This weekend I took the Peanut for a day trip to the seaside. As she usually does, the Peanut kept up a non-stop banter for the hour-plus ride. She likes to have a brief back and forth on a given topic followed by a series of declarative (non sequitur) statements. Such as:
"I'm not going to be a boy, ever."
"Um, that's right. You're always going to be a girl," I responded. It was as if this had just occurred to her. She sounded pretty psyched about it.
"And when I'm a big person, I can be a mommy, and take care of my babies," she said.
"I bet you'll be a great mom," I said. And I meant it.
"I'm not going to be a boy, ever."
"Um, that's right. You're always going to be a girl," I responded. It was as if this had just occurred to her. She sounded pretty psyched about it.
"And when I'm a big person, I can be a mommy, and take care of my babies," she said.
"I bet you'll be a great mom," I said. And I meant it.
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