Overheard

Sometimes we accidentally on purpose don’t turn on the baby monitor, but other times we really do just forget to turn it on. One night last week such a thing occurred, and when we realized our mistake we heard the following exchange (the kids were supposed to be sleeping and they do not share a room):

The Boy: *The Girl’s name* *The Girl’s name* look at this picture
The Girl: A baby
The Boy: It’s me!
The Boy: That is me as a baby, look Mommy is holding me
The Girl: My mommy!
The Boy: No, she is both of our Mommy
The Boy: This is Arizona Grandma holding me when I was a baby, and Arizona Grandpa
The Girl: Where’s me?
The Boy: Look, I’m growing up in this picture
The Girl: but where’s me?
The Boy: Daddy is holding me when I was a baby
The Girl: Where’s me?

DH and I have a little discussion and decide that The Boy is showing The Girl the photo album my Mom (Arizona Grandma) gave The Boy for Christmas a few years back. It is filled with pictures of The Boy as a baby, and as a one-year-old, pictures with his Arizona Grandparents and pictures of DH and me. We decide we need to break up this little interlude before The Girl realizes that we have very few pictures of her in albums.

I arrive upstairs and as The Boy hears me walking up the stairs he quickly shuffles back into his own room. I was just helping *The Girl’s name*, he tells me. Helping her do what, I question? I was just helping her. Okay. The scene in The Girl’s room is comical; all of the toys from her storage bins are either in her crib or on the floor just outside of her crib. Presumably The Boy had been helping her gather all of her toys as she directed him from inside her crib. We all giggle a little, clean up, and bed time is enforced. While we certainly don’t want to encourage these little events, I still get a smile on my face when I think about it. Sometimes I could just eat them up. They are so sweet when they aren’t whining or torturing each other.