Sitting at the red light, the boys in the backseat, I glanced in my rear view mirror to see Carter looking out the side window at the passing cars. He’s gotten so big, in what seems like little time at all. He’s reciting days of the week, he knows the months of the year, and can spell his name. It all seems to have happened in a blink of an eye. He’s a funny and wonderful kid, most of the time – because hello? He’s four – but the stuff that comes out of that kids mouth sometimes? Comedic gold.

As we waited at the light he said, “Mommy? I love Hudson.”

“Awe, that’s sweet Carter. You’re a good big brother,” I told him, “You like being a big brother, don’t you?”

“Ya. I like Hudson.”

“Would you like to have another baby brother? Maybe a baby sister someday?” I asked

“Nope. Not today Mommy,” he replied still looking out the window.

“No, not today Dude; someday.”

“We can’t Mommy,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Curious I asked why we can’t. Seriously? When kids say stuff like that it freaks me out. Do they know something we don’t know?

“No, we can’t. Because the Halloween store close soon. Halloween will be over.”