What Did He Just Say?

I climb into the car for church empty handed.  No purse, nothing.

Feels strange so I say,

I feel . . . blah.

What Mommy?  From the Maxster.

I feel blah.

Mommy, what is blah?

I don't know, baby . . .

I struggle for words 'cause I'm not really blah in the sense I know, but I think it doesn't matter 'cause this is just one of those conversations that come and go and make no matter.

Just . . .  just - empty handed, son.

In a few moments we all get out of the car - all of us empty handed - and walking across the parking lot he says,

I feel blah, Daddy is blah, Sisi is blah.

I laugh until I loudly hear . . .

Mommy, see that lady?  She is blah.

Proposition: Name that musical? (Come on, Janice - name that musical?!)

I'm a mother - and a very civilized one at that. 

So never ever again tell myself anything with the Maxster doesn't matter.  Be a better Mommy?  Be a walking dictionary? 

Keep my mouth shut?

Yeah, that's the one.  Keep my mouth shut.  'Cause sponge is listening - and he never keeps his shut - and I'm really tired of crouching behind cars or bushes.