Don’t Kill Your Brother

Asher’s got a problem: he’s 3.

Tonight he was rolling around in bed, talking 3-year old smack. Truman comes downstairs (they share a room) and tells me that “Asher told me, “I’m gonna kill you.”” So I go upstairs and talk to Ashy about that. Kid is hard, though. He don’t crack. No admission whatsoever. Except when I finally say, “Ok, Ashy, what do you need to do?”, expecting an answer like, “I need to go to sleep, dad.” What’s he come back with? “Not kill Truman.”

Yeah, kid. Don’t kill your brother. And go to sleep now.

5 thoughts on “Don’t Kill Your Brother

  1. Reminds me of my brother and I growing up. No worries thought it only gets worse; much worse until it becomes and inseparable band of brothers. At least this was my experience anyways.

    Cheers you two

    Tom Beecher

  2. I swear, three year olds are going to take over the world. Tonight Trey asked me if I wanted a beer. I said I was taking a break from beer for awhile. So he says, “yeah, I’m going to take a break from donuts.” Me too.

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