My Little Bear

Last night was dress up like an animal night at Kid's Club. My husband, who does not currently have a face painting business on the side, turned the boys into a tiger and a bear. (We're one kid short of an oh my.) 

He should have a face painting business on the side, am I right?

When Matthew's face was finished, he sprinted into the room where I was and shouted, "Mama! Yook! Yook at me." He was frantically pointing a finger at his face. I oohhhed and ahhhed about how great it was and took to calling him Little Bear for the rest of the night. We actually decided that if Matthew was an animal he probably would be a bear.

On our way to the church I made a small gasp. Not so loud that Troy would think we were in eminent danger of hitting a small child, but loud enough that the boys would wonder why I'd done it. "What?" they asked.

"Little Bear," I said, "Do you know what happened to Matthew?"

He got a very puzzled look on his face, pointed to himself, and quietly answered, "I right here."

"I know where you are, Little Bear, but have you seen Matthew?"

He was silent for a few moments, clearly trying to figure out what rocker I'd just fallen off of. "Did we leave him at home?" I asked again in a playful tone.

He seemed to catch on and, with a glimmer in his eye, answered softly, "I eat him."

"You ate him?" I gasped, my eyes wide. "What did he taste like?"

Without giving the question any thought at all, he replied, "He taste like chocolate." Troy, Garrett and I were in hysterical laughter by this point which just made Matthew think the whole thing was absolutely the funniest thing he'd ever experienced.

"Little Bear," I said once I'd recovered, "did you also eat Matthew's brother, Garrett?

"Yeah," he confessed. "He's in my tummy."

"Oh. Well. What did he taste like?" I was very curious about the answer. I thought that, since Matthew tasted like chocolate, Garrett might taste like peaches or vanilla or Elmer's glue.

"He taste like chips."