Tonight, we had spaghetti for dinner. As I plopped a wad of stuck-together noodles on my plate, Blake told me to "throw that at Dylan."
"Why?" I asked him.
"It will be fun," he said.
"No," I said.
"When I am a daddy," he said, "I will be a fun daddy."
"When you are a daddy?" I asked.
"Yes. When I am a daddy."
Amused at the thought of him in a food fight with his future children, I pushed the conversation.
"Will you be a daddy to little boys or little girls?"
"Little boys."
OK, just for fun....
"Who will be your little boys' mommy?"
"You can be!"
Alright, so it wasn't so fun, afterall.
"Well, if you are a daddy to little boys, I would have to be the grandma," I admitted.
"You know, Mommy, some families don't have a mommy. There can be two daddies. So that can be me and Dylan."
If that's what you want, Blake, you might not want to throw spaghetti at him.
