Target.

Turner and I are sitting at the table. He's just run my legs off with requests, and I finally sit at the table to eat dinner. He looks down into his Buzz Lightyear cup and looks over at my Buzz Lightyear cup and says, "Hey. We have the same cup."
"Yes. Indeed we do."
He thinks for a second or so. "Mom, thanks for getting me this." Getting him milk to drink instead of water.
"You're welcome."
"You know, on your next birthday I'm gonna buy you something great." Hmmm. Wonder where this is coming from. He's been talking of Christmas a lot, making lists here and there about toys that he envisions and then describes with much detail as though Andy and I will ever be able to find them.
"Well," and I begin telling him how my favorite present of all time was the one he got me for my last birthday (A puppet; there are pictures of it in a summer entry). "I just don't know how you will top that . . ." He interrupts me.
"No Mom. I mean I'm gonna get you something great like the kinds of stuff at Target."
"Oh."
"Yeah. I think I will get you . . . " he glances around the kitchen as he takes a drink of milk ". . . a microwave. Yeah. I will get you a blue microwave."
"Why do I need another microwave."
"Well" with that long hesitation on the "eh" "the one you have is all white. And this way you can warm up dinners two at a time. You can warm something up and then my dad can warm something up. That will be a great present."
"Very thoughtful, yes. But, I like those presents from your heart. The kind you can make."
"No no. You'll like the ones from Target too."
"Okay."

We eat for awhile. He confesses getting in trouble at school today "only" two times. We discuss the importance of being a good friend and of being respectful to teachers. T has a poop. I perform a wipe. Back at the table in his underwear he says, "Mom. When we go to Target to get your birthday present, can I get a little something?"
"Such as...?"
"Oh I don't know. I will just walk around and see."