When Edie was only six weeks old, she learned how to text. This is the continuing saga of our communication.
EDIE: Pop, there's weird brown things around our apartment. And they aren't mushrooms this time.
POP: Those are called boxes. We put stuff we like in them so sweaty ex-Russians can put them in a truck for us and break the things we like.
EDIE: Ok. I will register this taste as 'box'. I'm off to lick the mushrooms again. What are the boxes for?
POP: We're moving.
EDIE: Cool. Where? To the park? Because I vote for the park.
POP: We're moving to Boston. It's farther than the park.
EDIE: So it's by the library? That's great. I love that place. The librarians are all nice and smell like gouda. And you know how I love gouda.
POP: Do you remember when we took those plane rides to California and Michigan?
EDIE: What? We're going on a plane? I hate those.
POP: I know. You adequately demonstrate that every time we fly. Well, Boston is much farther away than the park or library.
EDIE: You're taking me away from the PARK?! You monsters! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.
POP: Are you throwing an actual temper tantrum or just a text one?
EDIE: I couldn't decide. Also, I'm stuck between two of those box things. I'm going to lick a hole in this one and sabotage the whole move.
POP: We can just get a new one. This is happening. Wrap your little head around it.
EDIE: Fine! New plan! I'm going to hide until you have to stay.
POP: You get hungry like every two hours.
EDIE: Rats! Alright. Leave a bunch of cheese and squeezy fruit packages on the ground and then leave and then I'll hide.
POP: Hey, I don't want to leave New York either. Me and your Mom love it here.
EDIE: What's a New York?
POP: It's the city we live in. Actually, we live in Brooklyn which is a part of New York which is a city in the state of New York. Boston is in Massachusetts.
EDIE: I don't even know what you just wrote there. How about you just not ruin my life and move us to the park? I want to live near the Dog Pond. Dogs are hilarious.
POP: There will be a new park. A new library. A whole new world to lick.
EDIE: Don't pigeonhole me, Pop! Licking isn't my only 'thing'. I'm complicated. I'm a mystery wrapped in a cuddly blanket. Which is 50 percent mystery and 50 percent rayon.
POP: What are you licking right now?
EDIE: The bed spread. It tastes like soap and high thread count.
POP: We might live near Harvard. You could Good Will Hunting yourself into the school.
POP: Not really. Do you ever get tired of making me tired?
EDIE: I do not. Is there a dog pond in Boston?
POP: We should just get our own dog. Then you and me could just make our own dog pond. And by that I mean the bathtub.
EDIE: I don't think Mom wants a dog. Which is too bad because I just ordered a little baby saddle.
POP: Oh my gosh. The thought of you riding a dog makes me not even mad at you for using my credit card. And being on the internet.
EDIE: I want to be a baby jouster. Boston has that kind of crap, right?
POP: I'm sure. Boston is mega weird. Your Mom's getting out of the shower. Let's both look wistful while we stare at pictures of dogs.
EDIE: I'll get some tears going. She's a sucker for my weepy peepers.
