My wife and I have an amazing little ball of energy, easily the brightest, most incredible joy in our lives. Most days. Absolutely, positively….most days.
My Son, Nate, is 3 and a half now, and thankfully, he’s got his mother’s brains! But then, dear god, he’s got his mother’s brains! For those of you that don’t know my wife — she’s also amazing. And Smart. Very smart. You can see that same light n my son’s eyes, right before he does something terrible. I was going to say “evil”, but really, when they are this age, evil is loosely defined.
Mostly, toddlers are just having fun without the benefit (or constraint) of a moral compass – something I sure as hell would like to be able to do from time to time. But every once in a while Nate (my 3-year-old) will do something that defies all previous experience. And I’ve been told by parents that I trust that while my experience seems awkward and unique, it’s not. By any means.
My Son goes through weekly phases: wearing socks on his hands (Sockey-hands!), stealing his shoes and putting them back on after we go to bed (stinky feet!), turning every mundane and non-hostile object into a “gun” (I shoot mommy and daddy!), watching me pee much too intently, then demanding to be the one that flushes the toilet (“I wanna do it!).
Recently he’s decided that his crib is no place for him to sleep. He transitioned to sneaking into our bed in the middle of the night while we were asleep — at first anyway. Soon that turned into just heading for our bed form his own. But of course, when we’re not in it, he doesn’t want to be alone in it.
Now he wants to sleep on the floor, next to me, as I am writing this. Of course, he needs for the light to be on in the bedroom entrance where he sleeps, and off over my head where I’m typing. He’s also — NOT sleeping – while laying in the floor. It’s actually becoming more of an extended play-with-daddy thing where he giggles, smiles, and generally does all the cute things 3-year-olds do that keeps us from being “too” angry with them.
Along with this is the “Guess What, Daddy?” game in which, yep, I guess what, and he hits me in the face with a random article of clothing. I never actually know where it comes to form, the boy could be standing there stark naked, but as soon as he says “Guess what, Daddy?” he’s armed with a Paw Patrol cotton PJ bottom, and taking aim!
And I want to be mad with him, or concerned with the “Shoot Mommy and Daddy” game, or the general “why the Hell don’t you sleep?” phenomenon, but then I’d also have to be very concerned about “Why don’t you eat, you know, food?” and “When exactly are you gonna stop wearing diapers?” — Yeah, 3 1/2 and still in diapers. Actually, that’s a bigger problem because he can’t move up in daycare until he’s potty trained. But hey, that’s another weekend post about not using the potty and 12 changes of clothes because…you know…he’s a boy.
Right now (I’ve moved downstairs to write) I hear the patter of Godzilla feet on my ceiling as the Lack-O-Sleep monster moves form roo to room trying to find us and hanging out on the stairs until we come up and yell at him. And that’s just today, for the most part. Tomorrow he may go back to wearing underwear on his head or randomly decided he hates fruit snacks.
…long way of saying “and we’re ready to try for kid number 2…”