Me: Night night my lovey. See you in the morning.
Bram: Um. (thinking hard, with his finger on his chin) Um. Dad? Um. (really concentrating hard) What's your name?
Me (looking around for someone else in the room): Are you talking to me?
Bram: Yes. Um. Hmmmm.....What is your name again?
Me: What do you think my name is? (I was getting a little worried that he maybe had a stroke or something at this point)
Bram: Um. Courtney. Your name is Courtney.
Me: That's right. But what do YOU call me.
Bram: Hmmmm. I call you......hmmm........Mom. Yeah, I call you mom. And so does my sister.
Me: Yes. I am mom. That is righty-roo! Great job buddy! OK, how many fingers am I holding up?
Luckily he answered my list of basic questions (numbers, colors, animal sounds, etc.) correctly or we would be speeding toward Dell Children's in Austin.
This is a conversation you have with a great-grandparent suffering from dementia.
Not your bright three year old boy. Weird.