Oliver (holding thermometer): I’m going to take your furniture, Mommy.
Me: OK. (opens mouth)
Oliver puts thermometer in my mouth, holds it there for a few seconds, pulls it back out.
Oliver: 38. You’re all better, Mommy.
Me: Oh, good. Thank you, Oliver.
This comes a couple of days after Oliver took a flashlight, asked me what hurt, shone the flashlight on the hurty parts, and pronounced them all better.
I love that kid.
I LOVE this conversation, thanks for sharing it! 38…perfect. We only wish we lived closer, oh, the conversations Oliver and Claire would come up with I’m sure.
Thanks.
<3
We should find a way to meet up somehow…maybe during finals this year or something.