Thanks for reminding me.

Goose: Ewww. Mom, this pasta sauce tastes like rotten applesauce.

Me: Goose, you like this sauce. It's yummy.

Goose: Oh. Did I eat this before and I liked it?

Me: Yes.

Goose: Oh! I like it! (continues to eat the entire bowl of pasta)

Guilty

I was in the basement doing some much needed reorganizing when I heard a thunk. Little E cried, the cry quickly turned to into a whimper and then quieted. I considered going up to investigate, but Jimmy-John was upstairs with the kids and Little E wasn’t crying anymore, there was no need for me to interject myself in the situation.

Several minutes later, Goose came to the top of the stairs.

“Mom?”

“Yes Goose.”

“Um, I was hugging Little E and I let go and he bonked his head on the corner of the bench and he cried and cried. But I helped him and he’s ok now.”

“Is Daddy upstairs”

“Yes”

“Did he help Little E?”

“No, I did.”

“Where is Daddy?”

“In here.” (she pointed at the bathroom door, the shower was running)

“Where’s Little E?”

“Upstairs in our room.”

I followed her up and found Little E cuddled up in his bed, sucking his thumb and surrounded with all of the most coveted toys.

“See, I helped him stop crying.”

Little E was reluctant to show me the wound, but when I finally got to it, this is what I found: