My little man has been fascinated lately with doing things, such as walking to a neighbor's house or using a public bathroom, without me. He's been needing some time away from the little kids: Owen the Destroyer and Fiona the Annoyer. The poor kid can't build a train track without interference. Luckily, we have a 4 year old boy who lives right next door. It's an absolute God send.
So Danny will come over to play tomorrow morning, I say to my neighbor as I arrange a playdate.
Danny looks up at me, pats my leg and says: I'll go by myself. You don't need to come, mom.
I've been sending him over to ring their doorbell some afternoons to ask if his friend can come out and play. The experience holds some important lessons for him: ringing the doorbell only once, speaking to adults politely, taking no or not now for answer. Yesterday morning, I opened the side door, gave him some fruit snacks to take with him and sent him off. As I watched him leave, I marveled at how I trusted him to complete the entire interaction of going over to someone else's house to play without me. It's especially odd that I trust him so much given that we still have episodes like this one in our house:
GET ME MY PULLUP, a naked Danny screams at me.
That is a rather unfortunate way for a boy with a bare behind to behave, I said as calmly as I could.
Can you please get me a pullup? he says.
And Owen is still obsessed with shoes. And he's adding new sounds and words to his arsenal every day. Car sounds and monkey noises and rock and roll screams (taught him by his big brother). I can barely hear myself think. I got this out of him the other night after much snuggling and prompting:
Night night mama. AWWWWW. It would've been much sweeter had he stayed asleep all night, of course.
As for Fiona, I've been invited back into the poop loop, unfortunately.
Watch me poop, mommy.
Come see my poop, mommy. Do I have to? I'm eating breakfast.
I think the poor girl desperately needs positive attention. I spend most days keeping her from annoying her brothers. It's not pretty.
Watch out, Fifi, the utility truck is going to run over your baby doll. Guess who said this? If you answered Danny, you'd be wrong. It was Jim helping facilitate cleanup time.
There's scrambled eggs in her eye, mom. Yep, that's a pretty typical breakfast around here.
I'm going to get your clothes, mom, Fiona says when she marches into my room most mornings. She now picks out my clothes for me. And I get to tell her no. BWAHAHAHA.
I'm going to go the grocery store and do a robbery for you. What's a robbery, mom? Oh dear. I'm sure there will be a NASCAR involved in this one. The answer to every problem that comes up around her involves his NASCAR. This week his NASCAR has skates and can go underwater like a submarine.
Why do you want this on? I ask Danny who wants me to button his blazer that he has brilliantly paired with camouflage shorts.
I want to be comfortable. I'm going to do work.
You're not going to be comfortable in a blazer on a 100 degree day, kid.
Well, you kids call him Dad, I explained to Danny who was calling his father Jim.
I call him Jim now.
Mom, what does this say? Danny asks from across the room while I'm making breakfast. He wanted to know what the words on the bottom of a Matchbox car said.
I can't see that from across the room with my back turned, honey.
No, no, you have back eyes. I told him this once as a mommy-sees-all threat. Apparently it stuck.
Have a great weekend!