For a kid who’s spending his Friday night at an impromptu wake, the illustrious Bean is really well-adjusted, and I can’t, except maybe genetically, take credit for it. 

Also, he swears me he loves me more than butter. 

For a kid who’s spending his Friday night at an impromptu wake, the illustrious Bean is really well-adjusted, and I can’t, except maybe genetically, take credit for it. 

Also, he swears me he loves me more than butter. 

Bean helps me fold clean clothes. He’s actually good at it; can neatly put away a t-shirt like he works at the Gap. 

Yesterday morning, he picks up one of my bras and asks me why I always wear them. 

This is the sort of question that tests me. Because there are so many different ways to respond, many of them fun, but it’s my job to give him an answer that is neither emotionally scarring nor bullshit. 

So I tell him that the reason I wear a bra all the time is it helps me look neat. He squinches his face up, signaling that he doesn’t understand, so I swallow my better judgement and explain that bras keep Mommy’s breasts where she wants them. 

To this he says, Oh! Because they’re LOW. 

I nod; manage not to laugh. 

But why, Mommy? Why are they so low?

I’m slightly uncomfortable, but he’s just being observant, so I tell him, Gravity.

Gravity? But why do they call it gravity?

Because somebody decided to name it gravity. Just like I named you Bean. 

Oh. I like Bean better than gravity. 

Yup. Me too, sweetie. 

* 

Is this the part where I humbly request a do-over?

Yes. Yes, I think so. 

After a couple years of being accidentally hilarious, he’s now consciously honing his routine. 

Like, this morning. 

Mommy, listen. The laundry says, “Oh no, I forgot to do the laundry!” Is that funny? 

No, sweetie. I’m sorry, but that’s not very funny. 

Yes it is! It’s funny because laundry doesn’t talk! 

This makes me laugh, which makes him laugh, and then he folds his arms over his chest and grins at me, satisfied. 

He says he feels “great”, but the rash is making me anxious. And it’s spreading. So we’re going to the doctor.

[Insert pithy, self-deprecating comment about photographing offspring’s skin condition for the internet; future therapy bills.]

Tap, tap, tap! 

I owe the internet a Bean update.

Please consider this a partial payment. 

So he can gloat. 

Today is all about rain and Pixar. 

Woo. Sah.

Just look at those hands. 

This is Bean’s meh-face. 

“Order in the court!” 

I tried to talk him out of wearing his sneakers, because it’s so hot, but he said he wanted people to see him wearing them. 

No idea where he gets that.