Sunday, March 22, 2009

And that's what register means

Last Tuesday I loaded up the boys in the car for a quick errand. Carson of course wanted to know where we were going. I told him that we were going to go and register him for preschool. He asked, "What does register mean?" I explained that we were going to tell the people who work there what his name was and where he lived so they would save him a chair for school.

We walked down the hall and I told Carson that we needed to go into that room and pointed to the office. He walked in a few steps ahead of me. The two women in the office said 'hello' and Carson replied with, "Hello, my name is Carson and my letters are C-A-R-S-O-N. I live at 123 Blue Jay Road Paris Misery (yes no many how many times he hears the correct pronunciation he pronounces MO that way)."

The director said, 'Okay, what can I do for you?" Then looked at me a little confused and I explained that he was there to register for preschool. They were impressed with my little man and so was I.

Of course the address provided is not our real address; in case you couldn't figure that out.

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