The other night at dinner, Julian and I were chatting and I spilled into reminiscence, spurred on by his new high chair-turned stool that has been pushed up to the table making him look like a real grown-up boy. The dialogue went like this:
JEN: Julian, I love your stool! It reminds me of when I was a little kid and we'd go visit my grandma and grandpa. They lived in Idaho and the drive was 4 hours long and we would drive in the big blue Suburban. My mom and dad would put a mattress in the back and Ash and I would be back there and sleep on it, which unfortunately is frowned upon now, you might say. But it was so fun! We'd finally arrive, and they had the cutest little red brick house. And you'd walk in and in the kitchen on this side table were these two little stools where Ash and I would sit and I sat in a little stool JUST like yours! I LOVE your stool!
to which Julian replied, with matched enthusiasm, reaching for his straw with his mouth, "I love my milk!!"
And we sat and basked in the wonderful warmth of togetherness, just the three of us.