Tonight, as I was scrubbing potatoes for the spicy potato soup I'm cooking for dinner, Braden came into the kitchen. Being the sweet-hearted boy that he is, he grabbed the potatoes and, WITHOUT BEING ASKED, started peeling them for me.
To illustrate an average conversation with him and his rapidly-bouncing mind (I swear he literally vibrates with energy, even when standing still in one spot), I record our conversation now for all posterity:
B: Okay mom, tell me a song you want me to sing.
Me: Ummm... (thinking to myself - what song do I NOT want him to ruin for me?)
B: Come on! Think of something country.
B: Desperado! Why don't you come to your senses? You've been out riding fences... (Sung as if he was giving an American Idol audition until SUDDENLY, like a Blake Lewis wannabe, the song turns into a beatbox version complete with dance moves).
B: Okay, now give me a love song!
Me: Groovy Kind of Love
B: (Launches into a 5-minute monologue wherein he is Delilah of sappy-love-song radio fame and her caller who is explaining her epiphany about love. I wish I'd had a recorder, because it was completely hysterical! He ended the monologue with the caller asking for "Groovy Kind of Love" only to be told by Delilah that she doesn't know that one.
B: Give me a different love song!
Me: You're the Inspiration
B: Thank you, but what song do you want? Give me another one!
Me: (Brief pause as I roll my eyes...)
B: Joanie, please say you'll wait for me... (this is a HORRIBLE old country song by Conway Twitty that he discovered a few months back that he routinely tortures me with).
As I groaned in disgust, he wandered off to the next amusement. Life here is never dull!