Schroeder came up the stairs last week crying because his brother hurt him in some way. I told him he should go tell Julian to apologize. Schroeder replied in a pathetic little voice, "but I want to apologize you."
We are at the dinner table and D'arcy is telling us about Abraham Lincoln.. She says, "Mom, I know where he was shot."
"In the back of the head."
Yikes, wasn't expecting that.
The conversation turns to Martin Luther King Jr. D'arcy and Julian ask me if I know where he was shot. I say at a hotel, but they want to know what part of his body. I think in his chest by his heart.
Julian says "No, he wouldn't have died from a shot to the heart. You only die if you get shot in the head, neck, lung, or spine." What? It's a good thing we don't own a gun.
I took D'arcy to Texas with on Super Bowl weekend. We added up that she has flown about 15 round trips, but it has been awhile. She acted like such an adult, but her sweet age came through in all the questions she peppered our conversation with.
What happens to all the stuff we go in the bathroom?
What happens to all the trash we throw away?
Why do we go up in the air?
Will the oxygen masks drop? (After we hit a bit of turbulence).
Can I go to the bathroom?
Can I go to the bathroom?...
She also called take-off "blast-off" which I thought was brilliant.