Sunday, October 5, 2014

The Awkward Adventures of my Four-Year-Old

Unfortunately, Little K seems to have inherited his mother’s ability to make any situation super awkward.  If you haven’t heart my “Tramping for Christ” story, stop what you are doing and click here.

Our abilities together as Team Awkward would be embarrassing, if I hadn’t long ago gotten over being surprised by the words that come out of my own mouth.  Some of his comments are innocent, and age-appropriate remarks.  But I’m pretty sure that his genetic personality is heavy on awkward.  Neither of us will ever lack entertaining stories to share. 

The Awkward Adventures of my Four-Year-Old

Because we all need reminders that all of those my kid would never things are exactly the things kids will do; some of my favorite anecdotes are following, in no particular order.
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There have been several times in a crowded market where someone has ignored Little K's greeting, which he will snottily follow up with, “I said HI.”  One time when he proudly belched at a volume that would have impressed even the most seasoned fraternity boy in a crowded check-out line.  And, more recently, also at the market, he loudly wondered why our clerk didn’t have very many teeth.  Ignoring clear shut up signals from Mr. B, he then asked the nice man if the Tooth Fairy had given him a lot of coins.
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Little K has a pretty low tolerance for people who annoy him – I can’t imagine where this trait comes from.  We were out running errands once and ran into an old co-worker of mine, who said, in an admittedly annoying voice that is usually used only by adults that don’t really know how to talk to kids, “LITTLE K!!  High five me!”  Little K sighed a super loud exaggerated sigh, rolled his eyes, and gave the guy an honest-to-God sympathy high five.
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A few weeks ago, he ran out of the bathroom, buck naked – because pajamas mean bedtime he was, I guess, preparing to conduct a nude strike on sleep.  Our recently rescued Labrador retriever, Ruby, is the most affectionately licky dog I have ever met.  So as imperfect timing would have it, Ruby was galumphing down the hallway just as Little K emerged from the bathroom.  Ruby gave Little K a run-by lick – right. on. the. crotch.  He yelled, “RUUUUBYYYYYYYY!  DON’T LICK MY WEINER!!!  MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!  RUBY RAN BY AND LICKED ME RIGHT ON THE WEINER!  BAD RUBY!!!”  I yelled at poor Ruby (who was hanging her head sadly at this point), told Little K to put his pajamas on like he was supposed to have done in the first place; and promptly said a quick prayer that he never decides to loudly discuss this in a restaurant; which is highly unlikely.  I’ll let you know how it goes when I have to explain this story to a well-meaning social worker.
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Last week, at the chiropractor, I was on the adjustment table when Little K looks at the very kind male doctor and said quite seriously, “Don’t spank her!”  You can imagine the awkward silence that followed.  Some situations just can’t be saved with more words.
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When I wake up in the morning, my hair looks like a lion’s mane.  After a particularly sleepless night, Little K saw me and said, “Woah!  You look like macock!”  “WHAT?!” I shrieked.  “You look like macock!”  “What are you talking about?”  “You know, like the birds on Rio.  Macocks.”  I might have corrected him if I hadn’t been too busy laughing.
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Knowing his tendency for awkward conversation, I had prepped him about how to respond to invitations from a particular kid at whose home he isn’t allowed to play.  I told him to simply say, “No, thank you,” and go on.  Within exactly two seconds the next time we saw him, this little boy looked at me with his sweet little eyes and asked if Little K could come over to play.  I told him, “Not today, but thanks for asking.”  
Little K looked at him and said, “Not any day.  Because you’re a climber.”  He said that.  With his mouth.  In front of the other boy’s mom.  Shit.  That wasn’t even part of the conversation we had!  I swear I never said anything about climbing, in fact I had kept my words as few as possible.
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Several months back, I took 
Little K to the CrossFit gym with me.  I had told him to go potty the very second we got there – he didn’t.  As I was in the middle of a super tough and grinding WOD, I heard, “MOOOOOOOOOOM!  I had a potty accident!”  You know those moments when you can’t really do anything but exhale really hard out of your nose?  It was one of those.  I told him to go clean himself up in the bathroom and I would be there in a moment to help him.  I was starting the last set of bench presses when I heard my name being said progressively louder by one of my gym-mates.  I sat up, looked over, and Little K was standing there, naked from the waist down.  I could have chosen to be proud that he doesn’t have body shame, but instead I cussed under my breath, took off my jacket, wrapped it around him like a skirt, zipped it, and tied the arms around his waist to keep it on.  Then I put my brand new North Face coat on the dirty gym floor, told him to sit down, and I finished my damn bench presses.  He rode home wearing long socks and tennis shoes, a water wicking wrap-skirt, a fleece hoodie, and a stocking cap.  And I forgot to take a picture.
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I suppose the point of these stories is to reassure you know that you are doing a good job.  Because kids are weird and they say and do crazy things.  And all we can do is laugh those deep and pure belly laughs that will bring tears to our eyes.

The Awkward Adventures of my Four-Year-Old


Thank you, fellow parents, for keeping me In Good Company.




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