Cold Spaghetti

Will is on a roll, yammering on and on in the backseat about swimming in the “Nindianic Ocean,” (I’m told it’s in the Arctic), which is filled with whales that eat all people (“both boys AND girls”), has dangerous seals that bite, and also(!) many, MANY penguins.

Kate tries to periodically chime in with key words, but even she is forced silent in the face of Will’s unending monologue.

I turn to Paul with a glance of surrender.  There is no other choice but to let the words pour from the boy while we sit defenseless.  Meanwhile, Will has begun to run a new tangent about “injas” who live in the country of “Chinese”.  In case you were wondering, they were trained by knights in the 1870s.  I stifle a laugh and sigh.

Me: “And here we are, without the voice recorder, unable to capture all of this.”

Paul: “It wouldn’t help.  Our son is Quantum Mechanical.”

M: “Quantum Mechanical?  How is one Quantum Mechanical, exactly?”

P: “He runs by the rules of Quantum Mechanics.”

M: (not following) “He’s a cat in a box?”

P: “Meaning that you can only know his velocity or his position.”

M: “So, we could record his position…”

P: “But would then loose the ability to see where he is going.”

M: “In other words…”

P: “It is impossible to understand what he is currently going on about and see where it is going at the same time.”

M: “Yup.  That pretty much sums it up.”

Then, I think, I said something about the total hotness of a science geek.  Because nothing speaks to a woman like knowledge of quantam mechanics.

Paul and I have been married for almost 8 years and in that time, we have developed an excellent relationship based on great communication. For example, this afternoon, I heard Paul say to me: WE HAVE A WORKING LAUNDRY. TOMORROW, I WILL MAKE DINNER FOR NEXT WEEK AND PUT THE KIDS TO BED.

And it’s part true. He said those words. I just didn’t hear what was in between them: WE don’t HAVE hot water in the back, but we are close to having A WORKING LAUNDRY. I need to be under the house working on it all day TOMORROW, so I can’t handle WILL with me in the back. Also, I’ll need you to MAKE ahead some DINNER FOR NEXT WEEK when you have your board meetings. Remember that I’m working tonight AND you’ll be alone with the kids. I’m sorry that I can’t help you PUT THE KIDS TO BED.

This may explain why he reminded me repeatedly that he needed to go to work when I insisted he put Kate to bed. He’s a very good sport.

Similarly, when I told Paul about us having a naked salad with no dressing and chicken breasts for dinner, I’m pretty sure he only heard the words “NAKED” and “BREASTS,” which is maybe why he looked disappointed when he came in for dinner.

So maybe it stands to reason that our children do not hear anything that we say to them. Perhaps hearing the words people say takes the same kind of time and practice required for something like learning to read or riding a bike. Until they develop those skills, maybe it’s unfair to hold them accountable for their actions. Maybe it’s not that they are choosing not to hear, but just absolutely cannot hear due to a completely underdeveloped skill not yet at maturity.

So when we tell Will, “Wash your hands and sit down for dinner,” maybe then it’s not that unreasonable that he would hear “DUMP OUT THREE MORE PUZZLES AND TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS.” Or when we ask him to “Help Kate put on her shoes,” he hears “GRAB KATE’S SHOES AND RUN AWAY AS FAST AS YOU CAN. THEN TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS.”

It could be a completely developmental issue. So we can stop beating our exasperated heads against the wall.

Now that Will is out of diapers, a whole new world has been introduced to us: KIDS IN UNDERPANTS.

Even with the choices of disposables, cloth, characters, and brand, diapers are collectively ambiguous, nameless, and generic. At least they seem that way compared to the fast-paced world of Underwear. Underwear is a serious business. Kids talk about their underwear with the same intensity that they discuss treats, toy, and trips to the zoo. They announce that they’re wearing it to strangers. Give the slightest hint of interest (or maybe even not) and chances are, that little guy or gal will flash some Dora, Spiderman, or Bob the Builder.

Last week, Will spent a Saturday back in Pull-Ups because they were BOB Pull-ups. The generic pirate undies, although good for “pirate days,” weren’t cutting it 24/7. In the pushover mindset of parents who are willing to do whatever it takes to solidify successful potty training, we found Bob Underwear. Will found the box of undies the moment he came home and he acted as if he’d just stumbled upon the world’s largest vat of ice cream, bouncing around the room with infectious joy. We couldn’t help but get excited, too, “Hooray, Bob Underwear for our Big Boy Will! We’re so proud of you!!” How silly was I to think that he would be able to resist the temptation of wearing them long enough for me to wash them? Unthinkable. But I held firm and insisted that they needed to be washed first.

As a side note, parents of preschoolers need to think — and think hard — on the things they insist to their children. Intense feeling about something may raise a level of interest in said child that is not anticipated. By insisting on clothes being washed before wearing, I impressed upon Will the importance of LAUNDRY. Which is why I keep opening the washer to find random dirty clothes (read: Will’s underpants) and a huge scoop of Tide tossed in with the freshly washed clothes. While having a front loader does give him better access, visiting my parents this weekend proved that top loading machines are no matter to our laundry-helping kid. Will is so enthusiastic about his Underwear that he even will help load the dryer to move things along.
Another Underwear issue:

Me: “Will, your Underwear is on backwards.”
Will: “No it’s not.”
Me: “The picture of Spiderman goes on your butt.”
Will: “No, IT DOESN’T. It goes in front so I can see it!”

Good darn point. Who are the pictures there for, anyway? Who and what are those Underpants manufacturers thinking about when they put the pictures on the backside?? Attention: manufacturers of children’s underpants! Pictures go on the front! Children’s underpants are made for the children who wear them, not those who might be looking at their underpant-clad behinds, as noted my brilliant, Underpant-wearing child.

It was Bud’s Broiler, not Port of Call, that cooked up Paul’s first hamburger in 16 years. Will, who has been asking for nothing but hamburger for 4 days straight, was in heaven. It was in this memorable moment, between dipping his burger bites into his little cup of red-eye, that Will turned to me and clearly asked:

“Mommy, d’you havea pee-nus?”

I blinked and cleared my throat, quickly looking to catch the eyes of fellow diners, glancing over with smiles. Is this a conversation that we want to get into now? Here?

“No, Will. Mommies and little girls do not have them. And remember,” switching to a loud whisper, “we talk about penises at home, right?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Pause. Another bite of burger goes in.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, Will?”

“Does Granna have a pee-nus?”

Will’s vocabulary, from most used (and articulate) to least:

1. Ma-ma (sometimes said non-stop for several minutes)

2. Uh-oh (also used in sequence over long periods of time)

3. Hi!

4. Da-da

5. Gato (“Ga-doh”) — as in “cat” in spanish.

6. Ah-ah-ah! (like the Count on Sesame Street)

7. Agua (“Ah-ga”) — as in “water” in spanish

8. Thank you (“ank u”) — this one is a stretch, but it’s there

Other fun sounds:

– zerbers

– raspberries

– hah-heh-heh (like heavy breathing, with him mouth wide open — he does this when he gets really happy)

– La-la-la (copying us when we sing – particularly when we sing “William’s Song”, which has many “la” sounds)

Story as told by Granna (Mom handed off Will at 7:30am after 2 hours of wrestling with a squirmy Will and went back to bed.)

Sesame Street came on the television this morning at breakfast. During the opening song of the show (“Sunny days…”) the Count comes past the screen and says “ah-ah-ah!” As if on queue, Will pops out his binky and parrots back, “ah-ah-ah!”

So precious that I almost wish I had been awake for it.