Happy Labor Day. Mom, I'm sorry that 28 years ago you were actually in labor. Geez. That had to hurt. Especially since it was all 23 hours long and stuff. Or something like that. I don't actually remember. I was really little. Like, you know, negative one day. But then I came out, the next day, on September 8th. And I was a girl. Who knew that 28 years later my son would be so disappointed in that fact...
G: Mom, do you have a penis?
G: Why not?
Me: Because I'm a girl.
G: How do we make you into a boy?
Me: We don't.
Me: Because God made me a girl.
G: I want you to be a boy.
Me: Well, if I was boy, I wouldn't be mommy.
G: We could bring another girl in here to be mommy.
Me: Oh. Am I that easily replaceable?
G: (crawling up next to me on the couch and grabbing a fistful of my hair) First we have to get rid of all this girly hair.
Me: Garrett, stop, don't mess up my hair. I don't like that.
G: But it's the only way to make you a boy.
I would leave you with only that little gem of a conversation but you might be left wanting. So, here's a question. Hey, Mom, what would you do if Jon and I busted this out at his reception?
Or, more importantly, Heather, would you ask for an immediate annulment?