space chimps

Sometimes my maternal instinct allows me to rent movies that my better self frowns at, and then I invite family over, as to ruin them all in one big swoop.

Not that they seemed to mind, plied with macaroni and cheese, and blankies and special stuffed animals.

The littlest chimp came wandering up the stairs, near the end of the movie, while I was adjusting my DVR to record the additional 8 minutes of House, proclaiming in his thick 3 year-old accent that he didn't 'yike dat moky movie' - code for 'when is my Mom coming back to get me'.

So we burrowed in my bed and giggled while he told me things about his house and his bed and he explained to me that my lack of 'weenus' means I am a girl.

He covered the color of his eyes and the fact that Uncle Gweg is the only one with bwue eyes, and that my iron isn't a boy.

(There was a distinct penis theme emerging; imagine that.)

And out of the blue, he looked up - searching for the right words - and adamantly assured me that he has 'a neck. I rweally do'.

I love the random words he shares, the things that cross his mind.

I spent the next 10 minutes chasing him around, my head hunched in the no-neck posture while he squealed, enduring smooches and begging for more until the doorbell rang and he rushed to greet his Mommy.

I may have been neck-less, but Caden, rest assured, you'll always have Aunt Sissy's heart.