Little E’s new phrase this weekend was “THAT’S what I’M talking about!” Driving home from school Friday, going to the store yesterday… everything was “THAT’S what I’M talking about!” On Sunday, driving to the store, he said it three times in a row about three different things, and then he paused.
“Dad! I’m talking about A LOT OF STUFF!”
I had no response other than “Well, THAT’S what I’M talking about!”
We then proceeded to try to run groceries out to the car in a freakin’ monsoon downpour that proceeded to turn into a hailstorm right on top of us. Even though we couldn’t see two feet in front of us, we raced to the car, which I unlocked by remote and pretty much shoved him into before he took any more troposherically-launched ice pellets to the head. (Speaking as someone who’s been hit by goofball-sized hail before, I can attest to the fact that it hurts.)
After loading the (already soaked) groceries into the car, and still putting the cart in the corral despite the downpour, I slogged my soaked-to-the-bone ass into the driver’s seat, where I landed with a big wet splat. I guess I wasn’t aware of how scary it had been for the little guy.
“THAT’S what I’M talkin’ about!” I said.
“Dad, that’s not what I was talking about,” he said in a small voice. Poor little guy. The whole “that’s what I’m talking about” gag died then and there.
The good news is that I think I’ve finally dried out.
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