When Harper was young, she couldn’t quite pronounce the name of her best friend, Avery. Whenever she saw Avery, she would scream, “Wee Wee!” I would scream “Wee Wee” as well just because I thought it was funny — and because it seemed to irritate her parents. I continued doing it long after Harper stopped (or started saying it correctly). Avery always laughed and said, “My name is not ‘Wee Wee!'”
It soon escalated to the point that all of Harper’s friends were playing the game. Whenever they saw me, they would immediately warn me not to call them “Wee Wee.” I would of course respond by calling them “Wee Wee,” and they would run away giggling.
One morning, Harper came in my room, and we were talking about the upcoming day. She then came up with what is probably a more acceptable way to refer to small children than what I had been using up to this point, “drunken midgets.” I don’t remember what she said, but it involved “the wee-wees” coming over.
…I also think it would make a good name for a band, but I tend to think that about everything.
Weston drew some pretty rad birds.
Conrad came wandering into our room after everyone, including Conrad, had gone to bed. His eyes were half open, but he wasn’t responding to any of my questions. He just stood by me and looked around. I asked one last time, “What’s up, Conrad?” He looked off to the side while pounding his fists together like a baseball catcher, and said in a reassuring tone, “We’ve got it together.”
Harper was telling me about her new friend and said, “I like her f-words.”