Brae-isms

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A recent survey showed that, according to the people who took the survey, the “cutest” age of a child is 4.5 years. Brae is almost that old, and he certainly does not disappoint. So, with that, here is the next installment of “Brae-isms.”

1. We are in the process of painting our house. This last weekend, we got some sample paints (a mix of greens/browns), and Brae and I found an inconspicuous corner in the back of the house to try some of the samples. As we painted swaths on the house, I numbered each swath. After sample #3, I stepped back and remarked, “Brae, I’m not sure I like #3. It kind of looks like poop.” Brae grinned. We kept painting. After we had painted all 8 sample colors, we stood back again to marvel at our collage. I sighed, and said, “Brae, you know, I actually think now I like #3. What do you think?” Brae looked up at me, startled. “Mommy?! You like poop?”

***

2. One morning over breakfast, the following conversation ensued (in Spanish):

Yo: “Brae. Aqui esta algunos Cheerios para desayuno. Mira, un Cheerio, y un otro Cheerio. Uno y uno es dos, no?”

Brae: “No, mama! Uno y uno es once!”

(English translation: I asked Brae if one Cheerio and one Cheerio makes two Cheerios. He informed me that one and one makes eleven, not two. Clearly, I’m the one in need of a math lesson).

***

3. One Sunday, on our way home from church, the following conversation ensued in the car:

Brae: “Mommy, I want to go to heaven and see Jesus.”

Me: “Okay. But not right now.”

Brae: “But, Mommy! I want to!”

Me: “Brae, did you know you don’t need to go to heaven to visit Jesus? Did you know He’s all around? He lives in your heart and you can actually talk to him whenever you want.”

(Silence).

(More silence. I look in my rear-view mirror to see Brae in the back seat.)

Brae: (Looking down at his heart). “Jesus? …. Where’s my house?”

***

4. This last weekend, I was driving with the kids to a playdate. We stopped at a light. There was a homeless man on the side of the road, holding a cardboard sign. He was asking for money. I rolled down my window and gave him some cash. We then drove away. As we turned the corner, Brae said, “Mommy! I want to go home and get my piggy bank so I can come back and give him all of my money.”

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