I love Nixon. Actually, I adore him more than life itself. Most days.
But he has this new and horrible habit of stealing my coffee cup and drinking it when I'm not looking. It's a dangerous habit. Not because I add anything that would be harmful for him, to my coffee but because he's stealing my coffee!
This morning he was doing he usual, sneaky coffee stealing tricks. Until I caught him and took my cup back.
Then he came over, while I was drinking my coffee, and took the cup out of my mouth! OH HELL NO!!!! There are very few times I am speechless.
This was one of them.
I recovered, quickly.
I growled at him! I literally growled at Nixon.
Mac, sitting over at his table, said to Nixon "Nix, don't make mommy growl at you".
I said to Nixon "Nixon, stop stealing my coffee while I'm drinking it! I love you, but I love you more after I've had my coffee."
Nixon says "It not warm mommy"
It's not a good argument. He usually says my coffee is not hot, it's warm and since it's warm he can drink it.
Maybe if he drinks more coffee he'll stop growing so much??? A mom can dream can't she?!?!?
Friday, July 20, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
Insomnia induced musings
Do you ever sneak into your child's room, late at night, and sit on the floor next to their bed just watching them sleep? Yeah, me neither.
But for the sake of argument, let's say I am that mom. Do you know what I think about, gazing at the sleeping child smiling in his sleep as I stroke his cheek? I listen to his breathing, his sweet voice murmuring about his dreams. I watch him grasp his teddy bear and curl up on his left side, right leg stretched out with his foot off the bed. I watch his eyelids flutter chasing things unseen to my eyes but what must be vivid dreams behind those long lashes. I kiss his forehead, stroking his hair, and tell him once, twice, a thousand times "I love you" because the nights I do this are the nights I feel I failed him somehow during the day and didn't tell him those three words enough while he was awake.
I think to myself, sometimes aloud to him, how amazingly perfect my son is. He's the single best thing I've done in my 33 years on this planet and I can't fathom a life without him in it. I sometimes think, gazing at his slumbering form, that he's a dream I'm in and will be gone when I wake up in the morning. I lean over to smell his hair, knowing if it is a dream that's the scent I'll search for forever to hold in my arms again. He's the sun, moon, stars and everything in my universe. And oh how I fear he'll be gone one day. It's an irrational fear, I know, but the nights I need to be there watching him sleep, I'm not rational most times.
I wonder if my parents ever do that. Do they hold tight the memories of my sleeping childhood? Do they, like me, wish things were different somehow?
It's awkward being around my parents. They're almost strangers to me, while other family members are much closer. I see my parents and I can't quite reach them. They're in the same room as me but I'm searching for them still.
I remember my dad used to be my world. Then, something happened and the man I knew and loved and worshiped just disappeared. In his place? An angry, ugly, sad man who couldn't love anything around him and destroyed almost every relationship he had with anyone beyond all repair. The day it happened, the day that loving, kind and caring dad left me, I never thought I'd get over.
I looked for that kind of all consuming love, for decades. It haunted me to want to love like that and I forced myself to overlook flaws, just so I could have that love. It was fake, of course, I realize that now. I lied and pretended so much, that I really believed I'd found it. With a boy. I swore I'd love forever.
Then he left me, leaving behind in his place, a wounded and hurting and spiteful man. Wielding my love for him against me like a boomerang. He'd throw it at me and use it against me to get me to do things for him, forcing me to sacrifice my own goals and dreams to help him further his own, rewarding my sacrifices with insulting words and degrading actions. Still I held on hoping his love would come back. When it didn't....
I ran from him.
I ran from everyone I knew and loved. I needed space to find myself.
I found that love, for real this time. The day I felt my child stir in my womb for the first time. It was my 29th birthday and I was just starting really show the bump of pregnancy. Lying calmly at night, curled up in my husband's arms, I'd felt the first nudging from within. Even better, I got to share it with "Squishy*"'s dad, since he was there with me that exact moment.
The moment all other loves I'd thought I had finally paled in comparison and I realized I was carrying my truest love with me that moment. I love my husband for everything he does and is in my life, but I adore my son!
As crazy as he makes me, with his constant almost mindless tantrums and his insane amount of energy and his lightening quick frustration over the smallest things, I would do anything for him.
My son, my sleeping wonderment of silence, my greatest accomplishment, my reason for wanting to build a home where ever our family goes, my heart, soul and whole being now begins and ends with his smile.
I wonder if, years from now, when he's yelling at me telling me I'm ruining his life, will I still feel this way for him? Will it go away with time or get stronger? Does he have any idea that he really is my most favorite thing in this world? I tell him, he's my favorite, but does he understand that concept?? To have a favorite? He has a favorite teddy bear, but over time he learned we had more than one of them for him. He always knew when he had the original one though. Does he know he's my original love?
Does any of this make sense to anyone else?
Am I rambling because I'm tired or tired because of my ramblings?
*Squishy was the only name we told the family before Nixon was born. We knew the name was going to be met with opinions so to avoid the inevitable name choices being tossed our way, we dubbed baby boy "Squishy". Some people pouted over not knowing the name (Marsha....cough, cough.......) and others fully embraced Squishy. A few people may have even been concerned that Squishy wasn't just a nickname and we were going to somehow actually name our child Squishy on his birth certificate. We didn't because we always knew he'd be our Nixon.
I think to myself, sometimes aloud to him, how amazingly perfect my son is. He's the single best thing I've done in my 33 years on this planet and I can't fathom a life without him in it. I sometimes think, gazing at his slumbering form, that he's a dream I'm in and will be gone when I wake up in the morning. I lean over to smell his hair, knowing if it is a dream that's the scent I'll search for forever to hold in my arms again. He's the sun, moon, stars and everything in my universe. And oh how I fear he'll be gone one day. It's an irrational fear, I know, but the nights I need to be there watching him sleep, I'm not rational most times.
I wonder if my parents ever do that. Do they hold tight the memories of my sleeping childhood? Do they, like me, wish things were different somehow?
It's awkward being around my parents. They're almost strangers to me, while other family members are much closer. I see my parents and I can't quite reach them. They're in the same room as me but I'm searching for them still.
I remember my dad used to be my world. Then, something happened and the man I knew and loved and worshiped just disappeared. In his place? An angry, ugly, sad man who couldn't love anything around him and destroyed almost every relationship he had with anyone beyond all repair. The day it happened, the day that loving, kind and caring dad left me, I never thought I'd get over.
I looked for that kind of all consuming love, for decades. It haunted me to want to love like that and I forced myself to overlook flaws, just so I could have that love. It was fake, of course, I realize that now. I lied and pretended so much, that I really believed I'd found it. With a boy. I swore I'd love forever.
Then he left me, leaving behind in his place, a wounded and hurting and spiteful man. Wielding my love for him against me like a boomerang. He'd throw it at me and use it against me to get me to do things for him, forcing me to sacrifice my own goals and dreams to help him further his own, rewarding my sacrifices with insulting words and degrading actions. Still I held on hoping his love would come back. When it didn't....
I ran from him.
I ran from everyone I knew and loved. I needed space to find myself.
I found that love, for real this time. The day I felt my child stir in my womb for the first time. It was my 29th birthday and I was just starting really show the bump of pregnancy. Lying calmly at night, curled up in my husband's arms, I'd felt the first nudging from within. Even better, I got to share it with "Squishy*"'s dad, since he was there with me that exact moment.
The moment all other loves I'd thought I had finally paled in comparison and I realized I was carrying my truest love with me that moment. I love my husband for everything he does and is in my life, but I adore my son!
As crazy as he makes me, with his constant almost mindless tantrums and his insane amount of energy and his lightening quick frustration over the smallest things, I would do anything for him.
My son, my sleeping wonderment of silence, my greatest accomplishment, my reason for wanting to build a home where ever our family goes, my heart, soul and whole being now begins and ends with his smile.
I wonder if, years from now, when he's yelling at me telling me I'm ruining his life, will I still feel this way for him? Will it go away with time or get stronger? Does he have any idea that he really is my most favorite thing in this world? I tell him, he's my favorite, but does he understand that concept?? To have a favorite? He has a favorite teddy bear, but over time he learned we had more than one of them for him. He always knew when he had the original one though. Does he know he's my original love?
Does any of this make sense to anyone else?
Am I rambling because I'm tired or tired because of my ramblings?
*Squishy was the only name we told the family before Nixon was born. We knew the name was going to be met with opinions so to avoid the inevitable name choices being tossed our way, we dubbed baby boy "Squishy". Some people pouted over not knowing the name (Marsha....cough, cough.......) and others fully embraced Squishy. A few people may have even been concerned that Squishy wasn't just a nickname and we were going to somehow actually name our child Squishy on his birth certificate. We didn't because we always knew he'd be our Nixon.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
more silliness from a 3-year old
I swear some days Nixon just amazes me. Every minute of the day he has the potential to make me laugh, cry or both at the same time.
We watched Ice Age last night. After Mac went to bed. Just the two of us, snuggled on the couch. Nixon LOVES "dinosaurs" as he calls all things Ice Age franchise related. The first one isn't as warm and fuzzy as the movies that follow it. It's got some sad parts. Near the end of the movie, the neanderthals are searching for the baby and Manny shows up with the baby. It's a real tear-jerking scene. Damned thing gets me every time!
It also got Nixon! In the cutest, most "manly" way ever...
me: Nixon, are you okay? (I see his lip is quivering and eyes are getting shiny)
Nixon: No mommy, its sad! The baby and the daddy are together....it's so....AWWWW!
me: Nixon, it's okay to cry when your happy. I do, a lot.
Nixon: *stiff upper lip* I not sad mommy. The baby and the daddy are together! It's good.
me: Nixon, movies sometimes make you cry and you don't know why. It's because its a good movie, right?
Nixon: Mom, the movie...I not sad over the movie *wipes his eyes because he's got real tears now* I'm sad no Popsicle before bed!
me: You're crying because I said no Popsicle before bed, at the beginning of the movie?!?! Really, Nixon??
Nixon: Popsicles are yummy, mommy.
me: Yeah, I know. Are you sure your okay? The movie's not over yet.
Nixon: *Diego just appeared on screen* MOM, it's the lion! He came back! AWWWWW....*sniffles* I so happy!
me: Nixon, you are a mess, just like your mom!
Nixon: *kisses my cheek* I know, mommy.
It's amazing that at his age, he's developing empathy enough to cry at the end of a movie and even more amazing is he covers it up with a really silly excuse! I love this kid, I truly do.
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We're still ass deep in boxes here. Trying to get everything in order because my mother-in-law will more than likely be here for a visit in less than a month. I'm actually really excited for her visit, because I can't wait to see her and Nixon together. He already love her so much! Whenever were on the phone, he says "I talk to Nana now", even if we're not talking to her. Earlier this week, he asked to call her twice! Then he'll walk around the house on the phone blabbing to her about his day. The best part is when he thrusts the phone in the direction of something that he's really excited about and says "See, Nana!??" like she is there with him instead of on the phone! He's so adorable!
Back to the unpacking.....
Because of the unpacking, things get strewn all over the place. Today, Nixon found one of my bras underneath pillows on the sofa. I'm going to say, possibly from folding laundry, it how it got there. I turn to see him pulling up his shirt, and trying to fasten the bra around his chest.
me: Nixon, why are you trying to put on my bra?
Nixon: I needs to hide my nipples mommy.
me: Hide your nipples?
Nixon: Yeah, like you do.
Oy vey! Really, I need to (a) stop getting dressed in front of Nixon or (b) make sure Nixon knows the difference between my nipples and his nipples. He does not need a bra! Hell, let's be honest, I barely need a bra! I totally adore my son!
He tends to be such a mini-me, in far more ways than I had ever imagined he could be!
We watched Ice Age last night. After Mac went to bed. Just the two of us, snuggled on the couch. Nixon LOVES "dinosaurs" as he calls all things Ice Age franchise related. The first one isn't as warm and fuzzy as the movies that follow it. It's got some sad parts. Near the end of the movie, the neanderthals are searching for the baby and Manny shows up with the baby. It's a real tear-jerking scene. Damned thing gets me every time!
It also got Nixon! In the cutest, most "manly" way ever...
me: Nixon, are you okay? (I see his lip is quivering and eyes are getting shiny)
Nixon: No mommy, its sad! The baby and the daddy are together....it's so....AWWWW!
me: Nixon, it's okay to cry when your happy. I do, a lot.
Nixon: *stiff upper lip* I not sad mommy. The baby and the daddy are together! It's good.
me: Nixon, movies sometimes make you cry and you don't know why. It's because its a good movie, right?
Nixon: Mom, the movie...I not sad over the movie *wipes his eyes because he's got real tears now* I'm sad no Popsicle before bed!
me: You're crying because I said no Popsicle before bed, at the beginning of the movie?!?! Really, Nixon??
Nixon: Popsicles are yummy, mommy.
me: Yeah, I know. Are you sure your okay? The movie's not over yet.
Nixon: *Diego just appeared on screen* MOM, it's the lion! He came back! AWWWWW....*sniffles* I so happy!
me: Nixon, you are a mess, just like your mom!
Nixon: *kisses my cheek* I know, mommy.
It's amazing that at his age, he's developing empathy enough to cry at the end of a movie and even more amazing is he covers it up with a really silly excuse! I love this kid, I truly do.
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We're still ass deep in boxes here. Trying to get everything in order because my mother-in-law will more than likely be here for a visit in less than a month. I'm actually really excited for her visit, because I can't wait to see her and Nixon together. He already love her so much! Whenever were on the phone, he says "I talk to Nana now", even if we're not talking to her. Earlier this week, he asked to call her twice! Then he'll walk around the house on the phone blabbing to her about his day. The best part is when he thrusts the phone in the direction of something that he's really excited about and says "See, Nana!??" like she is there with him instead of on the phone! He's so adorable!
Back to the unpacking.....
Because of the unpacking, things get strewn all over the place. Today, Nixon found one of my bras underneath pillows on the sofa. I'm going to say, possibly from folding laundry, it how it got there. I turn to see him pulling up his shirt, and trying to fasten the bra around his chest.
me: Nixon, why are you trying to put on my bra?
Nixon: I needs to hide my nipples mommy.
me: Hide your nipples?
Nixon: Yeah, like you do.
Oy vey! Really, I need to (a) stop getting dressed in front of Nixon or (b) make sure Nixon knows the difference between my nipples and his nipples. He does not need a bra! Hell, let's be honest, I barely need a bra! I totally adore my son!
He tends to be such a mini-me, in far more ways than I had ever imagined he could be!
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Conversations with my 3-year old
I have some of my most random, ridiculous conversations with Nixon. Mostly because I'm still not working and he's my main companion but also because he's got some insane thought processes going on in that precious little head of his. Well, not so little head, thank goddess he wasn't born with the noggin he's got on him now cause that would have totally ripped me a new one! Instead he was kind enough to come out and leave me with one small stitch. Let's hear it for a considerate boy from that start!!
Last Friday, Nixon woke up and said he wanted a haircut. I tried to convince Mac it was a now-or-never thing but he said we'll do it the next day, no reason to rush. Such a silly, foolish husband I have. He didn't listen to me and the next day Nixon had moved on to his "no haircut" stance, and stood firm. For the entire weekend he held his stance. Mac went to work Monday and the haircut was presumably forgotten.
Until yesterday. When this happened:
Nixon (after his nap) : Mommy, my hair is sticky
me: Really? Why?
Nixon: I have too much hair
me: Should I take you to get a hair cut
Nixon: Umm...we need to go in the new green car.
me: You'll get a haircut if we go in my green car?
Nixon: Yes, but not the blue car only the green car.
me: Go get your shoes!
Guess who made the haircut happen today?? THIS mommy, right here!
I was especially proud of Nixon because he sat in the salon waiting for over 30 minutes before he got into the chair. He played with his cars and read a car magazine with me. By read, I mean counted cars by color on a page. When he did get in the chair, he was awesome. He smiled, giggled and told me all the colors of the razor guards he saw.
On the ride home he says "mommy, my hair is all gone"
me: yep, it sure is. You were awesome too! I am so proud of you
Nixon: mommy, how do the bzzzz's work (Nixonese for clippers)
me: they move very fast and cut the hair as they go over it
Nixon: No mommy, how do they work?
me: I just told you.
Nixon: No mommy, how does it work?
me: How does what work Nixon? I'm driving and can't see what your showing me.
Nixon: how does my smile work?
seriously?!?!? Where does he get this stuff? Most kids do "why?" my kid does "how does it work".
And finally, in the category of paying way too much attention to what Mac does, we have Nixon coming up behind me in the kitchen yesterday and destroying a woman's (aka his mother's) self-esteem.
I was wearing my loose and comfy jeans with a tee shirt. My jeans were a little low, because I was in the middle of putting together our bookcase and trying to make dinner. I was at the stove stirring dinner and Nixon walks up behind me. He starts pulling my shirt down over my jeans covering up any exposed skin I had. While he was doing this he was telling me "No, mommy, no no no". NO?? What?!?! Oh yeah, my husband does this all the time, telling me to cover my goodies up. Apparently my waist and back are just so sexy that a small glimpse of them will drive someone crazy.
Either that or the stretchmarks are so disturbing that he feels the need to protect the world from seeing them. He claims it's for my own good, but now with Nixon doing it...I feel ugly and very unattractive about the whole thing.
Fucked up in such a pretty package eh?!?!
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Raising my son with reality induced honest lessons
Let's start with, I don't do things to scare Nixon. Rather I do things so he's aware of things that just aren't right and I tell him these things whenever the moment arises. It's also important to mention, Nixon wants every boo boo and owie he gets to be kissed all better by me or sometimes Mac.
Last week Nixon was walking funny and saying his peenie hurt. During his bath, Mac asked me to take a look at Nixon's "junk" because it looked all red. Nixon cried and didn't want anyone looking at it, but Mommy needed to take a look. It looked irritated and was sensitive when I touched it, but a little neosproin overnight and it was better by morning. I did that for 3 days and now he hasn't had another issue.
Before he could even ask I had this conversation with him:
me- Nixon, I know mommy kisses all your owies better, but I won't be kissing this one.
Nixon- No kiss?
me- I'll hug and you kiss your cheek, but your peenie is a place that no one is allowed to kiss. Not even mommy, okay?
Nixon- uhhh.....
me- Nixon, if anyone besides Mommy or Daddy touches your peenie you tell us right away. You're not going to be in trouble. You aren't being naughty, but the person who does it is being very naughty.
Nixon- I pee from my peenie, no kisses it!
me- That's right Nixon! (haha for now that logic with stick, give it 10 years and I bet his feelings change on the subject *sigh*)
Nixon- Mommy my peenie's better, no kisses for it cause that is naughty!
me- Okay, mister!
I'm pretty sure I also mentioned he should avoid strangers in windowless vans, with puppies or who offer candy to him. None of that sank in, I lost him at puppies.
Next lesson?? Less backseat driving. haha (he's got a bad case)
Last week Nixon was walking funny and saying his peenie hurt. During his bath, Mac asked me to take a look at Nixon's "junk" because it looked all red. Nixon cried and didn't want anyone looking at it, but Mommy needed to take a look. It looked irritated and was sensitive when I touched it, but a little neosproin overnight and it was better by morning. I did that for 3 days and now he hasn't had another issue.
Before he could even ask I had this conversation with him:
me- Nixon, I know mommy kisses all your owies better, but I won't be kissing this one.
Nixon- No kiss?
me- I'll hug and you kiss your cheek, but your peenie is a place that no one is allowed to kiss. Not even mommy, okay?
Nixon- uhhh.....
me- Nixon, if anyone besides Mommy or Daddy touches your peenie you tell us right away. You're not going to be in trouble. You aren't being naughty, but the person who does it is being very naughty.
Nixon- I pee from my peenie, no kisses it!
me- That's right Nixon! (haha for now that logic with stick, give it 10 years and I bet his feelings change on the subject *sigh*)
Nixon- Mommy my peenie's better, no kisses for it cause that is naughty!
me- Okay, mister!
I'm pretty sure I also mentioned he should avoid strangers in windowless vans, with puppies or who offer candy to him. None of that sank in, I lost him at puppies.
Next lesson?? Less backseat driving. haha (he's got a bad case)
Friday, June 29, 2012
He just HAD to make me act like a real parent, didn't he???
I love my son, I love my son, I love my son. I just have days where I don't like his attitude very much. Lately those days are pretty much every day I wake up and the sun is in the sky.
Today was the day he crossed my line in the sand. He started with the throwing stuff, I took it away, he threw some more. I had enough and took him upstairs to his room for a time out. He was fine, out in his 3 minutes back downstairs. Easy peasy. Except that he decided to throw more toys and start yelling within 10 minutes of getting out of T.O. After looking at the clock, it was close enough to naptime, so I told him "upstairs". He yelled at me, I carried him upstairs and into his bedroom. He threw one toy at me, I threw it into the hallway just outside his bedroom. He threw another toy, I put it with the first toy. After he was out of toys I asked if he wanted to throw anything else, when he grabbed his pillow dinosaur I took it as a non-verbal yes and threw the pillow in the hall as well. Then I took his other pillow and both his blankets, plus his aquarium light for good measurement, leaving him just his air mattress (his bed comes in on Tuesday).
To say he lost his shit when he realized I was serious about taking everything in his room away would be a complete understatement! He lost his mind! He melted down, crying hard and loudly for at least 20 minutes non-stop! It was naptime to begin with, the screaming at me before I took him to his bedroom clinched that for him. By 25 minutes I needed to calm him down so he'd sleep, so I went upstairs and explained why he was in his room, why I took everything away and made sure to tell him I loved him....over and over and over again. I also gave him one pillow and a blanket back, so he'd go to sleep.
I pulled an ultimate parenting move. On a 3-year old! I wasn't expecting to do this shit for at least 7-9 more years! But as always, Nixon seems to be a little ahead of the curve. I'm sorry, but throwing toys, especially after he was made to throw some out earlier this week for throwing them, is a no-go. He's got a real throwing issue and I can't seem to find a way to get thru to him that him that it is not acceptable behavior. He throws toys at the cats, he throws things/toys at me. He throws things into the ceiling fans.
I'm at my mothering wits end!
Today was the day he crossed my line in the sand. He started with the throwing stuff, I took it away, he threw some more. I had enough and took him upstairs to his room for a time out. He was fine, out in his 3 minutes back downstairs. Easy peasy. Except that he decided to throw more toys and start yelling within 10 minutes of getting out of T.O. After looking at the clock, it was close enough to naptime, so I told him "upstairs". He yelled at me, I carried him upstairs and into his bedroom. He threw one toy at me, I threw it into the hallway just outside his bedroom. He threw another toy, I put it with the first toy. After he was out of toys I asked if he wanted to throw anything else, when he grabbed his pillow dinosaur I took it as a non-verbal yes and threw the pillow in the hall as well. Then I took his other pillow and both his blankets, plus his aquarium light for good measurement, leaving him just his air mattress (his bed comes in on Tuesday).
To say he lost his shit when he realized I was serious about taking everything in his room away would be a complete understatement! He lost his mind! He melted down, crying hard and loudly for at least 20 minutes non-stop! It was naptime to begin with, the screaming at me before I took him to his bedroom clinched that for him. By 25 minutes I needed to calm him down so he'd sleep, so I went upstairs and explained why he was in his room, why I took everything away and made sure to tell him I loved him....over and over and over again. I also gave him one pillow and a blanket back, so he'd go to sleep.
I pulled an ultimate parenting move. On a 3-year old! I wasn't expecting to do this shit for at least 7-9 more years! But as always, Nixon seems to be a little ahead of the curve. I'm sorry, but throwing toys, especially after he was made to throw some out earlier this week for throwing them, is a no-go. He's got a real throwing issue and I can't seem to find a way to get thru to him that him that it is not acceptable behavior. He throws toys at the cats, he throws things/toys at me. He throws things into the ceiling fans.
I'm at my mothering wits end!
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Logic, according to a 3-year old
Nixon declared yesterday, his favorite color is green. I found this hilarious on multiple levels: he spent the morning in bed with me asking to see "my mommy's favorite eyes", he kept playing with "my favorite green yo-yo" and he is obsessed with riding in "the green car".
Let me elaborate.
My eyes are green.
His yo-yo is green (and is now in the garbage because he sent it whizzing through the air, inches from my head last night and crashing into the living room window. He's in a throwing phase and lots of toys are getting thrown out as a subsequent action.)
My new car, the Kia Soul, is green.
I'd like to say it's coincidence but I think the truth is: I've accidentally bribed Nixon into thinking green is the best color in the world! Everytime we go for a ride in my car, he gets to pick a matchbox car from a multipack I keep in the back of my car. It makes getting him out to the car less of a fight, and he has something to look forward to. Expect now, he ONLY wants to go in the green car, even though I set up a small box of new cars for him in Mac's car as well.
Last night, Mac was taking Nixon for a ride and asked Nixon which car he wanted to ride in. Nixon had seen me putting the box of new cars in Mac's car the night before, which should have been enough to get Nixon to say "blue car"....but no.
Mac: Nixon, we're going to go for a ride.
Nixon: In the green car?
Mac: No buddy, mommy is staying home, so we're taking the blue car.
Nixon: NO! No! Blue car! Only green car!
me: Nixon, you know the blue car has toys in it now too, right?
Nixon: NO, blue car is stupid!
me: What?!
Mac: Nixon, do you want to take the green car?
Nixon: Yes. May I have go in green car please?
me: Nixon, what's wrong with daddy's blue car?
Nixon: Blue car is not green car. *and he walks away*
me: *to Mac* You really can't argue with that logic.
Let me elaborate.
My eyes are green.
His yo-yo is green (and is now in the garbage because he sent it whizzing through the air, inches from my head last night and crashing into the living room window. He's in a throwing phase and lots of toys are getting thrown out as a subsequent action.)
My new car, the Kia Soul, is green.
I'd like to say it's coincidence but I think the truth is: I've accidentally bribed Nixon into thinking green is the best color in the world! Everytime we go for a ride in my car, he gets to pick a matchbox car from a multipack I keep in the back of my car. It makes getting him out to the car less of a fight, and he has something to look forward to. Expect now, he ONLY wants to go in the green car, even though I set up a small box of new cars for him in Mac's car as well.
Last night, Mac was taking Nixon for a ride and asked Nixon which car he wanted to ride in. Nixon had seen me putting the box of new cars in Mac's car the night before, which should have been enough to get Nixon to say "blue car"....but no.
Mac: Nixon, we're going to go for a ride.
Nixon: In the green car?
Mac: No buddy, mommy is staying home, so we're taking the blue car.
Nixon: NO! No! Blue car! Only green car!
me: Nixon, you know the blue car has toys in it now too, right?
Nixon: NO, blue car is stupid!
me: What?!
Mac: Nixon, do you want to take the green car?
Nixon: Yes. May I have go in green car please?
me: Nixon, what's wrong with daddy's blue car?
Nixon: Blue car is not green car. *and he walks away*
me: *to Mac* You really can't argue with that logic.
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