We went to dinner with some friends on Monday night to meet
their new baby boy, Sawyer. (Isn’t that the most adorable name? I love it. AND,
the baby slept through the entire meal – TWO HOURS! I can only hope that Baby Dragon sleeps like that
because Q sure didn’t!)
Anyhoot, as usual, Quinn made a new friend. The girl at the
next table was very excited at the prospect of having a playmate, except she learned
a valuable lesson about the fragility of the male ego.
She made the mistake of calling Quinn a “little boy.”
I didn’t hear it, but I assume she said something totally
innocent, like, “Hi, Little Boy” or “Want to play, Little Boy?” or “Let’s be
best friends forever and ever, Little Boy.”
Well, this did not go over well with Q. After several weeks
of telling him what a big boy he is now that he sleeps in a Big Boy Bedroom and
in a Big Boy Bed, being downgraded back to “Little Boy” was more than he could
bear. His wails began immediately, and big alligator tears streamed down his
cheeks.
It would’ve been heartbreaking if it weren’t so funny.
We reassured Quinn that the girl just misspoke and that she
meant to say “Big Boy.” Then she brought over some toys to share with him, they
hugged it out, and Quinn got over it… for the moment.
Quinn has mentioned the incident repeatedly over the last
two days, looking for further validation that he is, in fact, a big boy. “That
little girl called me a little boy, Mommy,” he says, and I reinforce that she
meant to say “big boy.” “Yeah, I’m a big boy,” Q agrees. “I sleep in a big boy
room now.”
The irony is that Quinn refers to the girl as “that little
girl,” and she’s older than he is.
*Humpf*
MEN!!
