After a long morning of Christmas shopping that involved traipsing from store to store and in and out of register lines (sheer torture for a four year old), we had just gotten back into the car when Caleb asked me, “Mom, where are we going next?”
“Home,” I replied.
“Oh, good. I love home, Mom,” he said, a note of relief in his voice. “It’s warm, and it smells good, with no monsters and no lightning storms. Sweet home, sweet home!”
(How cute is that?)