all the time.
Son: Only the mean stuff!
Me: What do you mean, only the mean stuff?
Son: We only know "Ai, ai, ai!" and "OY!"
Me, laughing: "Oy is short for Oyez. And I only say it when I want you to listen up.
Daughter, very loudly: OY! You do say that all the time.
A time-stamped case of the Mondays
10 hours ago