Two-and-half-year-old G. scurried over to the table tonight after he finished dinner completely concerned.
"Where's my other giraffe?" he asked.
Hubs and I scanned the living room floor in a quick search for it.
"I don't know, G.," I said. "Where did you leave him?"
"Noooo, mommy," he explained. "I have the daddy giraffe. Where's my mommy giraffe?"
"Oh," I said, clearly amused that now all of his two Noah's ark animals are either mommies or daddies. "I don't know where she is."
"Did you leave her in the ark?" hubs asked.
"I don't think so," G. said.
"Well, where do you think the mommy giraffe could be?" I asked.
"Maybe she's in the laundry room doing some laundry," G. answered.
Hubs and I giggled. And I couldn't help but play along.
"Do you think she could be playing Candyland with her little boy giraffe?"
"No, I don't think so," G. said.
"Well, maybe she's feeding the baby giraffe?" hubs prodded.
"No, she's not there either," he replied confidently.
"So where do you think she went?"
"She probably went to Curves to work out after dinner," G. replied matter of factly as hopped off my husband's lap and scurried off to find the other ark animals.
And there you have it, friends. In my little one's eyes, mommies are either doing laundry or working out a Curves. Even when they are giant, long-necked herbivores with four legs and orange spots.