Noah said:
“When I’m a 101 I’m going to say to you [and here he dons a screechy old lady voice], ‘You young whippersnapper! You didn’t let me watch tv!’”
He’s arguing with me because he wants me to let him watch television right now at 9:30pm instead of tucking him into bed and reading him the next chapter in our book.
“Mommy,” he says in his normal voice. “Actually when I’m 101, are you going to be dead? Probably, huh?”
He doesn’t seem too broken up by this. Probably it’s just too cheery envisioning a future when I won’t be standing in the way of all of that tv.
Bwahaha! My Noah still can’t cope with the idea of me dying, ever, but then it’s 9:37 and he’s watching a DVD