This morning on the way to church Evelyn saw me eating my toasted ciabatta (from our local farmer's market) and asked for a bite of my "sandwich." Then she repeated, to herself, "Sandwich. Sandwich. Did you hear that???" She said, with a little shock, "I said 'witch!'" I chucked to myself as her little voice proceeded with vocabulary exploration in the back seat: "San---witch. San---witch. Mom, THAT is a funny word!"
Only about 45 minutes later, we were sitting together in our quiet Breaking of Bread service and she crawled into my lap. I was wearing a jean jacket, and she was leaning against those large, protruding metal buttons that jean jackets often have.
"Ow!" She said, slightly more loudly than I would have wanted. "Something is hurting me!" She turned around to look, grasped the offending button and then declared satisfactorily to all within earshot, "Oh! It's your butt, Mom. Your big butt!" I was practically choking as I leaned in to her and whispered, "ButtONS, Evelyn, they are called buttONS."
5 comments:
I just laughed so hard it brought tears to my eyes and induced a coughing fit.
I have since realized that Evelyn has remarkably few clothes in her wardrobe that have buttons, and that perhaps we should start exposing her to a few more euphemisms for what we've always called our "bottoms."
I love it! Jacob has a bunch of words that he gets close, but not close enough. It always cracks me up.
FYI: The blog wronging rights belongs to none other than Kate Cronin-Furman. She is clerking in Holland until spring.
You got it back. How did you do that?
That would be...the magic of the man I married. He taketh away...and he giveth back! :)
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