“Germs are fools”
Brinley Kate Warne
Every morning Micah gets a bit antsy if he suspects that I’ll forget to grab his stick of “deodorant” so that we can both do our morning routine of applying it at the same time, his eyes following my movements to ensure that he’s got the correct technique. I won’t forget, buddy.
“Hey! How is your day going?” says Brinley, greeting the crow in the tree.
“Dad!” says Brinley. “I’m trying to get over there, but that sassy girl is in the way.”
I look down to where she’s pointing at our cat Regan, sitting there calmly.
Brinley chooses a book for bedtime.
“Let’s do the one where the bunny has Germans in her tummy.”
Brinley asking the real questions:
“Dad, why do we need undies in this land?”
Apropos of nothing, Brinley asks, “Dad, can you tell me how ducks hiccup?”
“Hey Brin, what would you like for lunch?”
“A cream cheese sandwich with pickles, stars, and dust.”
We’re unpacking the garage when Brinley asks Sarah, “Mom, can we set up some ant traps now?“
“Um, not right now, Brin.”
Brin, sadly: “That means later. Later means tomorrow. Tomorrow means next week.”
“I’m not even talking, and I’m talking zero words!” says Brin, talking.