Doodaddy

Sometimes we get distracted. There’s no shame in that.

Boo was polishing off a few pretzels in the car seat yesterday. At a stoplight, I offered her the canteen with the question:

“Do you want a sip of pretzel?”

Beat.

“I mean, water?”

Not that big a deal, right? I wouldn’t have mentioned it except that a few minutes later she said with her bottle in hand:

“I want some water.”

Beat, as I glanced back to notice that she still had the water bottle in her hand. I was about to point that out when she took the next line:

“I mean, pretzels.”

And then she laughed like a maniac. My daughter, my sweet, loving, (and did I mention two and a half years old???) daughter just made fun of me.

Just in case I didn’t get the joke, a few minutes later she asked again:

“I want some milk!” (A momentary quiet giggle so as not to spoil the effect, and then…) “I mean PRETZELS!”

And more hysterical laughter.

That’s the story of how I became Boobaby’s first joke. I hope she doesn’t get tired of me as humorous foil — I expect that my command of the English language will be doing even more of a nosedive as brain cells slough off in the years to come.