Thursday, October 22, 2009
As I pull my thrice re-heated coffee out of the microwave, Bob comes running into the kitchen.
“The Germans! The Germans!”
We don’t really know any Germans. So of course, I immediately assume that Bob is having some type of past life regression experience. (I’ve lived in Southern California a long, long time.)
“What Germans, Honey?”
“The Germans! They are here!”
Maybe time travel. I didn’t see The Lake House but I know the plot.
“Where Bob? Where are the Germans?”
Bob points to his head. I knew it. He has always had those “old soul” eyes.
“The dentist said I have to brush my teeth because there are Germans in there!”
“Germs, Bob. They’re called germs.”
“I need to brush now, Mama.” Bob wanders off to the bathroom.
I guess that explanation makes sense too.
Labels: The Bob