Mind: Blown

March 6, 2011 @ 7:33 am | Filed under: These People Crack Me Up

Wonderboy, inquiring about my evening plans: What will you do at twelve o’clock?

(We’ve already covered nine, ten, and eleven o’clock.)

Me: I’ll go to bed, probably.

Rilla (gasps): Twelve o’clock at night?

Me: Yup.

Rilla, incredulous: You mean there are minutes in the night??


    Related Posts

  • Methinks You Just Did
    Methinks You Just Did
  • You Know Your Child's Growing Up in the Internet Age When...
    You Know Your Child’s Growing Up in the Internet Age When…
  • She's Done It Again
    She’s Done It Again
  • A most useful tome
    A most useful tome
  • The Five-Year-Old on Matters of Taste
    The Five-Year-Old on Matters of Taste

Comments

6 Responses | | Comments Feed

  1. Sigh. I love these things! I remember when my youngest son called the day after tomorrow “tomorrow tomorrow”. And then, when summer came, my oldest was able to wear “short sleeve pants.”

    No wonder we all hate to sleep away part of our 24 hours. All those MINUTES….

  2. I love that girl.
    But you know that.
    Me hungry!

  3. She misses you. Keeps asking when you’re coming back!

  4. I love it! What a kidism!

  5. Well that’s torn it, now she’ll want to stay up all night, just to see πŸ™‚

    (reminds me of something one of Anne-with-an-e’s children would have said).

  6. Yes, and mommies see those minutes much too often!!