A few nights ago we were stopped at a stoplight. The van in front of us had a ton of bumper stickers that encouraged us to spend money on education not war, PEACE and to COEXSIST. Adam and I read them silently and after a moment he said, "Eh. Hippies."
Remembering a conversation we had just had about him PREFERRING whole wheat pasta over white and craving GRANOLA, I shot him a dirty look. Suddenly, a little voice behind me said, "HIPPIE!"
Adam started snickering and said, "George, are those hippies?"
"HIPPIE!"
"Knock it off!" I hissed to Adam who was shaking with laughter. To George I asked, "George, what does hippie mean?"
"It.mean.hippie!"
Adam was laughing harder now and I was giggling. "YOU are a hippie," I informed my all natural peanut butter, gardening, animal loving nature boy.
"Nooooo. Daddy hippie!" he said gleefully. "Dem hippie!" he shrieked pointing at the van.
By this time, we were all laughing as we drove away to George singing "hippiehippiehippie!" from his car seat.
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