Conversations with my 7-year-old.
At breakfast this morning, my little one says, “I love that the birds are singing to us every morning again.”
I just sip my coffee and listen to them chirp. “Wait until spring is here in a few weeks…”
“One week. Plus three days.”
“Yes,” I say. “One week. Then…”
“Plus three days,” he corrects.
“Yes,” I say again, “that’s the equinox. Spring. Right. Anyway, the birds will be chirping and singing and sounding so, um…”
“Melodious. They’ll sound melodious.”
Yes, my beautiful little boy, that’s exactly the word I was going to use before I finished my coffee this morning. Definitely not “good” or anything.