Tea Party

It must be mentioned. . .I have not blogged in FOREVER. Sorry for that. Really, I am. I'll try to be better. Please believe me. I promise (cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle. . .well, you get the point).



Today, I asked Beckett where something was. The "something" that seemed so critical at the time has inexplicably escaped my mind at the moment. But, trust me, it was something of significant importance (And, remember, I'm trustworthy. I just you made that promise above, afterall.)

Anyways, Beckett told me it was on the table. "Which table?" I asked. "The table in the living room," he answered. "Okay, but which table in the living room? We have four." (Yeah, our living room is SO huge it's sheer vastness prevents me from determining which table this excruciatingly crucial 'something' is sitting on. Really, it's that I'm trying to teach Beckett to be more specific about things and what-not. Teach by example. That's my mantra.) "Mama, it's on the tea table," he declares. "The tea table? What's a tea table?" "Ugh!" He's fed up with me now. "The round table on the rug in the living room!" I know he's thinking, 'man, is my mom dense!' "Do you mean the coffee table?" I ask. "Why would it be a coffee table?" Beckett questions. "There's a teapot on it." Touche