Owen's imagination is really blossoming. He tells the greatest stories, and I've been writing some of them down.
The other day, he noticed a scratch on my leg. I didn't even know I had it. But Owen had a big story of course:
Owen: Oh no, Mommy has big owie.
Me: Yes, it IS a big owie, isn't it? What happened?
Owen: Mommy was hit by big tractor.
Me: Really? Where was the tractor?
Owen: In the grass.
Me: Who was driving?
Owen: Trooper (the dog).
Me: Are you serious? The dog was driving the tractor through the grass?
Owen: Yes. Tractor was carrying poop and hit Mommy.
Me: Oh. Wow.
Owen: Loud crash, grass broken and Mommy hurt.
So, apparently I was hit by a tractor. A poop-haulin' tractor that was being driven by the dog. I don't remember it, but Owen swears it happened.
If you're reading between the lines, you'll see that he is still obsessed with my car accident. He talks about crashes and rock walls all the time. I'm looking forward to the day that he realizes car accidents are not cool!
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