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Bye Yucky

At dinner each night, we all tell the best part of our day. This is a tradition I imposed both to create dinner conversation and to make a stab at inculcating a positive attitude. (On particularly grueling days, we also get to say what the worst part was.) Some days I have to think hard about what the best part has been.

Not so yesterday. I went to the dance store with my friends because I needed new ballet shoes and my four-year-old friend needed new tights and a leotard. While her mom helped her try on leotards, her little brother tried on my tennies while I tried on ballet shoes.

Out of habit, I call him Sweet Pea. Yesterday he said, in his almost-two way, “Sweet Pea yucky.” Which made me laugh, which made him laugh.

As we all left the store to our different destinations—they went to the kid store across the street and I went to a poetry event at the UC Berkeley library—he waved goodbye to me. “Bye Yucky!” I called.

“Bye Yucky!” he called back.

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jan_can_too
jan_can_too

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