I woke up yesterday morning to the sound of Chef Oskar (above, duh) tiptoeing around me. The cutest-almost-three-year-old was probably sent down to wake me up. I opened my eyes and he was walking back and forth in front of me, unsure of what to do. I smiled, and the first words out of his mouth where:
"Where is the ball?"
After he found it, I got up and went to my backpack. My clothes weren't actually in the bag, but strewn across the floor. Oskar quite plainly told me that someone had to clean up.
[note: my cutest-almost-three-year-old-nephew is actually tri-lingual. Polish with his dad (my brother), German with his mom, and English with his babysitter. All the talking he does to me is in Polish. The things he says in Polish are much cuter than the English translation.]
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