This summer, so far, has been both fun and luxurious in that I've allowed my Type A scheduling self to slow down enough some days that I'm not constantly checking the wall calendar that I normally live and die by. (I know I've just ended a sentence with a preposition, peeps, but "by which I normally live and die" just didn't do it for me.)
This summer has also been long in that really great way where you feel like you've already gotten to spend so much time getting relaxed and refreshed for the upcoming months, yet you still have a few weeks of summer fun left to look forward to. (Oops, I did it again. #britney)
Our boys have taken to sneaking into our bed in the middle of the night, and although we'll have to get them out of the habit when school starts up again to ensure that we all get a good night's sleep, right now, I'm enjoying the hell out of it. It won't last forever, you see, and so I'm going to snuggle with them (read: tell them to stop giggling and talking and SHUT THE HELL UP, please, so Mommy can get some sleep) while I can.
My 6-year-old came in this morning around 7:20 AM. I've been allowing myself a few days here and there to sleep in, and today was one of them. I remember fumbling for my phone on the nightstand and blindly handing it to him, telling him, "I'll let you play on my phone if you let me sleep for another half hour."
He was all too happy to agree; phone time is precious around here, especially as his younger brother wasn't yet awake to fight with him over it, and he could play in peace.
When I finally awoke fully at 8:05 AM, my son, sitting up next to me, looked away from the phone so that he could give me a soft smile, one of amused appreciation for another person that went way beyond his 6 years.
"You were snoring," he said, and then shifted his attention back to the phone.
"Was I?" I laughed.
"Yeah," he said, not looking up from his game. "But it wasn't loud. It wasn't, like, a normal snore."
"Oh," I said. "Okay."
"It was different. Quieter, maybe. Because there's something special about you, Mom."
He's observant; he's constantly hearing people use phrases and then trying to fit them into his own daily life. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Last week, he was all about the normally sarcastic "Yeah, RIGHT," and he just couldn't seem to get it right.
"We're going to go get ice cream after dinner!" my husband announced with a flourish one evening.
"Yeah, RIGHT," my son said, all of the proper snide affectation in the proper places.
"Seriously," my husband said, shooting me a quizzical glance over my son's shoulder, "we really are going to get ice cream."
"Yeah, RIGHT," my son repeated, a full smirk now spread across his face.
"I don't understand," my husband admitted, furrowing his brow as he looked at me again. "Is it that he doesn't believe we're really going to get ice cream?"
I shook my head, smiling at my husband's confusion. "It's that he was hanging out with his 11-year-old cousin all last week and hasn't quite figured out how to use the phrase."
Practice makes perfect, though, and all we've heard over the past few days is, "Yeah, RIGHT." The trouble is, my son thinks he's wholeheartedly agreeing--with enthusiasm!--with what the speaker is saying, while on the outside, he looks and sounds like a little asshole. It's kind of hilarious, actually, especially as his younger brother is starting to parrot him, also using it in all the wrong places.
And I know, you guys, I know I should be encouraging him to use more of the sweet phrases that he's heard like "There's something special about you, kid," but I can't help it. I love seeing people's confused reactions when he misuses "Yeah, RIGHT" in any and all given situations:
-Oh, so you'll be in first grade next year, big guy?
-[Looking in my direction] Oh, so he's not? Or he is?
Ice cream truck driver: You know what, you're such a great customer that this one, today, is on me!
My son: Yeah, RIGHT.
Ice cream truck driver, looking in my direction: Oh, so he wants you to pay for it?
Me: Yeah, RIGHT.
His aunt: It's been so good to see you, buddy. Have you enjoyed spending time with your cousins?
My son: Yeah, RIGHT.
His aunt, looking in my direction: So he hates us?
One of these days, he's going to get it right. And I'll be sad.