Four

There’s been a running joke at our house for some time now that goes something like this:

Becky: “Who wants some ice cream?” (It doesn’t have to be ice cream, it’s just the request that’s important here. Me: “I do!” Laura: “Me, too!” Me: “Me, three!”

For months, inevitably Laura’s response was to reprove me: “no, Daddy. I’m three!” And I would of course have to agree that yes, she was three years old, and then we would usually go on to remember that Daddy was, in fact, 30 (now 31!) and that Addie was only 1 (but is now 2!).

Finally, one day, Laura got the joke. It’s about counting! So now she looks to make the joke every time she can.

Laura: “I want to go outside.” Me: “Me, too!” Laura: “Me, three!”. (Uncontrollable giggling follows.)

Then came yesterday. We’re in the kitchen, getting ready to head out for a couple of errands.

Becky, at the sink: “OK, I’m ready to go.” Me, at the table: “OK, I am too.” Laura, also at the table: “Me three!” (giggling) Addie, from over in front of the fridge, raising her hand: “FOUR!”