"Pay"ing

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We finally got our gate fixed a few weeks ago, so Robbie is able to play outside with the cats and dog. Everyone is thrilled to be out of the confines of the condo, especially Robbie. I didn’t realize how much Robbie liked it until we were on our way home from the gym today. From the back seat, I heard a little voice say, “Pay, Mama. Pay.”

Now, a novice mother would have perhaps thought her son was offering cash for all the services she had provided – chef, chauffeur, therapist. However, I am no novice. I knew there was no way my child was at all aware of all I have done for him over the past 22 months and 3 days, much less having any concept of cash.

But, I digress… Being familiar with Robbie’s pronunciation patterns, particularly when he shouts “Pane!” whenever he sees a plane, I figured Robbie actually wanted to play. And I was right. As soon as we got home, Rob ran to the back door, throwing a haphazard wave toward his father. He got to the door, looked at me, and said, “Pay! Pease!” as he tried to open the door. He managed to let me carry him down the stairs, but, once he got to the porch, he was on his own.

He ran around the yard like a manic, racing up and down the stairs and around the table. He threw balls to the dog. He poured an entire Diet Coke into a bowl on his pretend grill and then swept it all over the place. He swept up yard debris. He rearranged chairs. And then he crashed, barely making it through dinner.

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