Owen decided he wanted to get me something shiny and beautiful for my birthday. His take on "shiny and beautiful" was a toy airplane. Ryan steered him instead toward a large box of chocolates, explaining reasonably that Mama doesn't really play with toys.
All seemed well until bedtime, when he fell apart, sobbing, telling me he was so sorry he didn't get me a toy for my birthday.
I assured him it was okay, that airplanes were wonderful, but that the best birthday present of all was having him for my kid. He loved that so much he fell asleep smiling.
Some days I have absolutely no idea what goes on inside his head, but it seems like a wild ride.
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