On the evening of one’s birthday in this family, we have for dinner whatever the birthday boy/girl desires. It can either be homemade or at a restaurant. Yesterday was Claire’s 7th birthday, and she requested my 5-cheese Mac n’ cheese. (It’s awesome. And incredibly fattening. Oops.) So I made that for dinner last night, and as Adam was wolfing down his second silent bowl, he gratefully exclaimed,
“Claire, thank you so much for ordering this!” I thought that was pretty funny.
Then this morning at breakfast, we were talking about what the kids do at recess and Adam told us about how he and his friends play Transformers. I asked him where they got the Transformers (since they’re not supposed to bring toys to school.) A good question! He looks at me with the classic “duh-mom! look,” (watch it, kid!) and educates me,
“We ARE the transformers, Mom. I’m Optimus Prime.”
Okay, then! And why am I not the least bit surprised that this boy has finagled his way into the Optimus Prime role already. He’s turning out to be a delightful little Type A.
