It takes a bit of adjusting when you transfer from babyhood to toddlerdom. I was used to fairly quiet grocery store visits, but suddenly my child has turned into the unofficial store-wide people greeter. Which means that, at the top of his little lungs, he yells a two-syllable "Hiiiiiiiii" to each person we see. My last shopping trip got me thinking about all of the funny things that little ones do, that adults can't (or at the very least, shouldn't). For example, a few weeks ago we arrived at the chiropractor's office (I had thrown out my back), only to realize that he had pooped. Awesome. I quickly changed his diaper in the car, left the smelly evidence securely wedged by my front tire (because no outdoor trash can was available and I chose not to share the scent with my chiropractor) and went in. But, we can't just discreetly walk in -- my son practically hops through the threshold with a loud belch. So loud, in fact, that the doctor laughs and then compliments him on his abilities. In the waiting room, an attractive college co-ed enters, and my little ladies' man decides that he wants to sit by her instead of his mommy. He crawls up onto the bench beside her, stares and says 'HIII' three times. Good thing he's cute. On the way out of the office (as I'm trying to keep his hands away from all of the natural supplement bottles he is trying to rip off of the shelves -- certain I look a trite more disheveled and exasperated than I did upon our arrival) he is loudly quacking -- yes, like a duck -- because he happened to see a picture of one (who else besides a child can practice animal impressions in public places?). The waiting room is full, and he makes a point to show off his quacking to each and every person before yelling a hearty 'BYE BYE' as we walk out the door. When we finally reach my car, I remember that there is a diaper full of crap that has been sitting out in the hot sun, that now has to ride with us in the car until I can find a trash can for disposal (Dear Sonic employees: You're welcome).
I guess the reason that I find all of his antics so funny, is because I try to picture the reactions I would get if I did the same thing. I mean, if I quacked my way out of a doctor's office, I'm fairly certain that I would be involuntarily evaluated.
Right now we are fighting a battle against throwing. If it will fit in his hand, he will throw it. I even received a handful of spaghetti right in the face (thank God his hands are small). When he is finished eating, instead of telling us he is 'all done' (which we have tried and tried again to teach him to do), he immediately begins throwing food -- much to the delight of our mutt, Daisy. When I retrieve him from our gym's daycare he screams 'MOMMY' which is promptly followed by the pitching of whatever is in his hands. Recently my husband was delivering a post-timeout lecture about how 'we don't throw food, we eat food and it makes Mommy and Daddy sad when we throw food'. I peeked around the corner to watch the encounter, only to see him looking intently into my husband's eyes with the most serious look on his face -- all while running in place. I almost choked on my own spit and peed my pants because I was laughing so hard.
Now imagine yourself getting a lecture from your boss, and deciding that that very moment was the best time for a quick stationary jog. There's a plus side to being little -- and that plus side is called spontaneity.
Our little mini human has also learned the art of being stubborn (I don't know where he gets it). He will dig in his heels until it hurts before doing something (or, more likely, saying something) he doesn't want to do. For example, he will repeat (or at least try his darnedest) anything you tell him to, but for some reason he will not say 'love you'. Tonight, as per our usual bedtime routine, I read him three books, sang four songs, and said prayers (which includes him repeating, in two-word sections, the 'Now I lay me down to sleep' prayer). This is part of our exchange:
Me: I love you, buddy. Say 'love you'.
K: Night night.
Me: No, say 'love you'.
Me: Say 'love'.
Me: Say 'you'.
Me: Say 'love you'.
Me: No, say 'love you'
What's funny about this is that when he says 'Jayhawk', he tucks his chin way down into his chest and bellows the word in a very deep man voice. Although my husband also always tries to get him to say 'love you', I think it makes him happier (and quite proud of me) that our son can say 'Rock Chalk', 'Jayhawk', and 'KU'.
I wouldn't trade any of these funny (and sometimes irritating) moments for anything in the world. Being a stay at home mommy isn't always all rainbows and butterflies, but it is the best, most important (and most demanding) job I have ever had. I love that my son has a sense of humor and that he loves being downright silly. He laughs when I break out in random dance steps (although, someday, this might really embarrass him), and he turns my piano solos into duets. He is the reason I fall into bed exhausted each night -- yet often lay awake, plagued with mommy-worry. For the girl who never wanted kids, I have found myself downright smitten with this sweet little boy.
Thank you for keeping me In Good Company.