Ohio

A thunderstorm was rolling in right as I was putting Rowan to bed tonight, so I pulled up the blinds and he stood on his bed to watch.  After observing quietly for close to five minutes, he asked if, “Please, Mama, could he lick the window?”

“Why do you want to lick the window, Rowan?”

“Please, Mama?”

Out of pure curiosity, I gave him the go ahead to lick the window.  He crouched down, and starting at the bottom, dragged his tongue all the way to the top.  When he finished he turned around and grinned at me.

“Well, how was it?”

“Ohio.”

“Excuse me?”

 “Ohio,” he said again, with a hint of annoyance.

I think we can conclude a couple of things here:

  1. My prying into his life is already getting on his nerves.
  2. Ohio means something entirely different to him, than it does to the rest of the world.
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