Vignettes

Robert has the door-opening thing mastered by now. Bright and early this morning, he let himself into our bedroom, blanket and Frog in tow. Swinging Frog up and down, he marched into bed shouting: "ruff! Ruff!"

"What?!" I laughed, "frogs don't bark! They croak!"

"Oh," said Robert. Reconsidering, he cried out: "Ribbih! Ribbih! Frog croak-keen now!"

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Sitting next to me, snuggled in his blanket, Robert decided that only one thing was missing from this idyllic scene: "Mommy? Singing," he ordered. "What should I sing?" I asked. Edward suggested a song on his brother's behalf: "Sing about 'go and do,' Momsters!" "Only if you sing with me," I replied.

Edward and I sang the song's chorus together: "I will go; I will do the thing the Lord commands! I know the Lord provides a way; he wants me to obey!"

I'm not notably fond of the song overall -- it seems a sneaky way to suggest to children that obedience for its own sake is preferable to becoming ethical, good human beings who accept personal responsibility for their own moral choices: but perhaps I'm overthinking the effect of a children's song on a three-year-old? -- however, I feel an obligation to sing this song to Edward ever since I first heard him singing it. After listening to it once or twice on the cd he got from his Primary Leaders, Edward surprised me a few days ago by singing: "I will go; I will not do the thing my mom commands!"

Moral scruples with religious, obedience-pushing agendas be hanged: I'm not about to let that version of the song be the one he remembers!

Teenagers. They get younger every year.

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Robert, not liking the look of his breakfast, didn't touch a bite. When I offered to help him, he vehemently shook his head and offered his excuses: "I sick."

"You're sick? Poor Floof."

"And tired," the bright-eyed Snoofler added, just to make a point.

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Joseph, looking for a way to occupy Edward while putting on his shoes for preschool, asked: "Where's Robert?" "There he is!" Edward responded, at the same time that Robert cried out: "Hee-yer!"

"Where's Edward?" Joseph asked. "Dere!" Shouted Robert.
"Where's Mommy?" Was the next question. Both boys pointed to where I was sitting: "There!" "Dere!"

Robert, not one to leave anybody out, ran to Edward's room where the wheeled toys are kept: "An dere's cooter [scooter]! An dere's mo-cycle!"

Joseph laughed. "Well, I guess they're the next members of the family."

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"Here, Robert," Edward offered his brother one of the two long plastic poles he had fished out from the pantry. "Let's have a fight."

I bent down and looked the Floofs in the eye: "You may play with the poles, Sirs, but you need to be very careful not to hurt each other. Got it?"

"Yes," they chorused, and proceeded to swing their poles around gigglingly. Apparently, however, I was not  specific enough as to whom they shouldn't be hurting. Moments later, Edward let out a wail of pain. I rushed to see what was wrong, and found him clutching the side of his head. "I hurt myself! I hurt myself!"

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Robert, bouncing on my bed just before his nap: "Gro-shee shoppinnnng! Gro-shee shoppinnnng! Gro-shee shoppinnnng!"

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Edward looked up from playing on his beloved bench. "Mommy?" he asked. I looked at him: "What's up, Floofs?"
"No."
"No?"
"No." He went back to playing.

I guess that's what happens when I spend every day with a three-year old. I use the word "no" so often that it becomes conversational parlance.

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I noticed that Robert made it through his nap without wetting his diaper. "Should we get you on the potty? I asked the groggy toddler. "Yes," he agreed.

Seated on the throne, he got out a trickle: "I got it! I got it!" he announced with glee.

Ah! Yes you did, my boy. Yes you did.

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Dinnertime. Robert was still playing coy with his eating. (Isn't one child who refuses to eat enough? Sigh.) "Potty!" He demanded. Though I was pretty sure that this was a getting-out-of-his-booster-seat ploy, I wasn't about to let up on our progress on the potty-training front.

I rushed him to the potty, and set him down. He giggled in triumph for a while before beginning his victory cry: "Gro-shee shopping! Gro-shee shopping! Gro-shee shoppinnnng!"