Over the last week I have been able to have Parker and Kent play together downstairs. I've even been brave enough to leave them unattended while I made beds, dusted, or cleaned bathrooms. Yesterday I pressed my luck. I left them alone while I washed the kitchen floor. I could hear them squealing and laughing so I knew that they were fine, and enjoying themselves. When I finished with the floor, and went downstairs, I was speechless. I was trying to decide what to name the tornado that had just swept through the playroom.
I looked at Parker, and he shrugged. "It's a zaster mommy!" I understood that he was trying to tell me that the room was a disaster. He was lucky, because that slight mispronunciation warmed my heart and instead of acting like a cleaning lunatic, I laughed.
Later that night after Kent went to bed, I was on the couch reading a book, Erik was with me on the laptop, and Parker was on the other couch making a tent with the pillows. Soon I began to hear Parker carrying on an entire conversation...and it wasn't with me or Erik.
"Parker, who are you talking to?"
"Oh, you have a sister? What is her name?"
Okay then. I apparently have three children now. One named Parker, one named Kent, and one named Elephant.