Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Trashy Shorts: On Having Kids

My 3-year-old, who has grown out of taking naps, sometimes still needs naps. 

However, he sweet-talks the babysitter into letting him stay up and play with all of the other growing-out-of-naps charges at her house during the afternoon.  While I don’t mind at all because I’d hate for him to be forced upstairs to bed while hearing all of the other kids having a grand old time, when I get him back at about 4:15, on some days (especially toward the end of the week), he is tired.

One evening last week he fell asleep at 5:30 PM, so of course by 8:30 PM he was wide awake…at which point he started talking…and kept talking.  He talked for—literally—one hour straight, mostly about cake. 

Side note:  At birthday parties, people will always comment on what a good eater he is, and my husband and I will share a look and explain that sure he is—if it’s a noodle or a cupcake.  I have personally watched a side of green beans sit on his dinner plate for 2 hours just waiting to be eaten.  And they do get eaten, but only because my boy knows that if they aren’t, he will not get a bedtime snack.

At a birthday party last summer, my son kept asking about the cake, which hadn’t been brought out yet.  “Where is Ella’s cake?” he kept saying.  “When will we get to eat cake?” 

Finally, the parents, who had baked cupcakes instead, replied, “Ella doesn’t have a cake, actually.” 

My son was thoroughly confused, and he furrowed his brow and raised his hands up into a shrug.  “Well if Ella don’t have a cake," he declared, "then Ella don’t have a birthday."

So he loves cake.  And that night last week, he talked about it for an hour.

Finally my husband, who is 85 and goes to bed at about 4:30 PM each evening, had had enough.  He called out from our bedroom, telling our son to be quiet.

A few minutes later, my 3-year-old did, in fact, take a break from his monologue on cake in order to give a huge stage whisper from the bathroom down the hall.  “MOMMY!” he whisper-shouted.  “Daddy said to be quiet, but can you wipe my butt?”

I looked into the bathroom, where my 3-year-old was sitting on the toilet, wide-eyed and leaning all the way forward in an attempt to make his loud whisper carry a little further down the hall so that I would hear him and come running with the wipes.

I laughed, then laughed even harder when I heard my grumpy-ass husband let loose a huge chuckle from our bedroom.

I love having kids.

1 comment:

  1. OMGOSHHHH, lolllllllllll
    I really miss those days!!!! FABULOUS. x