Something about Sunday brings out the chatty side of our kids.
It could have something to do with the fact their mom and dad ask them be reverent at church 450 times within a three hour timeframe.
But our children are still young and don’t understand big words like reverence so we revert to using phrases they understand like, “Please don’t make faces at the couple sitting behind us” and “The pulpit microphone is for giving talks NOT making fart sounds”.
The kids can barely contain their excitement once church is over, and they’re free to use their outdoor voices in the car on the drive home.
This is why we buy Ibuprofen by the case at Costco.
At lunch Luca asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. Without waiting for an answer she began listing the reasons she wants to become a baker. Here’s what I learned about becoming a baker today from my 7-year old daughter:
- Bakers are free to to bake anything they want including cakes and cookies.
- Bakers ALWAYS get to lick to the bowl with a huge spatula.
- Bakers don’t have to share the bowl with their little brother or sister.
- Bakers get to wear the cool aprons.
- Bakers only bake the good stuff. No “vegetables and stuff like that”.
- Bakers get to stay up late baking stuff.
Given what I know now about bakers I’m slightly disappointed I didn’t become one. Who knew bakers don’t have a curfew?
I asked Lincoln what he wanted to be when he grows up. He thought for a minute before looking at Luca and then back at me. I wasn’t sure if he understood the question until he gave this answer:
“When Luca bakes stuff, I will test it to make sure it tastes good. I’ll be the tester”