During dinner last night, J reported a story that I simply have to relate…

She teaches at the school the boys attend, and occasionally runs across them there. Yesterday, she saw our youngest walking across the playground, followed closely by a girl who was a few inches taller than him.

Naturally, J walked over to say hi.

The little guy stopped walking when he saw her. “I’m the king!” He announced in as deep a voice as his three year old throat could produce.

Caught off guard, J answered much as I would have: “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m the king. C’mon, princess!” He walked away, with the girl trailing along after him.

It’s good to be the king, baby!

…but when do I get a turn?

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