As much as I would love for Cael to become a doctor or a lawyer, or any other high-paying respectable career, his behavior as of late has me anticipating his future as a bartender in a dingy dive or an employee at the paint counter of a small town hardware store.
"Mommy, what happens if I mix blue and white?"
"You get light blue."
"What happens if I mix orange and white?"
"You get light orange."
"What happens if I mix purple and white?"
"Cael, any time you mix white with a color it makes it lighter. Any time you mix black with a color, it makes it darker."
"What happens if I mix black and white?"
"You get gray."
"Light gray or dark gray?"
Sometimes, like when Cael wants to know the Pantone label for the color made by combining pink, gray and brown, I simply have to shift the conversation to other more easily understood combinations.
"Cael, do you want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"
"Oooh yes, Mommy! But what happens if I mix jelly and ice cream?"
"Well, I think that would probably taste pretty good. They are both sweet treats."
"What happens if I mix jelly and chicken?"
"I don't think you'd like that very much."
"What happens if I mix pizza and watermelon?"
"Yucky. It's better to stick with things that go together."
He had to think about that one. I was anticipating a barrage of recipe ideas not likely to make it on to the Food Network, but instead his quirky little brain went in another direction.
"Mommy, what happens if you mix a frog with a lion? Or what happens if you mix a truck with a puddle? Mommy? What happens if you mix today with yesterday? Mommy?"
Mommy is out. She's busy mixing rum with coke.