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Cultured Child

As I wipe off yogurt hand-prints from my couch, it occurs to me that it may be time to institute better house rules over here. Luckily enough, Simon is showing signs of having a, shall we say, cultured, bent to him.

Part of this comes from KIP. After all, many of his teachers are Russian, the older kids there study French, and everyone gets a dose of Hebrew and Judaic studies on Friday. So it should have come as no surprise to us yesterday evening when Simon saw Matt out the door with this cheerful series:

Goodbye, Daddy!

See you, Daddy!

Adios, Daddy!

We have no idea where that “adios” came from, of course. Our best and only real guess right now is that he was trying to say “adieu” and it came out one language to the South West.

Also yesterday, a rather bleery- eyed Matt got Simon out of his crib in the morning. Typically, he is in charge of morning entertainment and clothes changing while I finish showering and then run down to cook.

Anyway, on this morning—warmer than most in recent weeks—Matt went to carry Simon downstairs in his boxers. “Quell horror! Non! Non! Non!” declared Simon.

OK.  Maybe not. but he did call out a very clear directive:

Long pants, Daddy!

If you insist, honey. If you insist.

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