I did something stupid, or, rather, said something stupid. Quincy and I saw a baby on TV and I said,"You know, you used to cry a lot like that baby." He asked me why. I said something about babies coming out of mommy's tummies because that's where they come from and not being able to talk. All he asked me was "why can't babies talk?" I explained that they are tiny and have lots of stuff to learn--like how to sleep, how to look around, how to roll over, what the world is like, how to eat their dinner (this was a conversation after a tantrum about not wanting what I fixed for dinner). He just looked at me and asked me something about Thomas. I was shocked there were no more questions. Quincy is the king of questions. Wow. I'm sure there will be questions eventually.
Speaking of little boys not eating their dinner (he did), I told him the story about my dad. My grandmother had a set menu every week so that she bought exactly the same things at the grocery store I guess. It never varied. Wednesdays (if I recall) were liver and onions night. My dad never liked that night. One night, he put his little foot down and refused to eat. My grandmother told him that he had to sit at the table until he ate his dinner. He refused and stayed at the table. Legend has it that he sat there until after midnight and she finally let him go to bed. From that point on, Daddy did not eat on Wednesday nights because she would never make an alternative for him and he would never eat liver and onions. I told the story to Quincy and he said, "Well, I'm sure Granddaddy would like some of my chicken. I would give him some of my chicken." He's a good little sharer sometimes!
My grandmother really stuck to her menu and my dad is stubborn. I probably would have made him a peanut-butter sandwich at least or let him make his own. What about you?