Hazel was singing a Ke$ha song this morning. (Go ahead, judge me if you want to… but Ke$ha is awesomely fun dance pop, even if wildly inappropriate for children.) She sang, “And now we lookin’ like pimps in my gold Trans Am”. We all laughed.
So she said, “Pimps. Pimps. Pimps,” over and over again, the way that kids will do.
Oliver said, “You don’t even know what a pimp is.”
Hazel asked, “What is it?”
Oliver said, “it’s a kind of diapers, Hazel.”
… we did not correct him.
Then, later, the kids were playing the board game Life. Hazel had purchased a car at some point, and unfortunately, her car got into an accident.
She called up to me, “Mom! My car was in an accident! But it’s okay, I had no injuries!”
Oliver said, “No, Hazel, you had no insurance.”
I was giving Henry a bath and Oliver was hanging out with us in the bathroom. He asked me how people wind up on the cover of magazines. I assumed he was talking about magazines like Parents and Parenting, which are often lying around the house, and said that usually they are models who are paid to be on the cover. He then held up a copy of Us Weekly and asked why other people care about when people break up or start dating. I said that those people are famous, and people are often interested in the celebrities that they like and what their lives are like.
Oliver then asked, “Well, Mom, why aren’t you on the cover of this magazine then?”
I responded, “Why would I be?”
He said, “You’re pregnant! This other Kate just had a baby, then it’s your turn!”
I said, “Sweetie, I’m not famous. That’s why I’m not in the magazines.”
He said, “Why aren’t you famous? You really should be, you know.”
I (laughing), responded, “What would I be famous for?”
Oliver said, “I don’t know…. your cooking! You make the best pizza. And cookies. And salads. You should be famous for cooking…. and Daddy should be famous for pancakes.”
Having a seven year old is awesome. I should be famous, y’all. But, since I’m not, if you want to come over for dinner, let me know. :)