A short true story about my morning with Paul

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Yesterday morning I woke up earlyish and folded laundry while re-watching "Eight Days a Week," the Ron Howard Beatles touring doc that I had taped on PBS -- because that's what young people do. Five and a half year old Paul came down and actually sat and watched the movie with me, asking which one was Paul in different scenes (and which of them were still alive and how old they are.)

A little bit into the movie and he turned to me and said "Mommy I know how to give lots of different things baths." I asked like what. The first, he told me, was a cat. We don't have a cat, but he told me that to give a cat a bath you "kind of hold it down" and put a cage in the bathtub and then put the cat in the cage and bathe the cat in there. With the rock, it involves a really big bucket but  not  soap.  

"Wow," I said. "Where did you learn this?" "I just came up with them on my own," he said.

That was the end of the list of things he knows how to bathe, so then we watched more of the movie.  

The end