What my husband said in a pretend conversation with the guy who almost ran him over during his run downtown this afternoon:
“You want a slice-a this beefcake? You’re gonna need a fork, buddy.”
I thought it was precious.
Birdy doing several “silly walks” all around the wide ledges of the Parthenon, including a totally kick-ass robot walk that would make the Beastie Boys stand up and cheer. Intergalactic, planetary! (that is not Bird in the photo. That is not even my photo. But that is the Parthenon.)
Lunch time, Bird and I standing at the edge of the duck pond at the park, sans bread, when a sweet little girl came over to us and offered Birdy the top of a hamburger bun from her duck-bread stash. We said thank you, the girl moved on, and Birdy sat there for a second, staring at the bun.
She looked up at me and whispered, “Mom, can I eat this?”
20 minutes spent staring at, wondering about, and discussing in great detail a dead squirrel on the side of the walking path.
And most wonderful:
My Bird can read!
Fat Cat Rat Hat Splat! Can Ran Stand Pants! Hop Pop Stop!