Brinley: “Dad, how would we live without hands? Would we grab stuff with our mouths?”
Brinley on the changing seasons: “Fall is coming in a week of a week of a week of a week of a half.”
After eating some cake to celebrate my birthday, we move outside to put Brin in the swing. In a few minutes she springs a question on me.
“Dad, what did you wish for?”
“Well”, I say, hesitating, “if I tell you it might not come true.”
“It’s ok, Dad. I’ll make it come true.” she says, sweetly.
After a pause I tell her, “My wish was to have many, many more birthdays with my wonderful family.”
Brinley closes her eyes for a bit.
With a smile she opens her eyes and says, “There, now it’s come true.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
I am beginning to get misty-eyed when she follows up with, “But you might die pretty soon because you’re getting really, really old.”
In speaking about the coronavirus, Brin called it “perilous”. Whose kid is this?!
Brin: “My mouth is a good mouther.”
“Dad!” Brinley yells as she runs full-tilt into the room I’m in. “We’ve got a big, no-good problem.”
She stares hard at me, pausing for dramatic effect to let the news sink in.
“We’re out of cookie cereal.”
Sarah and I are leaving to run an errand while the kids are with a babysitter. As we’re pulling away, Brin yells, “See you soon, you two!”
Brin is trying to move a small shelf in an attempt to rearrange her room. When it too proves too much of a challenge, she says in exasperation, “This shelf is rubbish!”
Brinley leans in to give me a kiss and ends up sneezing open-mouthed on the bridge of my nose.
“That was a achoo-kiss!“
Micah, Brin, and I are out on an evening drive when Brin notices that we’ve started to turn toward home.
“Aww…” she laments. “I didn’t want to go home yet.”
“Tell ya what,” I concede. “How about we take the long way home instead?”
“But dad! I want to take the fast way farther.”