We were headed over to my parents house this morning and Owen wanted to bring a skunk and a bird from one of his toys in the car with him. On the way, he started a conversation between the two of them. It went like this:
Mr. Skunk in a deep voice: "Are you okay?"
Mr. Bird in a higher voice: "I'm okay."
Mr. Skunk in a deep voice: "Are you okay?"
Mr. Bird in a higher voice: "I'm okay."
Mr. Skunk in a deep voice: "Are you okay?"
Mr. Bird in a higher voice: "I'm okay."
Mr. Skunk in a deep voice: "Are you okay?"
Mr. Bird in a higher voice: "I'm okay."
Mr. Skunk in a deep voice: "Are you okay?"
Mr. Bird in a higher voice: "I'm okay."
Mr. Skunk in a deep voice: "Good, you're happy."
While very funny to listen to, it proves to the wife something I don't think she believes. You see, when Owen is going high speed down the driveway and crashes, she thinks I always tell him to be more careful and rub some dirt on it. I really do ask him if he's okay. Gotta check to make sure gravel isn't embedded in his forehead, no broken bones, etc. After he is calmed down over his brand new scraped knees that just finished healing from the last time, I try to explain center of gravity, mass vs. acceleration, and general clumsiness.
By making Mr. Skunk ask Mr. Bird if he's okay, it shows, yet again, that I am the world's greatest Dad and care about his well being first. Second, I explain the finer points of not face planting on concrete. Of course, he is a boy, so I think that he is legally required to have scraped knees and bruises at all times from ages 2 to 27.
CK
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