Saturday morning started out as usual – John John being peckish from the word Go. He ate a purple pluot while the remainder of breakfast was being made.<\/p>\n
“Mama, this pluot is\u00a0made from grapes,” he told me.<\/p>\n
“Hmm,” I said, “Weird.”<\/p>\n
John responded more appropriately, “You mean it’s\u00a0a similar color to grapes.”<\/p>\n
“Yeah,” said John John.<\/p>\n
Then he watched me at the stove from a stool for awhile. \u00a0After a bit he said, “I don’t feel good, Mama,” in the most normal voice. He didn’t seem like he didn’t feel good, so I asked him, “Why do you think you don’t feel good?”<\/p>\n
“It’s because I ate too many bugs!”<\/p>\n
He\u00a0wasn’t sick, by the way. \u00a0Moments after eating a hearty breakfast, he was dancing around like a crazy bird flapping to Mendelssohn.<\/p>\n
Speaking of birds, on Sunday morning, also during the breakfast making ritual, he says to John, \u00a0“Papa, you know the one where the pigeon turns into a black pigeon at the end?”<\/p>\n
“No,” said John, “Which one?”<\/p>\n
“The one where the pigeon turns into a black pigeon at the end when the music stops.”<\/p>\n
“I don’t have any idea what you are talking about,” John said.<\/p>\n
“I don’t have any idea, too,” was John John’s reply.<\/p>\n
I did, but I kept that to myself because of the cuteness.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Saturday morning started out as usual – John John being peckish from the word Go. He ate a purple pluot while the remainder of breakfast was being made. “Mama, this pluot is\u00a0made from grapes,” he told me. “Hmm,” I said, “Weird.” John responded more appropriately, “You mean it’s\u00a0a similar color to grapes.” “Yeah,” said John … <\/p>\n