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liralenThis morning, Jet was up at 5:45 am. Ugh. I told him he could play, quietly, with his toys in his room, and I heard him bumping and thumping about for a while. Then he came to me (I was lying on his bed, trying to sleep), "Mama. I want my mixer truck, tow truck, and car." Those were the exact trucks that had been in Jet's diaper bag, last night, for him to play with at the restaurant.
"They're downstairs."
"Okay. I go downstairs."
I was so tired, I just let him go downstairs on his own, and was content to drowse while he was quiet. Then I suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a door closing.
I went downstairs. The door to the garage was closed and is usually open. Jet was standing in the middle of the livingroom floor, "Where my trucks?"
"In your diaper bag," I said. "You look."
His eyes got big. He then said, indignantly, "Trucks no in my diaper!!"
"They're downstairs."
"Okay. I go downstairs."
I was so tired, I just let him go downstairs on his own, and was content to drowse while he was quiet. Then I suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a door closing.
I went downstairs. The door to the garage was closed and is usually open. Jet was standing in the middle of the livingroom floor, "Where my trucks?"
"In your diaper bag," I said. "You look."
His eyes got big. He then said, indignantly, "Trucks no in my diaper!!"
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