Cook the Baby

Since we have a new baby around the house, everything to Hurricane is a “baby” or belongs to the baby. Babies’ food, babies blanket, his baby, mom’s baby, dad’s baby, baby chicken, etc.  And if something is small, it is also a “baby”.

Here’s an example:
Now that Spring is in the air, our chickens have been laying eggs again.  The other day, we gathered the eggs, and we teased when we saw that one of the four eggs was significantly smaller than the rest, that a Robin came in and laid an egg with the chickens. It was seriously so small!

I fried that baby egg up for Hurricane’s breakfast yesterday.  He loved it, and it was the perfect size for him to eat.  So today when I went to make eggs for breakfast he wanted the “baby” egg again.  Nope, no more baby eggs.  So he called the other eggs “baby”.

H:  “me, egg, ninner” (all meals are “dinner” to him)
Me:  “yep, I will make you an egg for breakfast”
H:  “baby” (showing me the egg he was holding so proudly)
Me:   “Yep, here, hand me the baby egg”
H:  “No. mine. Baby.”
Me:  Here, hand me the baby, so I can cook the baby.

BOOM! I DID just say that.  Whoops! Mom Bomb!!  I chuckled, and fried up another “baby” for myself.



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