WHM loves Costo. LOVES it. I mean, he's two and will specifically request to go there. Some kids recognize the McDonald's golden arches before they can read; WHM would scream "COCOS" at the top of his lungs. (Cocos. Rhymes with "tacos," in case you were wondering. Hence my title.)
Well, today we were on our way home from our mad quest for a straw dispenser (long story, will share later) and all of us (and by "all of us," I mean Mick and I) were starving. We were talking about whether we would go home, or run our errands at Costco and grab lunch, or what. WHM had been crying and moping that he just wanted to go home, but upon hearing us talk about Costco, he latched onto that. He wouldn't let it go and was so overtired and grumpy that he pitched a minor fit in the backseat.
After a few minutes of driving us all crazy, CAM about exploded:
"WHM, FIRST of all, it's COST-co. And second of all, we're not going there, we're going to the Border. And third of all ..." ("The Border" is On the Border restaurant, and I don't remember what her third point was, but I think she repeated point number one.)
And then, much to my dismay, WHM changed his tune:
"I GO COSSSSST-co. I go COSSSST-co."
I went from laughing at CAM's outburst to crying about WHM in the span of about 15 seconds.
Sad day for me. Sad, sad day. My little guy is saying Cocos right. What's next?!