Lauren has been trying to understand lately how birthdays work. She frequently asks me how old she was when Joshua and Ethan were born, not grasping the concept that she hadn't been born yet. (As a fairly self-centered individual, I can relate to her bewilderment over the idea that a world without her is even possible.)
So, the other night as I was putting her to bed, she reminded me that she would be 4 on her birthday. Here's the conversation that ensued:
Me: Yes, when it's your birthday, you'll be 4.
Lauren: Then, how old will I be when it's my second birthday?
Me: You turned 2 on your second birthday. That was a long time ago.
Lauren: How old will I be when it's my third birthday?
Me: You already had your third birthday; that's when you turned three. And then you'll turn 4 and 5 and 6.
Lauren: Then 7, 8, 9 . . . and . . . and, mommy, what will my last one be?
Me: Well, we don't know what our last birthday will be. It depends on how old you live to be. I hope your last one will be really old, like maybe 100.
Lauren: Or, how about 85? I think it will be 85.
I'll take that.
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1 comment:
HA HA! This was too cute!
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