May I always remember...

{Potty-training an independent little gal, said her undies were "just fine mom"}

I could hear them giggling ferociously as they climbed the stairs Mother's Day morning. From my bed I saw Zach holding my breakfast plate as carefully as he could, taking deliberate steps and watching it intently, so nothing would spill. Behind him was little Lily with a half-full glass of milk. She was rushing down the hallway and the milk was sloshing in, and out of, the cup. She got to my nightstand,banged it down, and said, "I spilled milk on the stairs mom, but it was just an accident!" They watched me with anticipation, asking after every bite if I liked my meal. I loved it. I remember watching my mom with the same anticipation. It was so exciting to do something for her. Zach kept coming back to check on my progress. I could tell he was trying to keep a secret, something was up. Finally, he could hold it in no longer, "Momareyoudone? Wehavechocolateandbanilladownstairswhenyouaredone." And then thoughtfully, But I don't want Daddy to know what I said!"

This is where the post falls into the toilet. Really, toilet humor. I can't help myself. This morning Zach and I had a memorable conversation.

After he announced this (so matter-of-factly) I tried hard, VERY HARD to keep a straight face and think of the appropriate reply. No use. I busted up laughing. And then I ran to write it down so I could read it later, word for word, to David...

{From the fascinating life files of a 4 year old boy}