My son Rowan likes to have conversations, usually about giant squid, Humboldt squid, sharks, lemurs, octopuses, the soul, the soles of our feet, snakes, and fish. But he’ll talk about just about anything, if you get him rolling. He’ll even talk about nothing, which is one of my favorite topics.
Me: You’re such a cutie, Rowan. How’d you get so cute?
Ro: I really don’t know.
Me: Do you think mommy had anything to do with it?
Ro: Yeah. probably.
Me: But not me?
Ro: No. You’re not cute.
Me: I’m not?
Ro: No . . . Well, maybe you’re a little bit cute.
Me: I see.
Ro: Mommy’s cute.
Me: That she is.
Ro: And Willem’s cute. (Rowan’s almost nine-month-old brother.)
Me: Yeah. Willem’s really cute.
Ro: Yeah. Willem’s really cute. And I’m really cute. And Mommy’s really cute. But you’re just a little bit cute.
Me: I got that. You know, there was a time when I was really cute, too.
(Rowan, blank stare.)
(Mommy enters.)
Ro: Mommy? Daddy’s not cute.
Mommy: Really?
Me: Wait a second. I thought you said I was a little cute.
Ro: Yeah. Daddy’s a little cute. But not as cute as you. Or me. Or Willem.
Mommy: Willem is really cute. But I think daddy’s cute. That’s why I married him.
Me: Really?
Mommy: It’s one of the reasons.
Me: It’s not really one of the reasons, Rowan.
Mommy: It wasn’t a reason, but it didn’t hurt.
Me: Mommy’s so nice.
Ro: Yeah. But you’re only a little bit cute.
Me: Yes. I think that’s been made clear.
Ro: Yeah . . . . I’m hungry.
