Twinkle
I’ve just spent five days as Mr. Mom. It was exhausting, frustrating, and absolutely fantastic. I have way too much to do to properly recount the past week. Two quick anecdotes, though, just to remind myself of them later.
One night, we went to dinner with my friend G-Rob. Somehow the subject of komodo dragons came up. G-Rob, ever the instigator, set to work on convincing the boy that there was a komodo dragon named Dave living in our garage under the lawn mower.
“Stop telling me a whopper,” my son protested. G-Rob did not relent. As we left the restaurant, G-Rob taught my son to high-step to avoid getting his foot eaten.
As we climbed in the car to drive away, my son looked up and said, “Mr. G-Rob was joking me, right, Daddy?” I assured the boy that Mr. G-Rob was, in fact, joking him.
Still, as we walked in through the garage, my son stayed as far from the lawn mower as he could.
Another night, we were driving home from dinner with BadBlood and his son. It was pretty clear I wasn’t happy with the boy’s behavior. Unprompted, my son asked quietly from the back seat, “If I have a special song for you, will that make you happy?”
And then he sang “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” all the way through…twice. The second time, I actually started to get a little sappy. His voice was sweet, clear, and perfect.
“Are you happy now, Daddy?”
“Yes, I am buddy.”
That is sweet – aren’t they funny sometimes? They just want you to be happy. When we left the airport after dropping DrChako off, I was obviously crying . . . but 20 minutes later, I was more composed when we got home, and my littlest one patted me and said “Are you happier now?”
Someday, D will turn 8 and you’ll forget all about when he was 3. And you’ll love him even more.
Sounds like it’s time to buy your son a toy komodo dragon so he can have a littl fun with G-Rob out in the garage.
As strange and ornery as kids can be, that sweetness makes up for a million sins, doesn’t it? My boy is 11 now and still throws me for a loop with some particularly poignant thought or gesture. But I disagree with BadBlood — you don’t forget all about when a kid is 3 or 8 or really any other age because there’s always a glimmer of it in their eyes and always a huge shining part of it in your heart.
I am certain God programmed kids in such a way as to be super cute and sweet in order to take the edge off their “flip sides.”
My kids often pull that stuff (albeit sincerely) just in the nick of time. That’s when I promise them that I’ll keep them one more day after all.
Da Goddess,
What I meant was you forget about how hard it can be to take care of younger kids vs. older. As they get older, the fun factor greatly increases, while the have-to-care-for factor greatly decreases. I meant Otis would forget about how hard it “was” and focus on how fun it “is.”