(It has snowed twice this week...and so this photo may be my very last of fall folliage 2009. Consider me heartbroken!)
Late yesterday evening, Gabe and I made a trip to the grocery store so he could pick up something to make for dinner. After staring blankly into the frosty doors of frozen goods, checking cook times and peeking at his watch, Gabe finally speaks:
Gabe: "I really want to make a lasagna. But it has to be baked."
Me: "You should totally just microwave it. It's late."
Gabe: "No. It has to be baked."
Me (witchily snatching icy lasagna block from his hands): "Gaberdoodle. This one takes an hour and forty five minutes to bake. That means you won't be putting noodles in your mouth until 10pm."
Gabe: "Fine. You don't get to play 'Lasagna' with me."
Me: "Um...did you just say "play 'Lasagna'"?"
Gabe: (defensively) "Yes. Playing lasagna is when we buy frozen lasagna, bake it in an oven and then eat it with Ned (our kitten) like a happy family."
Just one of the millions of reasons why, in a few weeks, I will miss him terribly. My funny bone will probably dust up and crumble into a thousand little pieces.