This morning Grayson and I were walking downstairs together. We still hold hands, despite the fact that he can quite easily bound down the stairs himself.
I said, “Are you going to play with Brooklyn today?”
G: “Umm…. well, I think I am but I don’t know, am I, Mama?”
Me: “Well, that’s up to you. Do you like to play with her?”
G: “Sometimes I do… and sometimes I don’t. It’s just complicated.”
Me: Gulp. How old are you again, kid?
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Somehow a few weeks ago, Grayson started asking for a bowl “to throw up in”. At first we thought he was serious, and then we just did it to humor him. So he started carrying a bowl with him to bed every night. Last night before bedtime, he insisted on both a bowl to throw up in, and a tissue to spit on. He has a designated “spitting” tissue and will just walk around spitting into it randomly.
I’m hoping this is a short-lived phase.
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