The meaning of life

After church this morning, Brady told me "I love my life!" I told him that was great, and that I, too, loved mine.  He said, "Where's your life?" Upon further probing, I realized he had no idea what "life" meant and so I found myself --literally-- trying to explain life to a 3-year-old. After about 30 seconds of explanation, Brady asked me if I would sing a song about tucking in your shirt. So yeah, it sounds like he grasped the concept and moved on pretty quickly.  I really couldn't make this stuff up.

Its not the first time I've had to answer tough questions.  We saw Santa yesterday at the mall.  Not the main one, but University Mall.  For all you non-locals, its an obscure mall with a random assortment of discount stores (so sad to see Roses go), high end jewelers (where Eric purchased my wedding ring), boutiques, Planet Fitness (?), a kids museum, and of course our favorite, Chic-Fil-A.  We were stopping by to pick up something I had gotten framed without realizing that Santa was stopping by as well.  I don't usually make a point to see mall Santas, but after being informed that Chic-Fil-A was serving free breakfast for kids until 10 am (we walked in at 9:58), we at breakfast #2 of the day and circled back to see St. Nick.  Brady was excited to see Santa and told Santa thatt (direct quote), "I've read your book." If only we had brought that book for Santa to sign.  The boys got a picture with Santa and daddy illegally snapped a picture.  The professional ones were very cute, but I can't stomach paying $18 for two prints.  Then I'd feel pressure to actually do something worthwhile with them, and I just don't need that kind of pressure during the holidays. 

  

 

On the way home, Brady asked us if there was only one Santa. About the time I was answering "yes," Eric told him that Santa had helpers.  We really need to get our story straight. And why is he asking us these difficult questions already?  I told him to ask his buddy Micah if he ever has any more tough questions. I figured whatever an 8-year-old believes would satisfy Brady's curiousity.  Good sage parenting advice, yes?

 

 

 

Basketball is in full swing, which means lots of games.  Brady is always prepared.  Here is him stretching.

 

Jackson refused to sit with me at the end of the Iowa/UNC game and was only content sitting into the middle of the aisle, or with someone who would feed him more food.  So much for thinking that since it was an hour past his bedtime, he'd be happy to sit quietly and snuggle with me.

 



 

Brady and Micah got a picture with Dick Vitale.  Not because they (or I) cared to have it, but because he insisted so he could tweet it out to his 700,000 followers.  Which he never did.  Diaper dandies!

 

 

  

And what is a game without a press conference after.  The question for Brady: "Who is your girlfriend?" His answer: "Micah!"

 

 

Micah's reaction says it all.