Noah and I are in the car alone, a rare occurrence.

N: Mom, I’m just wishing I could see you little.

R: Do you mean you wish you could see me when I was a kid?

N: Yeah. I don’t really know what you looked like.

R: You’ve seen pictures, haven’t you?  I looked like I do now, only smaller. And with different hair.  Actually, no, forget it – I looked exactly like this but smaller.

N: Oh. But, Mom, I wish I could see you now little.

R: Mmmmm, do you mean you wish I was the kid me right now so you could see what that was like?

N: Yeah.

R: That would be cool, huh?  I wonder if we would be friends.

N: I would be your friend.

R:  You would be my friend if I was four and a half?

N: Yeah! You would be funny!

R: I’m not sure I’d be as funny as you are. You’re pretty funny.

N: Well, I can make some funny faces. See, like this! (sticks tongue out, rolls eyes)

R:  Totally hilarious.

(pause)

N: But Mom, do you know what I really want to know about you little?

R: What’s that, buddy?

N: Could you run fast?

R: Like the wind, buddy.  I was so fast, you wouldn’t even believe it.

N: I thought you were gonna say that.