Noah appears at my bedside, gleefully shouting, “Swipper feef! Swipper feef!”
In my advanced state of grogginess, I respond, “What?”
He replies, “You mean ‘pardon me’, Mama.”
Chastened, I try again. “Pardon me?”
He repeats, with same level of animation, “Swipper feef! Swipper feef!”
Now he’s laughing so hard, he’s almost falling over. “SWIPPER FEEF!” he yells, and points at his feet.
He’s wearing my slippers, which have been … mysteriously absent … for two days.
Crime report: Burnaby. Slipper thief on the rampage.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
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