Conversations

In the car, we drive by a small war memorial in our city just about anytime we go anywhere. There is a plaque, many pairs of metal boot sculptures lining the pavement, a burning torch, and a small parking area. We talk about it from time to time and this weekend as we were driving by, the following conversation happened.

William: mom, dad?
Dad: yes William?
William: sometimes I feel sad. I feel sad for all those people over there who lost their boots in Missouri. I hope they find their boots soon.
Mom: (laughing) (John and I cannot look at each other without bursting out laughing)

....................

Today at lunch:

William: but what did she look like? (Grandma Heidt)
John: oh... Well (distracted by helping Amelia with her lunch)
William: what color was her hair?
John: it was shiny and dark brown. Sometimes it looked black.
William: what color were her eyes?
John: gray. Sometimes they were blue, but most of the time they were gray.
William: what color was her skin?
John: white.
William: what?
John: her skin was the same color as ours William. Whatever you want to call it.
William: my skin is peachy colored. I'm peach. Was grandma peachy too?*




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