Goosed

"Mom, I have something to tell you," Big Kid announced yesterday.

"Yes?"

"I identify as a goose."

"A goose?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. Wow. How long have you felt this way?"

"I've always known."

"Well, you know that I've always said that I will love you no matter what, right?"

He nodded.

"But I hate geese so this is a problem. Do you see yourself as a golden goose? Or the scary, flappy kind that poops everywhere and will steal a sandwich right out of your hand?"

"The scary, flappy, sandwich-stealing kind."

"Ugh. I had noticed the sandwich-stealing thing. I mean, I'll work on it -- I have no real valid reason to hate geese anyway so maybe it can be a life lesson for me. I just don't see why you can't be a cat or something less like a goose. "

"Yeah, but if you're a goose, you're a goose."

"Right. That's kind of the whole problem with being a goose -- the goose part. But it's fine."

Later his brother was telling an unrelated story about ducks and he interrupted and said, "Excuse me but as a goose, ducks are practically my cousins. CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE!"

I almost died laughing. I am so grateful that I am his mother goose.