A few days ago I was driving around with Beckett, only half listening to his chatter. Which you can’t judge me for, because he is a talker and talks about EVERYTHING and so help me, if I listened to every single word he spoke, I would have to be committed. He once sang a song he made up about poop for 33 straight minutes. THIRTY THREE MINUTES. I mean. YOU GUYS. Of course I don’t pay attention to everything out of his mouth. It’s for my own mental protection.
So I wasn’t completely sure what we were talking about when he started asking me questions but normally I can just fly by the seat of my pants when that happens. Because let me be honest, we aren’t talking about politics or the economy here. We are typically covering such riveting topics as how a bird goes to the bathroom when flying and why clouds are sometimes different colors and if an animal would be able to break in the window of his bedroom and eat him.
But flying by the seat of my pants didn’t work out so well for me this time. Our conversation in the car when like this:
Beckett: MOM. I asked you a question. I asked what you know about Dinosaur layers.
Me: Layers? Like, layers on a cake?
Me: Honey, I don’t know anything about dinosaur layers. Are you sure that is the word you want to use? Do you know what layers are? They are like if you are stacking things, you get layers. Are you maybe talking about when you dig for dinosaurs, there are different layers of the Earth?
Becket: NO! I mean DINOSAUR LAYERS.
Me: Okay, so like, stacking dinosaurs on top of each other? Like that? You want to stack dinosaurs?
Beckett (now shrieking): MOM!! NO!!! Layers are not STACKING. I am not talking about STACKING DINOSAURS. I am talking about the secret hideouts that dinosaurs live in! DINOSAUR LAYERS!!!
Me (totally dumbfounded): Oh.
Me: OHHH. YOU MEAN LAIRS NOT LAYERS. Lairs. Dinosaur Lairs. ‘Cause, see, I was just thinking you were talking about layers.
Beckett (sigh. Like, BIG sigh): MOM.
Me: Wow, sorry. I get it now buddy. Lairs. Secret Hideouts. Got it.
Beckett: So? What do you know about dinosaur lairs?
Me: Not a thing.
Beckett (mumbles under his breath): You don’t know ANYTHING Mom.
Well crap. Y’all, he just figured me out.