I am worried about Red…so very, very worried. Not because he
is currently running around the house in his underwear. I can see how you might
think that would trouble me, but you would be wrong. No, I am worried because
he was able to convince me this was a good idea. Sometimes he makes so much
darn sense out of utter nonsense that I fear, without the proper care and
feeding, he is going to grow up to be a shyster. You know, like one of those
guys who cozies up to nice old ladies and then removes them of their lifesavings.
I don’t claim to know everything about this mothering thing, but it seems like
that would be a bad outcome.
The other day Husband had done a sweep of the house and
filled a bag with crap to return to the library. Red rummaged around and pulled
out a DVD called “Lots & Lots of Fire Trucks.” (If you have not seen it,
you really should check it out. There are a lot of fire trucks in it. Also, it
was produced somewhere in the 80’s. Need I say more?) “I love this DVD!”
exclaimed Red. Then his face fell when he realized it was in the bag to be
returned. “Why is THIS going back?” Red demanded.
“I know you love it. That is how we ended up with two copies.
We are going to take one copy back and you can watch the other copy,” I said. I
thought I made a pretty compelling case. I really should know better by now. Red’s
only response was to furrow his eyebrows at me. I knew full well that his
father had lost the battle while in the library, but I still attempted to
explain. “You can only watch one at a
time. We do not need two of them.”
“Two is better than one.”
Huh.
Well, he got me there.
And it isn’t just what he says, it is the WAY he says it
that really gets ya. Take the evening I was reading him stories before bed. He
was snuggled up against me, warm and cozy. All those great mothering hormones
were coursing through me. When I was good and high on three-year-old boy
sweetness he said, “I want a giraffe.”
“A giraffe, huh?” I replied, knowing I had to win this one.
We cannot afford to feed a giraffe. “That
sounds like fun, but where would it sleep?”
“On my bottom bunk,” he said.
“Hmmm…I don’t know about that…I don’t think a giraffe could
climb the stairs—”
“I will take SUCH good care of it. I will feed it and walk
it and pet it.”
“Well, it does sound like you know that pets are a big
responsibility…”
“I will even let my brother pet it.”
“Aww, that is so sweet.”
“And I will let my sister pet it.”
“Oh, you are such a sweet boy!”
See that? See how he did that? This was a brilliantly
executed plan. He got me with my guard down. Then he smacked me upside the head
with taking responsibility and brotherly love. I WANTED to give him a giraffe. If he had me
seriously considering a pet giraffe, can you imagine how many cupcakes he has
convinced me to let him eat today? Let’s just say more than I should have given
him, but just this side of less than would call for a trip to the ER.
So, why is Red running around in his underpants? Because he was
putting on pants and got distracted. Why am I happy? Because he hates to wear
pants. Every day for the past couple of months there has been a battle because
he wants to wear shorts. Then he came up with the idea that he can wear shorts
at home then change into pants before he leaves the house. Brilliant! It is now
common to hear “Do I have to put pants on?” asked in our house several times a
day. I am so happy that he is going out into the world dressed for the weather
that I do not even care that he drops trou as soon as he gets to the door. You
read that correctly. I am happy that my child moons the neighborhood multiple
times each day. That is the power Red.
Lock up your daughters and elderly. None of us are safe.