Holiday Recap

We had Christmas.

Then we had Christmas again.

Then we went to the Science Center for New Years.

I’m tired. Is it time to go back to work yet?

Those bears are my kind of people

I sometimes witness other people’s kids getting asked to do stuff, and then they just do it. This usually makes me a little jealous and frustrated, because that is not how you operate.

Except…sometimes you do. It seems like it goes in cycles, this pushing back and arguing and resisting thing that you do, and this last cycle has been so long that when your father asked you to get dressed this morning and you just did it, afterwards he whispered to me:

“…That is not our kid.”

We had a hard time remembering the last occasion when you just did something, instead of arguing every tiny request, asking unrelated questions to avoid the topic, or ignoring us completely.

Then when I dropped you off at daycare, you thanked me, completely unprompted, for allowing you to put your boots on the boot rack. Your boots aren’t supposed to go on the boot rack, they’re supposed to go in your locker, but you like them to go on the boot rack. And because it is a rack for boots, I often let you. But that is certainly the first time you’ve ever thanked me for it.

I wonder, actually, if it has to do with your media consumption. It does seem as if your behaviour is somewhat influenced by whatever children’s show you’re choosing to watch at the time. I outright banned “Max & Ruby”, for instance. Max is an obnoxious two-year-old bunny who demands things in one-word sentences, and Ruby is an ineffective surrogate parent whose patronizing tone grates on my nerves. When you went through a period where that was all you wanted to watch, you began demanding things in one-word sentences.

(When I placed an embargo on Max & Ruby, I made the mistake of saying I didn’t like them. You demanded to know, “What have they ever done to you?”)

Lately, however, you’re reading and watching a lot of Berenstain Bears. I find them a little syrupy, but I can’t fault their morals or manners. I feel a bit dishonest skipping over the references to the Bible, but, whatever. I take no issue with Christian ethics when they’re in bear form, apparently.

It’s almost enough to make an atheist take their kid to church. Well, maybe bear church.

Now I just need to make that the entirety of your viewing and reading schedule for the next…oh, 12 years.

Just so we’re clear, it is the dog’s fault that I won’t make you large batches of salted play-doh anymore. Also, that you probably won’t be getting anything for Christmas.

(Fine, you will still get Christmas presents. I just feel compelled to blame as much as possible on that stupid canine.)

Growing pains

You had a growth spurt recently, which means we went through copious amounts of peanut butter sandwiches, and a couple of sleepless nights due to pains in your legs.

“Here, buddy,” I said on the third night, “Take some Advil so your legs don’t hurt.”

“Okay,” you said. “Mom, why my legs hurt?”

“It just means your legs are growing, bud. It’ll go away soon.”

“But I don’t want them to grow!” you said in dismay.

“You don’t?”

“No! I don’t want to grow big. I will lose these little legs!” you told me earnestly, clutching the legs in question.

I didn’t know quite what to say. Trust me, you won’t miss those little legs as much as I will.

Silence

I realize that I am not blogging much for you lately. It isn’t that I don’t have anything to say; I think it’s more that I say so much during the course of a day, that after you’ve gone to sleep I just want to sit in silence.

I don’t mean that in a negative way. I mean that you are four years old, and a source of constant amusement, and also a source of constant chatter. I answer your questions or help you find the answers as best as I can, but, sometimes it is exhausting. It isn’t a bad thing, it just IS.

I truly realized it this weekend. You and your father are away, with your grandmother, and the silence in the house is deafening. The dog doesn’t ask me if she can watch tv, have a treat, go outside, go downstairs, what’s that thing? Who’s that guy? The laundry doesn’t re-arrange itself after I’ve folded it, and I don’t have to give it warnings about its behaviour or remind it for the umpteenth time to say “please”.

I love it, the constant waves of your voice, watching your mind work with each small interaction, watching you put 2 and 2 together because of an answer I’ve given you. I love the answers you give back, your logic, the suppressed smiles your father and I exchange when you’re being cheeky. I wish I could capture every moment but I can’t, when I’m in it, I can just tread water and be carried along on the waves.

Sometimes it takes silence to lend contrast to how awesome the noise is.

Priorities

We had your birthday celebration yesterday, and as it does every year, it involved waffles and cake. This year I could actually ask you what kind of cake you wanted, and you told me you wanted a “hairplane” cake.

(We think “hairplane” is cute, so we say it back to you. You could probably pronounce “airplane” correctly by now, except that we’ve been reinforcing the wrong one.)

Well, I tried, sweetie. But I was kind of winging it and it ended up looking suspiciously like the airplane that crashed into the side of the the Himalayas and all the passengers had to eat each other to survive. All crumpled up and covered in questionable-looking debris.

“Cake!” you said when you saw it.

“Yeah. Um, what kind of cake do you think it is?” I said hopefully.

“Chocolate!” you exclaimed with glee.

Ah, children. Reminding us of the important lessons: Who gives a shit what it looks like? IT’S CAKE.

Four

What Four looks like in the morning:

"Mom, I don't want pants. No pants."

"I don't want that shirt. Nooooo! Light McQueen shirt! No, not that Light McQueen shirt!"

"I don't want breakfast."

"Mom, I watch? One more show?"

What Four looks like on the way out the door:

"I hafta peeeeee!"

"I want the other car."

"I need a plushie!"

"I'm hungrrrreee! I want breakfast!"

"Mom, I frozen. I frozen, I can't move."

"I need to run around the tree!"

"Chase me, Mom! Chase me!"

What Four looks like in the evening:

"Mooom, I'm huuunggrrrrrry. I'm staaaarvvving. I need a snack."

"No, I don't want dinner, I'm not hungry.”

"No bath."

"I go outside?"

What Four looks like at bedtime:

"I'm thirsty."

"I'm hungry."

"I want a bath!"

"Five more minutes, you said five more minutes!"

"Mom, jus' a minute, I'm doin' something."

"Mom, read me a book. Now read it again!"

"We play trains? Do a puzzle? Brush my teeth?"

"I need my other blanket."

"I'm scared."

"I want someone to sleep with me!"

"I sleep in the big bed?"

"I don't wanna sleep in the big bed, I sleep on the couch?"

At this rate, Four will last FOREVER.

And that is just fine with me.

Happy birthday, little man.