I've said this before, but the way that my oldest son's little mind works both fascinates me and cracks me up. The other night at dinner, the kids were waaaaay hyper, anticipating our first trip of the season to Jimmie Cone, our famous local soft serve joint. So Matthew and Meg were chattering back and forth, getting louder and sillier with each exchange. I couldn't tell you exactly what they were going on about, but I guess it had something to do with ice cream. Finally Meg hollered, "And I'm going to Jimmie Cone!" "No you're not," Matthew countered. "You're going to Jimmie Sours!" Dave and I both arched one eye brow and looked at each other like, Where is he going with this? "You're going to Jimmie Sours!" the boy continued. "Dat's where dey have wemonade!"
This picture is from one day last week, when Matthew suddenly and inexplicably developed a desire for a mustache. Yes, a mustache. I told him we could make him one, so we did, and he wore it pretty much all day and part of the next. What a goob.