This morning in the car, Babess had one of Fainjin’s toys, and he was whining for it. Pearl – sitting between them – sighed and said “Fainjin, I don’t know why you always have to make such a big fuss.”
Fainjin paused in his whining, and said, “Noooo. Wittle.”
Pearl said, “You’re making a big fuss!”
“No. Wittle fuss!”
“Big!”
“Wittle!”
“Big!”
“Wittle!”
etc, etc, for a while. Then Fainjin said, with deliberation and great dignity, “Pearl. I am not making a big fuss. I am making a wittle fuss!”
I was stifling hysterics in the front seat, and reflecting ruefully on the angst a short while ago when we thought he might be speech-delayed… irony comes up to bite me yet again.
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Happy Birthday, Pearl. You’ve changed me in ways you cannot imagine.
