Mommy, I have a quest'on
Okay.
I continue to type.
Mommy . . .
I turn and look at him. He's spinning circles like a sit and spin and I wonder if he could do this on the whole floor. It's dirty and I could tie a wet towel to his behind and . . .
Mommy
And I realize I haven't heard a word he said.
Sorry, baby, what?
Is Santa Claus real?
What?
I panic. I'm not expecting this on a hot July day. Maybe a hot Mississippi December day - but July?
Is Santa Claus real?
And he's spinning and could care less what my answer will be, so . . .
from where I'm not sure of I pull from inside of myself - the truth.
And I explain earlier to him than I did to my girls about Santa Claus.
And he laughs and spins and I warn him not to tell his friends cause that's what Mommys and Daddys are for and then I think once again
about putting that wet rag on his rear.
