"It's the time of the season for loving," Elijah informed me the other day at breakfast.
Most mothers of 5-year-olds might be shocked, but I dismissed it as yet another sign that the poor little guy has been subjected to too much of his baby-boomer father's 1960s-era music. Belting out lyrics that were popular nearly 40 years before your birth is just one of the hazards of being born to "late-in-life" parents.
Several hours later, as I was trying to deal with a tedious matter at our local bank branch, one of the tellers walked by the chairs where Elijah and I were sitting.
Teller: "Hi there, cutie! What beautiful red hair! How old are you?"
Elijah: (Silence)
Teller (leaning down to look directly into Elijah's eyes): "Well! Let's try another question. What's your name?"
Elijah (with a big smile and direct eye contact): "WHO'S YOUR DADDY?!"
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