We had our carpets cleaned on Wednesday as part of our rid-the-house-of-any-allergen-and-all-dirt-particles-frenzy. We are having the air ducts cleaned next week, buying a dehumidifier, and doing some deep spring cleaning. Good times for us, better times for our checkbook. Not really.
Anyway, the guy who cleans our carpets is really a nice guy. When my in-laws lived in this house, he was the one who cleaned their carpets...and he remembers this. In fact, when I book an appointment and give him my address, he always says, "Gayle's old house, right?"
And his name is Jeff. Which is confusing to the little one.
Grant was a bit fearful of the loud equipment, but mostly that he was going to be taken away by the carpet cleaning man. I was trying to subdue his fears, and I introduced him to "Mr. Jeff."
My mom was over and talking with Grant about "Mr. Jeff" and how nice he was. She then said, "his name is Jeff just like your daddy!"
She might have confused him a little bit.
The next day, Grant asked me several times where "Cool Beans Daddy-O" was at. Now, I say "cool beans daddy-o" at least once weekly, so I wasn't sure what he meant, but went out on a limb...
"Grant, do you mean 'where is Daddy?'"
"Yes" (pronounced Yays--it is too stinking cute, get him to say it for you soon)
"Daddy is still at school. He'll be home soon."
Several minutes later, we're in the van on our way to meet Jeff at school. Grant, out of nowhere, busts out with the following:
"I no like Mr. Jeff. I like my DADDY!"
I hope he isn't scarred for life thinking I was trading Daddy in for the carpet cleaner just because they happen to have the same name!
Y'know, any old guy with the name of Jeff will work...just kidding, Honey:)