Recently we were seated at the table together, and my son was going on about colors and tigers and getting frustrated because no one was listening. So I zoned Mom Radar in on what he was saying: He was trying to get Er-bear to tell him what color her (imaginary) tiger is because his is blue with black stripes. Not black with blue stripes. Blue. Black stripes. Very important. To sis? Not so much.
I sensed an angry outburst with lots of tears and redness, so noticing the shirt he had on, I quickly attempted to diffuse the situation. And straight-faced asked him, "Is your shirt light blue with dark blue stripes, dark blue with light blue stripes, or white with dark blue and light blue stripes?" Pointing to each color as I spoke.
I don't think he realized what shirt he was wearing, then he just looked at me with bewilderment. Like that's not at all what he meant. But it ended with laughter, and that's the important thing.
I alway's wonder the same when I see a stripped shirt.
ReplyDelete