Further proof that he's not a baby anymore

You know how there are those times when life is really good, but there's nothing particular noteworthy going on so there's no point in blogging stories of your life? Yea, that's me. Life is good - I meet clients, I talk to clients, I work for clients. I read good books. I hang out with friends and relatives. I think of travel and hope to do more soon. Otherwise?. Smooth. Nice and smooth. Nothing to tell you. Other than still trying to get enough done so I can head out of town again for a while. Thought that was gonna' be today. It's not. Thursday. Yea. Thursday sounds like a good day for a road trip, right?

Therefore, here's a story, instead. Stolen from the never-ending fodder that is provided by my nephew. Because everything he does is interesting, right?

So the kid has this stuffed dog. I want to say bulldog. Big and has this awesomely squished face.  Nephew calls it "I love you." As in "I love you" is the dog's name. Work with me. He's been in love with this dog since he first spotted it in a honkin' bin of identicals at IKEA a few months ago. (But let's be clear; the dog is distinctive. "I love you" got put down somewhere during our wanderings, then an hour later when it was decided he had been enough of a well-behaved boy that he got to go back and get the dog for his very own, and I was the one deemed worthy to take him, well... I did! Only when we got to the Bin O Dogs, the child was distraught. "No!" He declared. "I want the one who already loves me!" So we went and found the dog who loves him. Duh.)

Now for the story. No. That wasn't it. That was just the hugely built up back story to a story that will ultimately take me about two lines to convey. Ready? Here it is:

Sis tells me that this dog makes the perfect pillow for her head when bed time stories are to be read to the munchkin. So she often grabs the stuffed dog, positions it under her neck, and commences her reading. That worked just fine for everbody, or so it would seem, until last night...

Last night at story time, she moved "I love you" to a more comfy position, arranged him under her neck, and prepared to read to Rami. At which time the kid looked at her seriously and said, "He hates it when you do that."

Yup. That's my nephew!