We sat down for dinner the other night when Sam realized he didn't have a drink. He quickly and emphatically asked me to get his milk, asking, "where IS it, Mommy?"
I was feeding Grey which prompted a few more questions. It went something like this.
S: "Mommy, whachew do-een?"
Me: "I'm feeding Grey."
S: "Have milk?"
Me: "Well, sort of. Grey can't have the same milk you drink."
S: (holding his cup towards Grey) "Here Grey."
Me: "That's sweet of you to share, buddy, but Grey can't drink that milk."
S: "Where's it come from?"
(Bob and I look at each other. Muffled chuckling insues.)
Me: "It comes from me, bud."
At this point, Sam starts unbuttoning his shirt and reaching his hand inside and mumbling something about "I feed Grey..."