Dees John's pants, mama.
She says this as we get dressed, as I'm shimmying her pants up and buttoning them at the front.
John's pants?
Yes. Dees John's pants.
For weeks I had no idea what she meant. Our daycare provider's partner is named John, but I couldn't quite make the connection.
Then one morning I realized that she was only saying it on days when I dressed her in jeans.
Jeans.
Jean's.
John's.
Language lessons from my 2-year-old, ladies and gents.
I figure she must think I'm mistaken in claiming her pants belong to this Jean character when in fact, we don't know anyone by that name. I must mean John, who she sees several times a week. It would only makes sense.
No, mama. Dees John's pants.
Ok, Gretchen. You're right.
