A few days ago, the boys and I were out driving. We were on our way to pick up Mommy's medicine (for the lovely strep throat she managed to get) at the local grocery store pharmacy. Typically, when it's just me and Connor, we walk inside. This particular day it was all three boys, so we opted for the drive-through window, which meant taking a different road.
Connor thought he knew where we were going.
"Wait!" he cried from the back seat.
"What?" I asked, continuing to drive to our destination.
"You didn't turn," he said, very matter of factly. "That was the way to Poppy John's!" Not Papa John's, mind you, but "Poppy John's." That part was cute. But there was also tone, and perhaps even a little eye roll mixed in, which wasn't so cute.
"Yes, baby, you're right," I told him. "But THIS is the way to the pharmacy."
He was not pleased. Here he was thinking pizza, and Mommy was wanting medicine. Clearly I had my priorities all wrong.
