Real conversations with a three year old:
"Mommy, say 'Paugie, why are you in the cabinet?'" "Paugie, why are you in the cabinet?" "BECAUSE! I'm in the cabinet!" (Repeat entire scenario 7 times.)
"Paugie, please stop running the water in the sink." "No, I can't. It's my pond." "Paugie, the pond is full enough." (Into tearful despair) "Mommy, it will turn into a lake. I can't turn the water off."
"Here, Paugie. Let's put your sweater on." Sobbing ensues. Sweater on. "Mommy, it's too small." "Paugie, it fits just fine." "No, Mommy, it's too cold." "It will help warm you up, Paugie." "No, Mommy, it's sick. It has germs." Fine! Take the darn sweater off, already!
Midnight wailing from the boy's room. "Daddy, I need my pants on!" Daddy obliges. More despair. "Daddy, I need my shirt off!" Daddy obliges. The magic recipe for peaceful slumber.
This little brown bear follows me from room to room, chattering continually, or just walking behind me, helping in every task. He is a constant companion and his presence is one of my greatest treasures. My heart feels an ache, sometimes, for sheer joy at watching him grow into the tender, compassionate, and intuitive man he is becoming.
Jevy has morphed into the fearless daredevil and general busybody (nuisance) in the past 8 days - some developmental wonder which requires continual vigilance in Mommy's disaster aversion. A few snippets from our day: climbed onto the massage table and got stuck trying to get back off again, climbed from small step stool onto the counter top to test Mommy's tea, climbed from the crib onto the changing table (where he was rescued by Daddy from certain disaster), smashed a glass on the floor and proceeded to pick up the larger shards to throw again and observe the scattering affect on all remaining shards, emptied dog food bowl onto (all of) kitchen floor, unearthed mustard from fridge and poured it into the empty dog bowl (THAT could have been much worse!) and pulled 3 stacks of folded laundry onto the floor to paw through. Amidst this deluge of activity, his eyes catch mine and he runs into my open arms and throws himself onto me with a hearty laugh, giving me all his love in that moment. His love really is boundless and complete.
The littlest human in our midst is ever-morphing into a hopeless heart shmelter of all whom he encounters, but his toilet diving is not for the faint-hearted. He has a knack for knowing when the gate is open and access to the bathroom is fair game. The bigger little people in my life seem to have an uncanny inability to close said gate, so I am on ready-alert at all times. If I get distracted (confession: it happens), at least I always know where to find the critter. If all gates are closed and humans accounted for, then Shmelty Caleb will be found hunting the floor for any morsel of yumminess or nastiness that is available. All is well (for me) as he lays his head on my chest and sighs in contentment, or looks up from his latest adventure and smiles at me with his whole face.
My tiger overwhelms me all day every day with his insight, his ability to solve any dilemma, his unceasing energy, his enthusiasm for anything new, his excitement about getting to see the people he loves, his frustration with any perceived injustice. The greatest form of torture in his life is sleep. Bedtime stall #462: "Mommy, I'm breathing. It's so cold that if I go to sleep you won't be able to see my breathing. So I can't go to sleep." #463: "I think my brothers will dream better if I'm not in the room." #464: "Mommy, that's beautiful! I love what you've done with the cabinet (I'm repainting kitchen cabinets ever-so-slowly)! I think you need some help!" #465: "I need you to pat my back and not stop (ever)." Oh gosh, this boy is such a treasure store of all that is wonderful and inspiring.
|We had a sunny day|
|So, we made the most of it.|
|Even winter has it's own beauty.|
|Little man. Big tree. Mommy's gloves.|
|Homemade Christmas Tree.|
|Just readin' Pilgrim's Progress.|
|Team 2 in cupboard-town.|
|You only think it's empty.|
|Well, it doesn't have pots/pans anymore, so|
|you're kind of right. It's full of little men!|