I'm always amazed by what my kids remember. Perhaps it's because they aren't simultaneously thinking about ordering food for a birthday party, making arrangements to board the dog, wondering if the baby has an ear infection, trying to decide whether to side or paint the house or cleaning the bathroom that their little minds are just more impressionable, with more room for random memories and the minutiae of everyday life.
Once I was folding a pair of green sweatpants and Cate said, "Do you remember one time when Ben spit up on those pants?" And, in the far corners of my mind, I DID vaguely remember that happening.
Or we'll be driving by College Green Park and she'll start talking about the ONE time we were there--what she wore, who she saw, and why we left early.
And so I often find myself shaking my head and saying, "Cate, I can't believe what a good memory you have."
Tonight I was laying in her bed getting ready to read stories. She claimed she wasn't tired and planted herself firmly on top of the headboard. She smiled smugly down at me.
Me: Cate, you need to either sit in bed or lie down in bed.
Cate: Why? I want to sit up here.
Me: This is your quiet time. I want you to be comfortable and cozy.
Cate: One time you let me sit up here while you read me stories.
Me: No. I have never let you sit up there while I read stories.
Cate: Yes you did.
Me: Cate, get in bed.
Cate: You DID Mom! And remember you always say I have a better memory than you.
And so it begins...
