Charlie is getting ready to go to preschool with his dad; he comes to give me a kiss goodbye (and to show me his cool outfit and spiky hair). I notice he is tugging at his pants in a conspicuous way.
Me: “Charlie, do you need to go potty?”
Charlie: “No. I’m just squeezing my penis. For some energy.”
I’m telling Bretty about a dream I had. An unusually large cat and an even bigger dog were charging a deer in our backyard. The deer stood frozen, helpless against the angry pair. Charlie’s listening in on the story.
Bretty: “Weird dream.”
Me: “Yeah, it was bizarro.”
Charlie: “I didn’t see that deer.”
Me: “It was in my dream.”
“Your dream?”
“Yes. It was just in my head, bean.”
“In your head?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you mean in your hair?”
‘No, I mean in my mind . . . in my imagination. When I was sleeping.”
“Oh yeah, yeah. Okay.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. But the next time that happens, I want to see that deer. You have to show me. You have to pick me up and take me with you so I can see.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
There’s a big spider in my office downstairs. BIG. I go to the bottom of the stairs and call up to Bretty.
Me: “Bretty! Come help me catch this spider! It’s super big and I’m freaking out!”
Charlie appears at the top of the stairs, dragging a play-sword behind him. He looks concerned. The sword is at least three feet long. Taller than he is.
Me: “Daddy’s going to help me catch a big spider in my office.”
Charlie: “Is he gonna use my sword?”
It's dinner time. After being asked for the fourth time to start eating, Charlie begins negotiations.
Charlie: "I will eat my dinner, mom. But just not the food. Okay? Just not the food."
