The Comparison

Out of the blue on the ride home from the grocery store, Baby Boy asked me, "Where is God?"

Not affiliated with any religion, I still believe that there is a powerful spirit that unites all beings.

"Well, God is everywhere and in everything," I said. "God is always looking out for us and making sure we are doing our best."

He sat with that for a moment and concluded, "So God is actually like a toddler and Santa mixed together?"

Whatever works for you, Buddy!

The Personal Shopper

Baby Boy has swim class today.

While I was packing his stuff, he looked with distain at his (rather nifty) shark bathing suit and began to describe the suit he would much rather wear.

"It would be like a Batman suit, but shorter so I wouldn't get too hot but there would be real wings that would float and I would have a helmet with ears so I could hear underwater and even teeth so I could scare away bad fish but not so I would scare away the babies also at the beach and boots but not like my smelly winter boots but ones that would make me swim really fast and a belt that could hold my toys and then we can eat ice cream. Do you think we can get that? And then get the ice cream?"

"That sounds pretty involved for a swimsuit. Where do you think they sell that," I asked.

Long pause for thought.

"Um, in my 'magination. Or Target."

The Must Have Button

Baby Boy was getting awfully impatient as I folded two giant loads of his and Darling Husband's laundry.

"When can we go play outside??????"

"When I am done folding all of your clothes."

Insert pause long enough for me to fold two pairs of I-want-to-be-just-like-daddy boxers, three have-seen-whiter-days white undershirts and match you-are-close-enough-to-black navy with black socks.

"Mama? What if there was a button you could press that would make someone else come and do this instead? Can you get someone like that?"

"Yes, sweetie. It is called 'you'."

"Oh. I guess I can wait to go outside then."

"I thought so."

The Big Question

Baby Boy had his 4-year well-baby check up today.

The nurse jumped right in with a plethora of judgmental questions that had me lying quite early in the morning.

"Can he draw a person with more than three parts?" she asked.

"He's a regular Picasso!" (If scribbles in one color count.)

"Can he stack a tower with more than 12 blocks?"

"I think he will be an architect!" (He usually smashes then down by number 7, but I am sure he could...)

"Does he know fantasy from reality?"

We both gaze at Baby Boy who is decked out in full Bat Man garb and who introduces himself as such.

My long pause gives me away.

"He's four," I said. "Does he have to?"

A Wish List for Mom

Our babysitter helped Baby Boy make a card for Mother's Day. It was titled, "The Reasons I Love Mom."

Here is what he dictated:

She...
lets me eat gum for dinner.
takes me to Chuck E. Cheese everyday.
lets me use the oven.
lets me drive her car.

lets me cut down trees.
lets me make fires in the fireplace.

If any of these thing were true, I would win Mother of the Year in the eyes of my 4-year old and a night in jail courtesy of DHS.

Patrick

The kids from across the street came running over after school. As I unloaded the dishwasher, I was vaguely aware of them huddled with Baby Boy in the kitchen. I was too tired to try and interpret their whispers. Within minutes they were running out the door, anyway.

Minutes after they were gone, I hear a scraping on the floor. The dog was busy licking the cabinet, so it wasn't him.

I peered around the corner.

There was a turtle there. A TINY TURTLE.

"KIIIIIIIIDS!!!!"

They came running back.

"What is that?" I pointed at the small object by the stool.

"Oh, that's Patrick. We found him in the road on the way over," they explained. Duh. And they were off again.

Before the dog tired of the tasty cabinets and went looking for something more lively to eat, I popped the turtle into a cup.

A teacup turtle.

I am not sure what to do next, but I think baby turtles may be the new labradoodle. You heard it here first.

The Real Classroom

I met my brother and niece at the playground this morning. There was a mother who was pushing her 14-month old son on the swing. Each time the infant made contact with her hands she would shove him away but not before screaming a Spanish number at him.

There is nothing as harmonious as Spanish with a Maine accent.

"OOO-NUH!"

"DUH!"

"TREES!"

"QATT-RAH!"

Well, no Red Neck was going to outshine me. I decided to bellow German numbers at Baby Boy.

(Keep in mind I know not a word of German, yet I suspected no one was about to call me out on my attempt. It also helped allergy season has arrived early.)

"OONCH!"

"DUSCHE!"

"TRECHGGZZZZFF!"

My brother chimed in with Sanskrit, while I was about to start carving heiroglyphics on the picnic table. Mama Espanol quickly fled.

My brother and I weren't very popular in high school and now I am starting to figure out why.