We’re in the car, headed for some play, but we’ve left the Dad at home. Simon is not happy.
Simon, punctuating his words with wolf-like howls of anguish: “Oh boiy. Oh boiy. I weawy miss my Dad. I weawy weawy sad. Oh boiy. Oh boiy.”
Me: “Oh darling. I hear you. You’re so sad. We’re going to get Dad.”
Simon, howling: “Noooo! Noooo! I weawy weawy sad.”
Me, correcting my unfortunate word choice: “Oh, Simon. You’re really sad? I’m hurrying, baby.”
Simon, really howling now: “NOOOOOO, NOOOOO! I weawy WEAWY sad!”
I’m taking deep breaths. DEEP breaths.