As we were riding to daycare this morning, Miles shared his expectations for Jaclyn’s upcoming birthday weekend.
“What should we do for mom’s birthday?” I asked him.
“Someone come to the door,” he said. He said nothing further.
“What do you mean?” I replied.
“Hnnnh,” he mumbled quizzically. Then he repeated himself. “Someone come to the door.”
“Just…someone?” I asked, sorta creeped out. “Like, is it someone we know?”
Miles was silent.
“Miles, who’s at the door?” I asked more directly.
“Hnnh,” he said again. “Taco!” he finally settled on, defaulting to his best friend who is also a dog.
“Taco’s at the door??” I asked incredulously. “Is anyone else with him?”
“And…” His voice trailed off ponderously. “Wha who that unna guy is?”
“Mister Stephen?” I asked, reminding him of Taco’s dog-dad.
“Yeah,” Miles said. “Mister Stephen and Taco comin’ to the door.”
I am not at all certain that a visit from Taco is in the cards for this weekend, but I wasn’t about to squash Miles’s hope that early in the morning.