Those of you who have talked to Sylvan know that he is dangerously advanced in the talking department. It’s always been a bit scary. Here’s the latest.
Every weekend, the Hideaway Bakery makes potato donuts. Emphasis on the “donut.” They’re delicious. I usually pick up a donut or a few donut holes (for the whole family, naturally) after my Saturday morning long runs.
Last weekend, we stopped by the Hideaway on our way out of town to go play in the snow. Julie was getting out of the car, and the conversation went like this:
Sylvan: “Mommy, are you getting a potato donut?”
Julie: “No, I’m just getting some donut holes.”
Sylvan: “Mommy, if they don’t have a potato donut hole, can you please get me a whole potato donut?”
A groan-inducing play on words, at age four. And it wasn’t an accident — he knew exactly what he was doing. Grandpa Tom, you’ve got competition.
Have I mentioned that I don't like having my picture taken?
Mmmmm donuts. I can’t even imagine what Anders will say at age 4.
The one thing I miss about the old blog format is that now it doesn’t say who is posting. I can usually figure it out, but it’s kind of nice to know up front.
Hey, that shouldn’t have disappeared. It’s annoying as heck when you can’t see who wrote something. It must have vanished during one of my “upgrades.”
Fixed. Because I love you. And donuts. And, most of all, Rigby.