It used to be that when friends and their babies/toddlers came over to dinner the adults would eat in shifts—half the adults would monitor the kids while half ate, then we’d switch. Somewhere along the way things changed so that now adults can eat, drink, and chat merrily away while the kids completely ignore their dinner and instead spend the whole time crawling through the cat door, trying on all my heels, and emptying out every basket, box, bed, drawer, and bag in the kids’ room. It’s beautiful.
But I’m thinking we might need to start monitoring again, as after one such dinner party at our house, Vincenzo wrote this at school the next day:
“Corson cam ovr and Abee we mad a son.” (Translation: “Carson and Abby came over and we made a son.”)
We happened to document their making of a son.
I’m thinking we don’t need to start teaching him about the birds and the bees just yet. But I should probably start teaching Vincenzo about the letter “g.”