4/29 – What’s that Smell
You know that proverbial smell only a mother could love? In my case, the dank sharp musk of my boy who has lingered in jammies all morning, filtering through his unkempt, never-been-cut, almost 3-year old beautiful golden swirl of bed-head hair. Drinking in a big whiff, I say to him off handedly, “WHEW boy, you smell like BED.”
Next he chases the cat somewhere in the apartment; one of his default interstitial sports. I am just thinking how good it is for kids to have a pet -someone of lower rank in the family for them to Be Bigger Than- when I hear him shouting from the farthest room; “CAT! You smell like PAW!”
4/25: Dignity of Pregnancy (just kidding; it’s an oxymoron)
Upon dropping him off in the park with his daycare provider, amidst the gaggle of other daycare providers and *their* charges (all peaceably sitting around, playing or nibbling on breakfasts) because of my protruding belly Gavin is obliged to field inquiries about his pending baby sibling. After kissing me goodbye, but before I go, he says, “Hey, guys!” (He is pretty good at getting people’s attention – go figure.) “I can TELL you something,” he says, “I can tell you where my baby will come from.” Naturally, everyone is piqued. Modestly I start to open my coat, helpfully getting ready to show the belly bulge as a sort of visual aid. Then he says, “My mom’s HOLE.” I could still hear them cackling as I biked away.
4/19: Team Mates
Playing with a chess board for the first time, we go over how all the pieces move, how ‘the queen is the most powerul, the king is the most important,’ and how when you get the other guy’s king it’s called “Check mate!”
Then he says, “Mom! *I* know mom. *You* be the queen, and *I’ll* be the king.”
me: “You wanna stay on the same team?”
me: You got it buddy.
Th 4/14: The One
Passing a blooming flower tree on our bike ride to school he says, “But mommy I wanted to pick on of those flowers for you… Because I’m the one who picks flowers for you.”
Tues 4/12: What’s Your Name Again?
Riding in the car, my almost 3 y/o boy says, “You’re Jenny. Right?”
me: Well yes; Jenni*fer*…
he: ‘Jenny’ is short for ‘Jennifer?’
me: That’s right.
he: And ‘Daddy’ is short for ‘Paul.’
he: But he’s tall.