Planning for the Future

“Mom?”

“Hmm?” I’m driving the van back from Tyler where we went to the Brookshire’s World of Wildlife Museum and Country Store. Everyone in the van is either asleep or pretty darned near after the big afternoon we had of picnicking, playing on the vintage fire engine, and looking at the more than 400 stuffed (i.e., dead, not a toy) animals.

“When I grow up to be a Daddy…?” This is how Harrison phrases being an adult—being a Daddy.

“Mmm-hmm…?”

“And Rosie grows up to be a Mommy…?” Yep. He’s still planning on getting married to Rosie. (As a side note, he’s decreed that it’s ok for Laura to marry his penpal John or maybe his friend Jonathan from school, but definitely not his on-again-off-again-friend from school, Ben when she gets older. She does not get to pick.)

“Mmm-hmm…?”

“Will she have a baby in her tummy?”

Oh God. We’re going to have that talk right now.

With trepidation: “Maybe…..”

“When Rosie gets her baby out, I’m going to name her Shafofo.”

Not sure if I should try to make him understand how Rosie’s baby got in there in the first place or why I refuse to have a grandchild named Shafofo. Decide to play it safe.

“Is Shafofo her first name or her middle name?”

“That’s her middle name. Her first name is going to be Fofo.”

Fofo Shafofo.

I once wanted to name my first born son Xerxes. I guess I have no room to talk.