A smattering of conversations and “goings on” in the life of a three year old – and his parents.
I was preparing yet another gourmet dinner, with Henry observing and making sure not to miss any opportunities to “help.” As I carefully carved our rotisserie chicken from Costco (was I the last person on the planet to discover this dinner gem? And if you know something bad about them, please don’t ruin it for me…) Henry was looking thoughtfully at the bird. I began to worry that this was too much “real bird” for him to see. Yes, I realize the irony of this, but he is only three.
But worry no more, I think he has things figured out.
“Did someone who works at Costco shoot that bird?”
Henry has added a hint of “ebonics” to his vocabulary. Not that there’s anything wrong with ebonics per-say, but we don’t listen to rap, and I’m pretty sure that Montessori encourages proper grammar use. Never the less, we’ve heard plenty of comments like these lately:
“But mom, you gotsta do it like this!” (You know, you “gotsta” pour the juice like this, or you “gotsta” play the game this way.)
And my personal favorite:
“Wassup my broth-uh!?” (A common greeting bestowed upon Charlie.)
While driving around town.
“Mom, why is that school bus short?”
Gasp! Brief moment of panic on my part. Why in the world did he notice the short bus of all things? The short bus! More panic. We haven’t talked with Henry about Down syndrome, or that some may see Charlie as “different.” It just hasn’t been relevant. Charlie’s simply Henry’s brother – differences or not. Should I have had this conversation with him earlier?
“Why do some kids ride on the short bus? Why don’t they ride the big bus? Who gets to ride on the big bus?”
Still no response from me. I’m not ready for this conversation. Still thinking…Hey, Libby, here’s an idea – maybe he’s just making an observation about buses. Some are short and others are bigger. Duh.
“Henry, some kids ride to school on the big bus and others ride the shorter bus to school.”
Ever since Henry was born, I’ve been compiling a list (in my head until now) of things that “I swore I would never do and/or say when I had kids.” And then low and behold I had kids and you guessed it – I’ve had to eat many of own my words and things I swore I would never do. (You know, like going to see Elmo Live. Or smugly thinking that our son would never melt down in a restaurant. Or doing something that sounds totally lame, but in all reality, is a blast in your kid-filled world.)
Well one of those things (thanks to Santa) is playing air hockey. Sure I envisioned playing a few games with Henry’s new toy. But the rest of the time I assumed he would play with friends or quietly by himself. (My dream, OK?)
Never would I have imagined that Alex or I would play with Henry for a brief minute or two before telling him it was his turn to be the “judge” while mom and dad played out a best two-out-of-three tournament. A very heated and intense tournament at that. There were lego trophy’s at stake. And while Alex may be in the lead, I think it’s important to note that all of the games have been very close.