Some conversations are just too special, odd and funny not to document in some fashion.
Since at some point down the line I will dig out these weekly ramblings for a walk down memory lane, I figure this is the best avenue for me to document it.
Here are a few examples of a few recent chats that I hope to remember years from now:
While I was doing something in the kitchen the other morning, I heard Beckett grab something nearby off the counter and sprint upstairs to his room. He came back down a couple minutes later and stood quietly before his mom with an opened bag of gummy turtles. The ensuring conversation went something like this.
Pam: Where did you get that?
Beckett: Out of a goodie bag from Reagan’s birthday on the counter.
Pam: I don’t want you having sugar so early in the morning, but wait how did you get that open.
Beckett: Really, mommy? I went up to my room, used my scissors from my desk, put them back and cut it open.
Pam: Well, I am proud of you for doing that, but it’s only 7 in the morning.
Beckett: Really, mommy? Let’s talk about this, how about we make a deal and I have two gummies now with my breakfast and then the rest at lunchtime?
I don’t know whatever came of that mediation attempt.
Another recent conversation, albeit one-sided because Carson is not speaking yet, apparently tickled Beckett.
Potty training has been stepped up into high gear for Carson and with it has come some trying moments with the little fella in the bathroom.
Me: Carson, stopping sticking your hand in the toilet.
Me: Why are you sticking your hand in there?
Me: Stop, that’s dirty, stop, you can’t do that.
Me: Why? No, you have to stop. We don’t play in here.
Beckett: [Barging into the bathroom] Daddy, it’s clear to me Carson is not listening. Just make him go outside with the dogs.
Me: I can’t do that to him, but yes he is definitely not listening one bit and I know he hears me.
Beckett: But you really do want to put him outside, don’t you? It’s okay it can be our secret. I won’t tell anyone, just do it [running back into the other room].
Carson just shook his head intensely while pointing to the doors and signing “please.”
There can be no predicting what will come out of a child’s mouth and put one with a bunch of others and the randomness is only heightened.
I have found that when kids think they are alone they like to hatch little schemes. Beckett is a master of that and he often gets Carson in trouble as a result.
Since he gets chided when he tells Carson to do something he is not supposed to do, what Beckett does now is tell him not to do something. It goes like this.
Beckett: Carson, don’t you dare scream and chase me in the house.
Carson: [he screams and chases him in the house]
Beckett: Carson, Carson, please, please do not throw that at the television.
Carson: [throws whatever it is at the television]
Then when Beckett gets reprimanded, he is fond of saying, “I didn’t do anything.” The thing is he can’t even say it with a straight face because he knows.
Carson has a way of getting his feelings across in non-verbal ways.
The other night at bedtime I was on the floor with him reading books (he won’t allow us to read to him in bed, for some reason). Apparently, he didn’t like the way I was reading or was bored or just had some more goofiness to get out of his system because he simply sat his rear directly on my head.
With his 50-pound fanny firmly planted, he took the time from laughing hysterically to sign for “more” and since it was bedtime I just went along with it. He got a huge kick out of me reading to him while he sat on me.
There is a television show on Sprout that gives us a little time to do some things around the house. Sorry to say, yes, there are times when we need the TV to bail us out and give us a little reprieve.
Subsequently, Calliou has become our “go to” at times. I had a chat with Beckett about it that went something like the following.
Me: Calliou is a nice boy, right?
Beckett: Yeah he is really nice to everyone and very polite, but he’s also a little bit whiny.
Me: That’s just how he talks.
Beckett: It just seems kind of annoying and wimpy.
Me: [Refusing to admit that he was spot on with his conclusion] He really is so nice and polite, though.
Beckett: I am nice and polite, but I am not wimpy. Take a look at this and I didn’t even cry [pointing to a golf ball sized bruise on his leg].
I then spent five minutes trying to extract information on how that came about without any luck.