Wednesday, June 4, 2014


A few weeks ago, we were at my cousin's graduation party. Between my aunt, her sisters and all of my cousins, Charlie got more than his fair share of attention. The fawning! Seriously. And he ate it up. The asked him to sing for him. They fed him cake. They fetched him water. They laughed when he kept stealing cookies. They cheered when he climbed on the lawnmower. It was completely ridiculous, and he loved it.

On the ride home that evening, I popped in a movie for the kids. Mary Clare fell asleep about halfway in, and the movie was over by the time we neared our exit. Charlie asked for another movie, but I told him he would just have to tough it out. He harrumphed, of course, but a short while later I heard him talking quietly to himself.

"I cute," he said. He paused and then said, "I cute. I cute."

While I knew I would regret further feeding his ego, I just had to engage him.

"Charlie, what are you saying?" I asked.

"I'm saying that I cute," he responded.

"Who told you that?"

"The ladies. The ladies at the party," he said. "They told me that."

He was quiet again for awhile, and then just before we made our last turn, I heard a very soft, "I a scootie."

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