As we drove along in the car today; Will & I chatting in the front and Sister playing with her horses in the back, Brother sat in his car seat deep in thought. Then, at a pause in the conversation, Brother broke from his reverie to issue an indignant exclamation.
“HEY! Wait a minute! Pickles don’t talk!”
-No, pickles don’t talk.
“And… and… tomatoes don’t talk either!”
Oh, the disappointments of childhood, they are great.
Oh! This makes me think of a story my mom has told me. Growing up, she always wanted to be a dog. When someone would ask, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” She said a dog, fully believing that she could grow up to be whatever she wanted, including a dog. It broke her heart when she finally learned that she could not become a dog. It devastated her.
Poor Brother, but thank goodness for imagination and the idea of talking pickles and tomatoes.
I don’t know where Brother got this idea. ALL of my vegetables talk to me…or is that the voices in my head?