We Three Moms

Lil’C.: Ball. Ball. Ball. Ball. Ball. Mommy – Ball. Mommeee Mommeeee… BALL. BALL. BALL! BALLLLL! BAAAALLLLL!!!!!

Me: Yes Baby- I see the ball.

Lil’C.: Oh K.

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Lil’C.: Feum. (Swim.). Mommy. Feum. (Running back and forth to the door and pointing.)

Me: No Baby, we can’t swim. It’s raining outside.

Lil’C.: Uh’K.

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Lil’C.: Bay-ud. BAY-UD. BAAAAYYYYY-UDDDD!!!! (Bed. It means he wants to get on the bed and play hiding under the pillows.)

Me: No Lil’C- you’ll fall and knock your crazy head off. (If you know what book I am borrowing from you get a, um…er…well, you get acknowledged as having read and remembered one of the best books EVER.)

Lil’C.: K.

After all of these encounters (and many many more) he accepts my answers and toddles off to discover something new. Is raising a boy really this much easier?

Just for fun, here is an example of a similar encounter with SDS when she was 22 months old:

SDS:   I want to wear some make-up. Let me put on some of your lip gloss and mascara.

Me:  No Baby, you can’t wear that stuff and we have to go to school.

SDS: NO! I want to ‘might’ now. Do you hear me Mommy? Pahwease. I said Pahwease.

Me: No M’am. Let’s get ready for school.

SDS: I can’t. I caaaaauuuunnnn’t… no no no… I can’t Mommy. Nooooooooooooo (to infinity) and falls out on the floor.

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I am not exaggerating when I say that I DREAD 15.