"what?" I asked.
"That." He says.
"What?" I ask. "My eyes? My glasses? My eyebrows?"
"What's on your eyebrows?" he clarifies.
"What?" I ask, laughing. As far as I know, there's nothing on my eyebrows. I rack my brain. Did I smear something across my face? Eat something and be Very Messy? I cannot think of anything.
"Hair!" he says delightedly. "You have HAIR on your eyebrows."
Oh. That.
You know, some days I marvel at the fact that he can talk to his grandparents and remember that when they come here, they go to the airport in Calgary. I am impressed he can remember details of a conversation that I had with his father two nights ago. He can count as high as 40 now before he forgets what comes next.
And then there are the days when I wonder how he could not have realized that eyebrows are MADE OF HAIR.
2 comments:
LOL! :D
See, that's what's SO MUCH FUN about little kids (well, except when it's infuriating) -- how they can be simultaneously totally brilliant and totally clueless ...
And speaking of hair, I ran across a real gem in my LJ archives the other day, from about a year and a half ago -- a few days after I got the really big haircut, from very long to very short, SP said to me in great surprise, "Hey, mama! You still have that haircut!!"
That's classic!
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