“Jory, why did
you get up in the middle of the night?” I asked, as we were driving home.
“I didn’t get up.
I heard a noise in the kitchen and I said, ‘I’m not going to worry about
it,’ and I laid down in my bed and went to sleep,” he responded.
I’m not going to worry about it? I’m not going to worry about it?! I had to stop myself from laughing out loud,
we sounded like his Oma, his Aunt Brenda.
Phrases coming out of his mouth that so weren’t him, so weren’t a
seven-year-old boy’s voice.
Those ears are always picking up things and now as he
gets older, he’s learning when to use them.
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