Ism of the Week

"Who is ready to find a train?"

"I do!"  

"No, Graham!  Hrmph."

"Why don't you want to see a train, Cael?  It's part of our Wednesday night tradition."

Apparantely that was intriguing enough to bring a halt to the whining, but invited another set of questions.

"What's a tradition?"

"It's something special you do every week or month or year.  Like at Christmas time... you know how we always leave cookies for Santa and carrots for Rudolph?  And how we open stockings and then presents?  What about how--" 

"Like when we eat breakfast!  That's one of our conditions!"

I could have corrected him, but I'm used to him making demands and listing his conditions, so this is nothing new.

"Well sort of, Cael.  But eating is something we have to do to live, not really a tradition."

"That's not right, Mommy.  We have lots of conditions.  Like eating and drinking and sleeping, because we do those every day.  And pooping!  That's my favorite condition.  And it's special, like you said."

Special?  Not so much.  Toxic?  Completely. 

But again I don't bother to correct him because I get a kick out of this particular mistake, and while I want him to learn, I also have to create some fun for myself, right?  It's one of my traditions.