A Way in Which He is NOT Like His Mother

For as anal retentive as I am (let's just call that an endearing quality, shall we?), about any number of things, being on time is one of the things I have to work on. I'm not usually very, very late, but I'm usually spot on, or one to five minutes late. And to be so, I'm scampering out the door. Truth be told, I do a lot of math and rationalizing in my head that tells me that if I take an imaginary shower during which I suddenly figure out the secret to turning off the luxurious, relaxing water or blow dry my hair in a land where my hair always cooperates, etc. then I CAN read for seven more minutes instead of two.

Anyway, Collin seems to want to be on time for our future move to D.C. He keeps asking when we are going: as in asking every day, sometimes up to thirteen thousand times a day. It hasn't passed into annoying yet because I know how much he misses Daddy and I do too. All he seems to understand about D.C. is that Daddy lives there and that it snows there. These are the only two facts about the place that he seems to have retained. Someone get that kid a book or two so we can beef up his knowledge. 

Alas, he is dressed for the occasion. Daddy didn't have the heart to take his winter hat with him when he saw Collin put it on and ask to keep it. It's not like it's inappropriate for a nearly four-year old child to wear a cap with a Guinness logo on it, is it? Besides, it's reversible, to a different Guinness logo. Wait, that's equally inappropriate. 

So, a lot of our conversations these days go something like this:

Mommy: We are stopping at Von's on the way home from school because we are out of milk.
Collin: Ok. And then are we moving to D.C.?
Mommy: No.
Collin: Why not?
Mommy: Because we will have just bought milk and we still have to finish it.
Collin: Oh. Well, I can eat snow when we get there though.
Mommy: It's still going to be a whole year. Sorry bud.
Collin: Ok. (Long pause) Well then, can I have a piece of candy.