An except from our dinner conversation tonight:
Duncan: I’ve got a job to do!
Daddy: What’s your job, buddy?
Duncan: My job is to cut paper.
Mummy: Oh, is Berry’s job to color on paper?
(This seems about right to me. After all, isn’t what each of us in the family does somehow related to paper?)
Mummy: Then it’s my job to write on paper. What’s Daddy’s job?
(Kevin says something totally unrelated to paper here — like it being Daddy’s job to water plants or eat bacon)
Mummy: I think it’s Daddy’s job to read paper! (I.e. the newspaper, textbooks for school, etc.)
Duncan: Yes. Now we can all like our jobs.
Then he asked me how my cut finger was healing and if it still hurt me. What a great kid. Especially compared to the meltdown monster we dealt with trying to leave a fun activity before lunch today. How does he go from one extreme to another so readily? And how did he know that one of his friends from school would be there, too?