Valentines with my boy.
I was making Joe a valentine. Suddenly I heard a gasp of disapproval on my left. "What's wrong, Joe"? I asked.
"Mom, are you making a flower?"
"Yes. Is that bad?"
"I don't like flowers."
"Oh. What do you like?"
"Boy stuff."
"Hmm, well sometimes boys can like flowers if they are from their mom."
Joe considers this. I continue, "I can cut it out if you don't like it."
Joe concedes, "You can leave it, I just won't look at it."
I proceed to paint a heart. Joe asks, "Are you painting a heart?" When I answer in the affirmative Joe seems relieved, "Good. A heart is the only thing I like."
"Mom, are you making a flower?"
"Yes. Is that bad?"
"I don't like flowers."
"Oh. What do you like?"
"Boy stuff."
"Hmm, well sometimes boys can like flowers if they are from their mom."
Joe considers this. I continue, "I can cut it out if you don't like it."
Joe concedes, "You can leave it, I just won't look at it."
I proceed to paint a heart. Joe asks, "Are you painting a heart?" When I answer in the affirmative Joe seems relieved, "Good. A heart is the only thing I like."
***BLOG ADDITION***
After I wrote this blog, I went back to the Valentine and painted a heart over the top of the offending flower. To this Joe let out a sigh of rapturous delight, "Are you painting a heart?"
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