Gideon and I spent lunch arguing over whether or not the third letter in his name is a B or a D. See, before preschool, life was all uppercase and simple. But now the lowercase box is opened reaping all kinds of confusion. I forgot how close 'b' and 'd' look. Anyhow, Gideon insisted the third letter of his name is a B and I, the educated mom, tried to show him the difference between 'b' and 'd' and sounded it out phonetically. GiD-DA-DA-DA-DA . . . like DOG, can you hear that? Common sense and logic held no sway. So we decided to let Daddy settle this later tonight.
Can't wait to do the in your face! dance.
I have an MFA. Don't fuck with me.