Me: Here comes the baby ballerina!
Hank: I love these pajamas.
Molly (wearing footie pajamas complete with a pink tutu and ballet shoes)
Hank: Where is papa?
Me: He is out to dinner with friends tonight so it is just the three of us. What are you thinking for dinner? Something simple please. I am a little tired this evening.
Hank: Um… Scrambled eggs and popcorn.
Me: Done and done. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you should be a chef, buddy.
Hank: Can I have Molly? I will watch her while you make dinner.
Me: Thank you, honey.
Hank: (taking the baby) Molly MaGoo? Do you have poops? Do you need foods? Do you have pees? No? Good. You just stay here with your best brother and don’t start fussing.
(cooking pause: scrambled eggs, stove top popcorn, sliced red peppers and cucumbers and cheese)
Me: Right, kids. Dinner. Hank, bring me your sister so you can come to the table and eat.
Hank: Molly was so good.
Hank: She was good because I told her if she fussed she would be a disqualified ballerina. Ballerinas do not fuss.
Hank: She listened and had very good behavior!
Me: (still laughing, taking the baby) I bet. Our little, Molly MaGoo, a disqualified ballerina?
Hank: (whispers) I wouldn’t disqualify her for real.
Me: (cooing at the baby, winking at Hank)
Molly: (smiling and kicking)