I Thought It Was Funny. She Didn’t, But I Didn’t Say It For Her Anyway

I’m going to level with you, son.  Over time it has become more annoying than adorable when you insist that you’re “not L., just <Insert the name of your current favorite Thomas and Friends character here>!”, primarily because you do it most often when I call you by name to reprimand you, which is really not the best time to play that game.

It also doesn’t help how often you insist you’re “not L.” when nobody has actually called you that, and has, for instance, only asked you to walk somewhere.  Over the weekend I finally figured out that at least in that particular example, it’s because train engines don’t “walk,” they “chuff,” and that’s why you were objecting, a less than obvious fact that your mother quickly confirmed.

Right before she objected to my retort that I didn’t care if you called it walking or chuffing, so long as you got the “chuff” out of my way when I needed to get by you in the hallway.

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