Thursday proved to be a very busy day. I wore my taxi driver hat 8 times today. 8 times=8 trips to drop off/pick up and back home again. Seriously, when will these kids get their driver's licenses...? And the real crappy thing is, I don't even have a taxi driver hat. Do they sell taxi driver hats? Do they come in pink? Hmm..
On one of these trips it was just me and Oliver. Somehow we got talking about birthing babies. Ya, I know, weird. He said he didn't think anyone could really remember actually being born, like the actual birth. I said ya, I don't think so, and he made some strange "squirming and trying to be born" movement. My kids are unique. Then he asked me about his older brother's "autopsy". Say what? Autopsy? Ya Mom, you know when he wouldn't come out and they had to cut him out. Oh yes, C-Section, I said, not autopsy because that's what they do to dead people to find out how they died. And so he says don't judge me, I'm not good with words. Fair enough.