This week his preschool took a field trip to Hy Vee, and then to DQ. (Lucky kiddos.) “What kind of ice cream did you have?” I asked. “Twawkwet,” he said.
His lack of “r”‘s is pretty stinking cute, but he doesn’t recognize the difference between what he says and what we say…nor does he appreciate having it pointed out. “Mommy, can you open the doy?” he asked.
“Open the doy?” I repeated, smiling.
“No! Open the doy,” he said firmly. “Stop it, Mommy!”
The night before Halloween, we were looking for his tool belt to complete his Bob the Builder costume for Halloween. That tool belt is one of those items that is so well-loved that it often vanishes completely for long stretches of time. So while Christian taught piano and I did dishes, chatting intermittently with the student’s mother, I sent the boys to pull their Halloween costumes together. “Where’s your tool belt, Nicholas?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, after walking in circles around the living room (last known whereabouts of the tool belt) for about two seconds. “Maybe Bwandon’s mom is sitting on it.”
Speaking of adorable mispronunciations, he asks me regularly for “macanoni” for lunch.
How he processes babies is just hilarious. For months, when I said Michael was hungry, he would race to give me the Boppy. Lately, as the main-floor Boppy has languished unused, he instead plops down on the floor and puts it around his belly. “Mommy I gonna nuss the baby,” he says. I remembered this a moment ago because he was sitting in the living room playing with a miniature pumpkin he painted bright blue at school today. He was pretending it was a baby in his tummy. He was cooing to it and calling it a “cute baby.” And telling me he was about to have it cut out of his belly. (Ah, the legacy of C sections…)
Alex and Nicholas love to play together. Nicholas is still in that starry-eyed stage where he doesn’t care, he’s willing to be bossed around as long as Big Brother lets him play. He seems completely oblivious to things like winning and losing. “I have a five,” Nicholas says in the middle of Crazy 8.
“Don’t tell me your cards, Nicholas.”
“But I have a five.”
“Stop showing me your card!” Alex forcibly turns Nicholas’ hand around so he’s not baring his soul to his competitor.
“Five. Five. Wight heew.” He turns it around to show me, on the other side of the kitchen, instead. “See? Five.”
“NICK! A! LIS! STOP! SHOWING! ME! YOUR! CARDS!”
“Five,” Nicholas says.
Then there’s the newfound awareness of stalling at bedtime. “But Mommy I need a dwink,” he says when I tell him to lie down.
We get a drink. “Get in bed now,” I say.
“But I want a book.”
“We already read a book. Get in bed.”
He hops in bed, lies down, lets me hug and kiss him, and as I turn away he pitches his voice upward. “But maybe I gonna frow up,” he says.
We now return you to your regular (election) programming.