"I spy..."

This is my Owen having a conniption at a family celebration last June. He cried, he screamed, he was not a happy little man. I believe he was tired and not getting his way...gasp! I must be a terrible mommy. ;)

Today after finishing our weekly trip to Costco I once again witnessed a little boy in his Daddy's arms having a royal meltdown. Gratefully it was NOT one of MY little boys. I looked on with a sense of camaraderie, here was a Daddy who wasn't going to allow their child to tantrum and get away with it. The Dad was cool headed and the kid was...not. ;) The little boy was screaming for his mama, I'm sure she would have made it alright. ;)

I digress. My story is about my Owen afterall. As I was climbing into the car, while Kevin was returning the cart, I was thinking how much I wanted to give the Dad in front of me a high five and congratulate him on a job well done. I was quickly pulled out of my revelry by the sound of my little man's voice.

Cool as a cucumber. "I spy with my little eye someone screaming."

His voice was calm and sounded like a calculated scientific assessment on the scene before us. The greatest, most hilarious part to me was the dichotomy, nay the juxtaposition, of the picture of Owen up top and the calm voice coming from the back seat of the van, "I spy with my little eye someone screaming."