The Cat is Out of the Bag

I know four-year-olds are notorious for saying whatever is on their mind. I should know. I'm on number five. Not to mention the student teaching I did in preschool and kindergarten. Let's just say, if you have a family secret, it's not secret for long.

So I was working out. I went to pick Max up from daycare. When I came in the door, one of the teachers in daycare said, "So, do you really have a baby in your tummy?"

While I was away, Max had reported on our family, "My mom has a baby in her tummy. It's coming out at Sammy's birthday. My mom is thirty-six. My dad is thirty-nine. I'm four-and-a-half. How old are you?"

He is obsessed with age. The older you are, the better. Yesterday, a lady came to read to him for an hour. He asked her how old she was. I couldn't have been more proud. When she replied, "72," Max's eyes popped out and he gave out an appreciative nod, accompanied with a "Whooa." Well, yes apparently, I could be more proud. Then he proceeded to say, "Candy Grandma is 96." And then he proceeded to tell her, "My mom has a baby in her tummy."

And just in case any of you are wondering, Max has now stopped crying about preschool. In fact, he can't wait to go. This morning he was upset because he couldn't go until after lunch. But lest you worry that preschool is his new love in life, he cleared the air tonight.

I said, "Max, is preschool your favorite place to go?" He said, "It's my favorite place to go, but you are my favorite thing in this world." Good, I was really worried, because he hasn't made himself clear on that subject. I don't know what I would do if I went to the bathroom and didn't have him shoving his fingers under the door and saying, "Mommy, I just can't get enough of you. When are you coming out? I just can't get enough of you."