As I was snuggling with my oldest last night we had the following conversation.
Me: Are you going to go and grow up on me?
Me: Are you gonna get hairy armpits?
G: Yep. And whiskers.
Me: And a hairy chest?
G: Everything daddy has.
G: But I'm going to shave my chest.
Me: You are? Why?
G: Just because. I'm going to do all these things when I'm married.
Me: Okay. Are you going to have babies?
G: Babies? (pause) Of course!
Me: Oh good. How many?
G: One. Two. Three. This many. (he holds up five fingers)
Me: Wow. That's a lot. What will you name them?
G: Well, (pointing to one finger) This one will be Peanut Butter Face.
Me: Oh what a great name. How about the rest?
G: One will be Ice Cream Face. And Popsicle Face. And Sandwich Face. And...Cereal Boy!
Me: How many of them are girls?
G: Well, this one is a girl. (he points to his pointer finger)
Me: Okay...was that Peanut Butter Face?
G: Yes. And the rest are all boys.
Me: Alright. (pause) So you're sure you're convinced that growing up is the right thing to do?
G: Yeah. I do.
Me: I thought so...