Before we had them, Darin opined that our kids’ main mode of communication would be “banter.” And lo:
Earlier this week, I left the kids with Darin so I could go to Playwriting class. I had left some stuff at home for him to make dinner, but rather than do that he took them out to dinner at a local restaurant. The next day, I asked Sophia how Daddy liked dinner.
“Oh, he had a blast,” she said. “By the way? That was sarcasm.”
Just like that.
(Apparently both kids acted up and were cranky and out of control rather than, you know, eating dinner. There is a reason that we don’t go out to dinner if we can’t be at a restaurant by 5:30.)
I am afeared.
Same here. When we go out with The Young One it’s got to be five-ish. Kind of like Seinfeld’s early-bird specialist Florida family members, but younger and not that desperately funny.