Early yesterday morning, as I did my usual morning stint of baby-sitting my nearly 3-year old grandson for an hour before taking him to the childminder, he said there was a dead fish in his fish tank. “You get it out, Granny,” he said.
I told him that daddy would get it out when he came home, and said that he must remember to tell him that there was a dead fish in the tank.
“OK,” he said. “Where shall I put the remember?”
That made me laugh. I tapped his head. “In here,” I said. “In your brain.”
When Lee picked him up from Donna’s he ran up to him and said, “Daddy, there’s a dead fish in my brain.”