Parent-speak

After three-months of living with small children, I understand kids perfectly well (dinosaurs have nine teeth no matter what I say; the letter P can be called any other letter of the alphabet depending on our mood; it is always a good time to sit down on the floor and roll a ball back and forth). It's parents who can be difficult to follow sometimes. Here's a conversation I had this weekend when our friends Meg and John, parents of Lily (2-years) and Stella (2-months), came to town:

Me (to Lily who had spent the previous five minutes looking for cracks in the wooden floor at her father's suggestion): Ooooh, Lily, let's go look out the window and see what we can see!

Lily: Okay! Let's find a school bus!

Me: Hmmm, there aren't many school buses at night. How about something else that's yellow... taxis!

John: Oh, really great idea, Rebo.

Me (brightly): I know...(then picking up on excessive amount of sarcasm) wait... what?

John: Taking a two-year-old to the window??

Me: But it's closed. And it's locked. And I'm holding her.

John: Still.

Me (narrowing my eyes, considering whether to point out that he and his wife decided to drive their small children to New York post-Hurricane Sandy and pre-walloping nor'easter in the middle of a gas shortage.... considering, considering, considering. Being the bigger person. Temporarily.): Fine. Lily, let's go back to looking at the floor.