Our boy has got his own developmental spurt going on these days. He's tripping over his own ideas, completely lost in his own imagination. He's also becoming very aware of ideas of what's "fair," and often calls us on our own hypocrisy.
For example, his preschool teacher taught the class a phrase: "You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit." He loves to tell it to himself, a reassuring mantra of sorts, when something happens that he doesn't like. (i.e., I tell him there's no dessert.) It's as if he enjoys self-disciplining.
But the other night he outsmarted me when I tried to avoid reading his Sesame Street cookbook before bed for what seemed like the 30th night in a row. (I mean, really. Who wants to read a COOKBOOK out loud? All he wants to do is tell me what things he doesn't like: "I don't like meat." "Oh, I don't like strawberries." "I wouldn't like that squash, mom." Ok, ok, I know already.)
Anyway, I told him I was sick of that book and to pick out something else, and he immediately turned on me.
"You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit," he said solemnly.
He had a point.
He plays elaborate games in the bathtub, making "soups" out of soap and creating little worlds with the toys. A few nights ago, he was playing with a Matchbox car in there, doing loops around the rim of the tub.
"This driver is really fast," he told me. "He's the fastest."
I asked him what the driver's name was, and without hesitation he told me, "Johnny Second."
Johnny Second. How awesome is that name for a race car driver?
Recently, he's gotten interested in the computer, and now he likes to spend time working on his "document." Last night, when he was typing away, he informed me that he was writing the story of "A Bug's Life." He furiously banged on some keys, then asked, "Mom? Is that spell right?"
Of course I told him it was perfect.
He's just the sweetest child ever. Last night before bed, while I was putting on his jammies, he brought up the notion of getting married. I told him when he was a grown up, he'd find someone that he loved and maybe they would get married.
"Who, mom?" he asked.
"Probably a nice girl," I replied (who knows?)
His eyes widened, and he grabbed my face with both hands, peering into my eyes.
"But I want you to be my married!" he said, alarmed.
Melt. "Well, you are lucky," I said, "because you will get to have someone you love, AND I will still be your mama!"
"Well," he said, appeased, "when I am a grownup, I will still like you every day."
And when he's 16, I will read this post every single day.
No comments:
Post a Comment