The Calm After the Storm

I had a couple of rough days this week.  The boys were crazy (and ornery and screaming and biting and destructive), Blake worked late every night and my baby sitter has been sick (necessitating the use of my backup plan, and then my backup, backup plan). But then there are nights like tonight where everything magically goes smooth.  They were content while I cooked dinner, they ate well, we played outside on the swing set, bath time was uneventful, they played nicely together and they were both in bed by 8:08.  I was actually able to enjoy my boys.  Unfortunately sometimes it gets so stressful that it’s hard to take in all the special little moments.  But today I did.




I love having conversations with my three-year-old.  I like asking him questions and seeing what sort of whacky response I get.  My favorite from today was about Christmas.  He brings up his elf Max frequently, and Max leads to Santa, and so I asked what he wanted Santa to bring him. “Ummm… ummm… I want a trumpet. And a girl book.” He giggled. Hmm. “A girl book?” I asked. “What is a girl book?” “You know,” he replies, “a book with a lot of girls in it.”  My son. I probed some more but all he’d do was smile and laugh.  Santa can probably handle the trumpet, but I’m pretty sure he won’t be delivering “girl book.” Geez.

Brogan has also been dabbling in irony.  He favorite response to me telling him to do something, or when he doesn’t get his way is “that’s rude!”  Funny he should say that because yesterday, as I was pushing him on the swing, he asked me to push him really high like daddy does. I told him that I’d try, but that I wasn’t as strong as daddy. This lead to the question, “do you to go the gym?” I responded no. And his response, and I quote “oh, that’s why you got a booty!” All I can do is laugh at this one.

And this special, special child does not lack for confidence either.  As he was venturing to do something that bordered on should I or should I not let him do what he’s about to do (can’t for the life of me remember what it was), I finally agreed, but threw in the mom comment “but be careful!” And his response, “don’t worry mommy, I’m a smart boy.”  Why yes, Brogan. Yes you are.  Sometimes a little too smart for your own good.


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