Yes, my son did throw a football into the kitchen–he was trying to get it on top of the refrigerator–while I was loading glasses into the dishwasher.
Yes, that did result in two broken glasses and a gash on the top of my finger that probably could have used a stitch or two.
Yes, this is the result of the curse Mama often repeated when she was pregnant with 3B: If it’s a boy, I hope he’s just like you.
I told her she should talk to my Mom before she uttered those words, but she ignored me and kept on saying it. So now, in addition to my other self-inflicted scars, I’ll have a beaut on the back of my middle finger, courtesy of my son.
If you want to know what I think of that, I’ll hold it up for you to see for yourself.
The good news, however, is that 3B got half of his genetic material from Mama, which means that he’s whip smart. This Wednesday, they were in his room, playing with the foam letters that used to be in the bath to stick on the wall, but which are now scattered around our house because…well, just because.
Mama came out and said that 3B had picked up the “o” and said, “‘O’ says ‘uh.'” (Thank you, Leapfrog.) Then he said, “If I had two ‘f’s,’ I could spell ‘off.'” He then did the same thing with the letter “d” and the word “dog.”
Yeah, that’s all Mama’s side of the family, there.
It’s been coming for awhile now. Earlier in the week he sounded out “stranger,” “gallop” and the ever-popular “no.” Actually, he reads “no” all the time on signs. Like his parents, he only obeys it when it suits him.
My favorite is when he reads a sign that says something like “No Parking” and tells me that it says “No, Daddy, you cannot do that.” However, his new ability to read will mean that I have to stop making up sign messages too, like the one in the doctor’s office that says “No Screaming,” which also happens to say “No Hitting” and “No Spitting.”
But we got a new tool on this front from Grammy, when she took 3B to the supermarket with Mama. 3B was being…well…a three year old, when Grammy very seriously told him that there are ghouls that live in the basement of the store that eat the toes of kids who don’t behave. Apparently, 3B settled right down after that.
She let us know that those ghouls live in the basements of many stores–Home Depot, CVS, BJ’s, and so on.
And who am I to argue with Grammy?