Stamp of the Weeble

We had just dropped the Eldest off at work.

"I need to go to the post office."

Himself paused a the edge of the parking lot, tongue sticking out, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to figure out which direction the post office was in.

"The Sutton post office."

He snorted.

"What?"

"You sound just like your mother! 'You have to take me to the Framingham post office,'" he mimicked.

"Hey! It's not like I'm mailing a sweepstakes entry or sending a request to Nostradamus! I have to make the 3pm truck." I had an oversized package to mail to a client.

He laughed .

"Jan will take care of me."

He laughed again.

"Shut up, and take me to the post office."

"Yes, your Weebleness."