This week I’m running on PacEastern Time. We were California last week for my brother’s wedding and quickly unadjusted to Eastern Time (not to be confused with adjusting to Pacific Time). I think I’ve since settled somewhere near Siesta Time.
It was so fun to see my brother get married. My favorite part was the look of giddy joy on his face for the whole wedding and reception. In one photo after the ceremony, he has that little boy expression of having just got away with something big and is so proud of himself. They both were all smiles and make a great couple.
Now we’re back and have properly reset the perfectly clean house into its standard level of chaos. We are pet sitting a baby turtle and the boys love it! Especially my youngest. He spends probably 30 minutes a day watching it. At night, while Brian reads bedtime stories, Elijah will sit up and look longingly into my eyes, petitioning, “Durdol? Durdol?” “You want to say goodnight to the turtle?” I ask. “Mmm hmm,” he nods. I take him to the kitchen and scoot a chair in front of the aquarium and he sits, rapt, and eventually waves “dye dye.”
He’s a little joker. If I tell him to eat something, he puts it to his mouth to pretend eat it, before pulling it away and repeating. If his big brother Isaac gets up from a chair, he races to sit in it and giggles hysterically. When Isaac heads back, he dashes off with delight. They usually get into a game of it back and forth. Elijah really meshes well with either of them. He and his oldest brother Ian will sit in the car making face and noise games with each other. Sometimes Elijah will prod one of them just for the reaction. Other times, much like Ian, he will find various spare parts around the house, like a sippy lid and valve and busies himself trying to put the pieces together. He’s very much trying to be a big boy, with extra emphasis on “boy”. He finds it hysterical to thrust out his hips and say, “Tee!” Or he’ll sit in his car seat and make an exaggerated grunt and giggle, “Doot!” He insists on sitting at the big table and using his own “doo” (spoon), so yet again, I often can be found sitting at the kids’ table.
Isaac is taking it slow and steady as usual. I think when he’s grown, he might be the quiet guy in the room, who opens his mouth on occasion to say something clever and uproariously funny. He says most words with at least two syllables, or at least a drawl, such as hay-ouse, vay-an, and drank. He might seem shy to some now, but when he’s in his comfort zone, he sings away and babbles on, and if you listen closely, you’re in for a giggle. Beware, though, at the slightest offense, you’ll see that his shrieks are as big as his laughs. Our latest test of his emotional state is to ask him if the sky is Blue. If he says, “No, it’s green,” we know to give him some space.
One evening, I was talking with Isaac, and he decided he wanted me to tell him a story about race cars. So, I made up a story about our family going to a race track and Isaac winning a contest to drive a race car.
Me: So Isaac climbed in his shiny red race car and…
Isaac: It’s yewow.
Me: So Isaac climbed in his shiny yellow race car and began to zoom around the track..
Isaac: No. I drove thlowly.
Me: Isaac began to drive very slowly and carefully around the track.
Isaac: And I saw lots of jews.
Me: What? Juice?
Isaac: No. Jews.
Isaac: Yeth. And I cowected all the shiny jews in a bag.
Me: Oh. Jewels! Yes, you collected lots of jewels as you drove slowly and carefully around the track. All the other cars were wild and reckless, but you carefully made it to the finish line and won a BIG trophy.
Isaac: No, just a thmall trophy.
During some other fanciful discussion in the van, Ian replied to Isaac with, “Wow! Wouldn’t that be so silly!” to which Isaac replied, “No, that would be normal.” During the same car ride, Isaac was discussing his growth.
Isaac: Am I growing into a big man?
Brian: Yes you are.
I: And will I be a big man named Isaac?
I: And I will go to work every day.
Me: What will be your job?
I: I will mow the lawn. And I will have 4 childwen.
Me: Wow. Four children? Will they be boys, girls, or both?
I: Boys. And there will be a mommy too.
Me: I wonder who she will be.
I: Her name is Amy.
Me: Wow, that’s my name too!
Ian said he would have three kids, girls and boys, would drive a backhoe loader, and would have a house made of gingerbread – not to eat, but to keep him warm.
Isaac is dramatic in the typical sense; Ian in the theatrical sense. I saw him preparing to put on his pajamas the other night in front of a mirror, performing a monologue in the role of a woman: Oh Batman! How could you?! Don’t you know I’ve always wanted to be with you? Maybe I should get dressed.
Brian came home from the airport the other day and brought the boys a surprise: a bag of peanuts. The boys were excited. At this age we could present anything and call it a prize and they are excited. Ian asked where they came from. When Brian said he got them on the plane, it was like an astonishing revelation. Ian exclaimed, “Wow! It’s like a restaurant with Cheesy Grills (grilled chese)!”
Ian has been busting me big time lately. Last time we went through Chick-Fil-A, we got the boys some fruit cups, and us some sandwiches, a tea and a Coke Zero. After leaving the drive through, Ian made a big fuss that we didn’t get him a Sprite. We offered to share, but he insisted that he have his own drink. I told him we would hand him a drink and he could have as much of it as he wanted. He finally settled into agreement. Brian and I exchanged glances that silently discussed which drink we wanted him chugging on. Brian finally handed back the tea.
Ian took a few gulps and asked: What is this I’m drinking?
I asked: What does it taste like?
Me: That’s right, it’s tea.
Ian: Do you have soda?
Me: (trying to doge the question) We gave you tea.
Ian: What is in the other cup that you are drinking? Are you drinking soda?
Me: Uhh…yes. What do you want to do when we get home?
I was on the phone with Brian, who calls me every evening to let me know he is on his way home. Ian was trying to talk to me, and I paused to say, “Sweetie, I’m trying to talk to Dad on the phone and I’m having a hard time hearing him. I can’t listen to you at the same time.” He replied, “But Mom, you have two ears. Can’t you listen to me with the other one?
Today at lunch time, he gave me the most diplomatic refusal of food ever. We were all eating salads, and I dropped a few flavored almonds beside everyone’s bowl. Ian tasted one and told me, “Mom, I prefer to have these just for decoration. I don’t eat these anymore.” Oh, my little politician.