Pillow Talk

{Flashback several years for background info} Several years ago before kids and drastic body changes, my husband thought it would be cute to refer to my br*&sts as “pillows.” They were soft and nice to lie on, after all. That was before they provided nourishment to two children and grew and shrunk several cup sizes. They aren’t so “pillow-y” anymore.

{Flash forward to yesterday} As my children and I backed out of the garage, my son noticed that one of the cushions from the porch furniture had blown away in the lovely 50 mph Kansas wind. My 2-year old daughter asked why it blew away. I told her the wind did it.

“Why does the wind blow?” she asked inquisitively.
“God just makes it blow,” was the first thing I thought of.

Last night (after I’d driven a few blocks down and found the cushion earlier in the day), the kids were telling my husband about their day. My son told about his day at school, that Belle had a birthday, that he learned about Abe Lincoln and drew a picture of a penny.

“And how was your day, little one?” he asked our daughter.
“God made mommy’s pillows go away,” she said.

It was apparent by the iced tea spewed all over the kitchen counter when he burst into laughter that my husband didn't know what she meant. Some things just don't warrant explanation.