Someone Else is Living Your Parisian Dream

Max saw the feet on the footsie pajamas I’d laid out after his bath, tonight.  He hasn’t worn pajamas with feet for quite some time; mostly the two pieces for a little while now. Not for any reason, just that he’d outgrown all but this pair, which I unintentionally stole from my best friend’s son in San Francisco.

“Yamas for baby?” he inquired,? “Yamas for Yeo?” Also, He’s grown fond of running around barefooted.

“These are clean pajamas for you,” I told him.

“Yamas for Yeo,” he confirmed.

In bed, he held his feet up, examining the footsies as if he wasn’t still wearing them just  2 or 3 months ago.

“‘Yamas for baby?”  Where did my little boy -  my first born and first of so many different experiences and emotions -  grow to,  so quickly?  Time is flying … And suddenly, next week he turns 2 years old…

“Omama,” Max stated casually, pointing quickly at the White House with his little index finger. He left zero room for correction. We were reading the children’s book “Goodnight, America” and had just turned to the ” Goodnight, Capitol Hill” page which featured drawings of Capital Hill, the Washington Monument, and the White House. He never fails to surprise me with his memory of an elephant. We read the book last night, as well, and it was the first time that I’d linked Barack Obama with the White House.