Four

Four year olds talk. A lot. I'm really trying to treasure this stage because I fully know that there will come a time when Kaleb won't feel like talking to me. But by the end of the day, I am so weary from conversations that go like this...

k: What does pink mean?
me: It's a color. You know that, silly.
k: Why is it a color?
me: I'm not sure. It just is.
k: What does color mean?
me (trying to provide an intellegent answer): Colors are made when light reflects off of things. Everything has a different color because light bounces off of it.
k (paying no attention to my answer): What is light?
me: It's the opposite of dark.
k: Why?
me: I don't know, kiddo.
k: What does "I don't know" mean?

All. Day. Long.


But...then I hear this sweet little voice behind me as I'm heading down the stairs in my skirt and flip flops...
"Mommy, you look just like Cinderella."

Awww. Keep talking, little guy.