One of the many delights of motherhood is rediscovering everything. Centrifugal force! Gravity! Color! Words!

This evening over dinner, Nathan was waxing poetical about his milk. How good it makes him feel, how comforting it is ("it hold holds me"), and how white it is.

Orange juice was Isaiah's beverage of choice, and being equally pleased with the contents of his cup, he felt the need to chime in with his own description.

"My orange juice is r... My orange juice is ye...."

Realization spread over his face like the glow of sunrise. "My orange juice is orange! Orange orange juice."

And so it is that tonight I am wondering once again...

Which came first, the color or the fruit?

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