You know the ones. Whereby you would really rather just a big hole in the floor open up and swallow you triggered by something your child says.
I had one of those recently.
We were in the elevator and a nice young woman asks my son how old he is.
“Four, almost five,” he announces.
“Oh really!” she exclaims. “What do you want for your birthday?”
“A shotgun,” my son announces.
My face? Beet red.
Can I just declare here that he was referring to a Nerf gun he sees at Target every time we go? Placed strategically on the end of the toy aisle so even if I declare that we don’t have time to look at toys, it still is able to beckon him.
Oh, and he won’t be getting it.
My friends with boys have told me that even outlawing guns in the house only forces them to be creative. Yep, the other day my son ate his bread so that when he was done, he had a “bread gun.” (Rolling my eyes.)
I will take the creative nature for now.