The other day, Frédéric and I were talking about his potential work trip to London (which has since been cancelled). I was adding up how much it would cost for the boys and me to go with him. Then I realized that in my calculations, I had only counted one adult and one kid.
Noah was in the kitchen, and seemingly à propos of nothing, said, "Mommy, I want to go with you."
Me: Huh? Go where? What are you talking about?
Noah: Because you talked about one 'dult and one kid.
Me: (understanding dawning) Ohhh. No, no, if we go, we will take two boys, we won't take just one boy to London.
Noah: Yeah, because Benjamin would be so sad.
Benjamin came running to me in tears the other day because Noah had torn a little foam car of his in half. I chastised Noah...
Me: Noah, did you break Benjamin's car?
Noah: Yes.
Me: That was not nice. What do you say to Benjamin?
Noah: I'm sorry, Bee-jamin.
Me: Are you going to do that again?
Noah: No, because it's already broken.
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