Dialogue

The conversations with and between my little people have kept me in stitches lately. Last night, as I was heading downstairs after tuck-ins, K (my sentry) said, "Hey, who is in the hall?"
"Your Mommy, " I replied.
"Mommy, what are you goin' to do now that we are in bed?"
"Well, I am going to make some tea, read and watch some grown-up tv."
"Oh, you are going to watch Spongebob Squarepants?"
Not quite...

Then today as the children and I were wandering around a sketchy part of town looking for the sanitation department, we saw a shirtless man riding his bike sans helmet.
"That man on his bicycle isn't wear-wing a shirt or a helmet!" R tattled. "He is not makin' a berry good choice, Mom."
"Yeah," K added very concerned, "Someone is goin' to see his pwivacy!"
"No," P countered flatly, "He's pwobly gonna cwash and a car will smoosh him like a bug."

It goes on and on like this all day.

This afternoon we passed a homeless man smoking a cigarette and R said, "That man is makin' a bad choice smokin' that cigarette!"
As I herded the children across the street I leaned down and quietly acknowledged his statement. Then R said proudly, "I said it really loud so he could hear that it was a bad choice, Mom."
As I cringed and giggled simultaneously, I recognized so much of myself in my son. He is definitely my little Pharisee.