Archive for June, 2015

The officiant at rest.

Yesterday, the Boo wanted to know what getting married meant. I told him that when you love someone very much, you might want to stay with them forever. And if you do, you can ask them if they want to marry you. And if they say yes, you get married. 

This morning, he said he wanted to marry me. 

I said yes, and then we set about finding an officiant. He asked his stuffed tiger, but it said no. Fortunately, the hippo he asked next agreed to perform the ceremony. 

After some very brief vows, the hippo declared us to be married. Then the Boo said, “Now we need to get all married up!” As it turns out, that means that you exchange lots of kisses on various part of your faces. But the kisses only count as kisses if you pop your mouth open really wide like a fish after you give them. 

Shortly after that, he said it was time to get unmarried. We achieved this by taking the kisses off with a special sort of drill. He said it wouldn’t hurt. It didn’t, maybe because I couldn’t even see the drill. 

I negotiated to keep one kiss. 

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We are lucky to have a theater-style circus where we live. This year, we took the Boo for the first time — they have an hour-long kids’ show. There were trained cats, an acrobatic troupe doing human pyramids and using each other as jump ropes, a stunning trapeze duo, and of course a high-wire act. 

My mother and I gasped and exclaimed. The kiddo sat on our laps (he had woken up early) and gazed at everything. Occasionally he would ask questions about the set, the lights, or the action in the ring.

When the Boo woke up from his nap, I asked him if he liked the circus. He said yes. I asked what he liked best about it. 

“Cotton candy.” <huge smile>

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  You have an imaginary friend. His name is the same as Daddy’s and he seems to be very similar to you, though sometimes he is potty trained and sometimes not. 

You are fond of telling us when other kids are violating some rule or safety guideline. 

You are in the process of dropping your afternoon nap. We know this because when you sleep for longer than an hour you struggle to fall asleep at night and then wake up early. The good news: when your nap is an hour or less, you sleep for 10-11 hours at night. 

You still refuse most veggies and all meat and dairy products, though you did eat most of a snow pea we grew on the deck. 

You are tall enough to turn lights on and off. 

You still adore playing with water and containers on the deck, even in 90-plus temps. 

You are completely potty trained when awake, and wake up dry from naps about 20% of the time. We don’t even have to haul the seat insert with us when we leave the house anymore. 

You asked what a gun is. You were told it’s a very noisy thing for grownups only. The noise is why it’s not allowed in stores or schools or other public places. 

You seem to be enjoying summer camp, though you rarely tell us what you do there. When asked what the music teacher sang one day, you whispered, “it’s a secret.”

You have grown half an inch and gained a pound over the last two months. You are also outgrowing your summer sandals, but happily Mama was able to find the same pair in the next size up. 

You are no longer willing to ride in shopping carts unless you are extremely tired. 

You have seen the original Sesame Street and was amused that Mama liked it so much. 

You went to the science center and spent most of your time there watching the Omnimax projector. When it was time to go, you negotiated to stay until the projector went back up into the ceiling. 

You know that things die when they get old. 

You have asked if your Grammie is going to die. You were told yes, but not for a long time. 

You asked if you were going to die. You were told no, because Mama thinks you already have enough to worry about (you are currently concerned about storms, tornadoes and fires).

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From the time he was small enough to hold with one arm, the Boo’s bedtime routine has consisted of three stages: Reading, singing and kisses. But lately, the kisses have taken over.

In the beginning, of course, he could not return our kisses. Later, maybe around the time he turned two, he started trying to kiss us. He would approach us with his mouth frog-wide-open, smear us with toddler spit, and look very pleased with himself.

At some point, I decided one kiss on his forehead was not enough, and started kissing his cheeks. He began asking me to kiss his nose, chin, ears, and eyes, and I was happy to comply.  Then one night he decided I should have kisses, too.

He gave me kisses everywhere I had kissed him. And now he has teeth, and an overbite, and doesn’t always pucker up, so I brace myself for gentle collisions. Sometimes, he uses my nose as a handle to get to the part of my face he wants to kiss. It hurts, but it always makes me smile because of how practical and serious he is about it. 

Then one night he declared he was out of kisses. But he knew how to get more, he said. He just needed a special key, which he used to open a spot on his chest. Then he put in more kisses, and more and more. Then he retrieved the key, locked the kisses in, and delivered them. 

This is all very charming, and one of my favorite parts of the day, but it takes a long time. So I’ve started cutting back on books and songs on days when I’m feeling super tired or just done with kid time. He doesn’t seem to notice — he’s too busy stocking up on kisses. 

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