we never get bored

My youngest son is best described as a chatty Cathy doll. He loves to talk.

Just like his Momma, I suppose. My sisters still give me grief that as a child I told never-ending stories with all sorts of unnecessary details, such as the color of shirt the girl at school was wearing, or whether Bobby had a part down the middle of his hair.

Ok, so I'm descriptive. But I think those details paint a pretty nice picture. After all, who wouldn't want to know about Bobby's hairline?

And so my 4-year-old gets it honest. He talks and talks, then talks some more. Not with the typical question of 'Why' at the end of each sentence, because let's face it, Hayden doesn't really care why. Instead, he's the storyteller. Except I'm not sure where one story ends and a new one begins.

It's no surprise that following his first day of moving up to a new classroom at preschool, his teacher sent home a note that read: 'My favorite thing about today: Talking to Mr. Q about everything.'

Fair assessment.

By the way, as I tucked my little guy into bed last night, we shared an interesting conversation...

Him: Mom, it won't be long before I have a girlfriend.

Me: Really? I bet so. What do you think she'll look like?

Him: I don't know. Pretty, probably. With brown hair.

Me: Okay. You think you'll take her out to dinner?

Him: Yeah, I guess. Probably to Chick fil-A. They have good waffle fries.

Me: They sure do. What do you think her name will be?

Him: Mirinda. I like that name.

Me: (Never heard of it) But, no kissing, right?

Him: Oh, I'll kiss her. Even on the lips. But NOT with lipstick.

Me: Yep, you don't like lipstick.

Him: And she'll probably wanna come over to my house.

Me: Maybe one day you'll get married.

Him: Yeah, probably. Just like you.

Me: And have kids just like we had you.

Him: Yep. I think I'll have six.

Me: Wow, that's a lot. You've gotta help change diapers, too.

Him: I know. But, that's gross.