Cluck cluck cluck
Sometimes, when I am talking to my kids, I feel like I would be better off talking to chickens. Take this morning for example. Madeline and I were cleaning up her room and we found these itty-bitty, white beads all over her bed, obviously having come out of something stuffed. After searching high and low, I found the culprit: the stitching of a little princess pillow had come open and the beads were spilling out. Fortunately, there was a zipper that would conceal the hole, if only kept closed.
"Madeline, you need to keep this closed so the beads don't spill out," I told her as I zipped it up.
"It's a zzzzzipper mom!" she exclaims.
"Yes, I see that and it needs to stay closed so the beads don't fall out of the hole in the pillow," I repeat.
"Will they come out and sting us?" she says, apparently not quite getting it.
"Not bees Madeline, beads," I articulate.
"Oh, can we eat the beans?" she asks.
"Bea-duh Madeline, beads, not beans," I say.
"Oh, are we going to make a necklace?" she asks enthusiastically.
Cluck, cluck, cluck...