During dinner last night, J reported a story that I simply have to relate…
She teaches at the school the boys attend, and occasionally runs across them there. Yesterday, she saw our youngest walking across the playground, followed closely by a girl who was a few inches taller than him.
Naturally, J walked over to say hi.
The little guy stopped walking when he saw her. “I’m the king!” He announced in as deep a voice as his three year old throat could produce.
Caught off guard, J answered much as I would have: “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m the king. C’mon, princess!” He walked away, with the girl trailing along after him.
It’s good to be the king, baby!
…but when do I get a turn?