And Then I ...

Daily, Francis' imagination reveals itself. There's a lot going on in there, apparently. He is learning to tell antidotes, and wants to be in on the dinner-time conversation. Oh, did I say conversation? As in, I talk and you listen, then you talk and I listen, and we both talk about something related, so there is a logical thread in the back-and-forth? With Francis, it is All-Francis-AlltheTime. "And then he went like this? Like dat, Momma? And there was a peacock? And he had a big big tail? And the boy laughed? Like dat, Momma?" (Momma is nodding vaguely at this point, her mind in rapid rewind. Where? When? Is this a real event, or a make-believe? Something we read in a book?) "Oh, you saw the peacock when you went to the zoo with Grandma?". Impatient nodding. Of course, Momma, you dolt.

The other great thing about 3-year-olds is how they mirror the worst parts of yourself. You hear yourself in their squeaky little voices and you think, good god, I sound like that? As in, "Daniel, where you are? Daniel!" Or, "Momma, I am very disappointed in you. 'Cause I need that cookie." "Hello, Stella? How is my sweet sweet girl?" (in falsetto).