You Are A Bomber

You Are A Bomber

H, “you are a bomber.”

At least that is what you called me this morning.

It’s a term that you have started using more frequently the last few weeks.

I am not sure exactly what it means.

But you typically call us, or others, this when we do something you don’t like.

Not mad so much as playfully disagreeing.

From context clues, I think it translates approximately as “Jerk,” said with a smile.

But that is just a guess.

I will ask you tonight and report back here on the precise definition.

A bomber is:

“A person that forgets things.”

Ha, I love it.

Stop growing up so fast.

Please?

I love you.

-Dad

Toes Painted Pink

Toes Painted Like A Boss

K, you got your toes painted this last week for the first time.

We were packing for Ruidoso and mom was on the floor painting her toes.

You saw her but she told you to stay back.

She should have known you were not about to give up that easy.

You kept on and on until she relented and painted your big toe.

I laughed and left Y’all to it.

Again. Mom should have known…

When I came back a few minutes later you had all 10 of your toenails painted pink.

You were as proud as a teenager showing off a new car.

A week later, you are still taking off your shoes to show your toenails to strangers.

You will say:

“Toenails! Toenails! Pink!”

I love you.

-Dad

Dally The Hero

Dally, You Are The Hero Today

K, you have recently been calling me “Dally.”

You are K.
But I often call you Kenny.

I am Daddy.
And you have taken to calling me Dally.

We have endearing little nicknames for each other.

It makes sense.

I mean, I don’t think we could be much cuter.

We are simply fantastic.

And then, you squawked it again the other day while you were getting a diaper change.

Mom caught it, and of course, pointed it out.

So now I don’t even know for sure.

You might just be saying “Jelly.”

You are either being endearing, or just love referring to your shoes – your Jellies.

Ha!

I love you.

-Dad