My boy Connor is endlessly romantic. He snuggles, compliments, kisses and hugs. I tell Nate often that Connor’s going to make someone a great husband one day.

The other day, I was washing dishes. Connor was playing with a small Superman action figure. He decided that he’d be the bad guy and Superman would be the good guy (this time.) They were “fighting” and apparently Superman punched Connor, because Connor died.

I know because Connor told me he was dead while laying in the middle of the kitchen floor with one eye open. Makes sense, you see?

“Mom, I died. You have to come and save me,” he said.

My hands were wet and I was scrubbing a pot, so I figured Evan would be the next best thing. Besides, she was climbing on stuff playing nearby. “Evan, Connor died. Go kiss him back to life.”

Evan is eager to help these days, so she toddled over to him. Just as she bent down to smooch him, Connor grabs a orange toy gun off the floor and points it at her and says, “Don’t kiss my mouth, kiss my shirt!”

She obliged, he sprang back to life and they both continued on their merry ways.

I, however, kept chuckling to myself as I washed the dishes…. “Don’t kiss my mouth, kiss my shirt!”

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 25th, 2009 at 10:55 pm and is filed under Connor, Evan. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.