The scene: young mother (okay, young-ish) sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in her pajamas, with toddler scampering merrily about.
I was reading the paper and slurping up the remains of a bowl of Special K in the kitchen this morning, while William was running from one end of the house to the other, trying to decide what to do with himself. He finally brought me a couple of books to read. I read "Madeline" and "Corduroy" to him, sitting there at the table, enjoying the familiar words and the weight of my toddler on my lap. When I finished, he hopped down and ran off.
But before he disappeared from my line of sight, he turned around.
"I be right back," he said confidently. "I'm going in there. I be back, five minutes. I be right back."
And off he dashed.
I'm wondering, wow, how many times have I said some variation of those words to him?