Actually found a matching pair of gloves this morning in the messy bin of winter hats and lint.  They were the kind with little skeletons all over them and had been lost since last winter.  I hand them to Frankie before school expecting to hear, “Awesome!”  or “Cool!  You found them!” or maybe even the totally unrealistic, “You rock, Mom!”

“Look what I found, Frankie!”

His face lights up like a birthday candle and he sputters, “Woa!  Ho!”  He turns them over and shoves them onto his hands and adds,  “. . . my, my.”

My, my indeed, Frankie.  My, my.