Typical morning. Carson gets too silly around Sydney when she’s trying to “eat” and stops to look at him, causing me to get annoyed.
Carson: Mom, why isn’t Sydney eating?
Me: Because she thinks you’re so exciting.
Carson: Well? I AM so exciting!
In the car after church on Sunday…
Daddy: Carson, tell us about your story in class today.
Carson: There was a sheep and he got lost from all the other sheeps.
Mommy: Good memory! Then what happened?
Carson: Well, uh, Jesus came and found him. And then there was a manger. And the donkeys and sheep ate from the manger. And when sheeps are in trouble, I’m the only one who can rescue them from the bad guys.
Mommy and Daddy just smile and shrug.
After all my potty-training woes that I shared last June, I have to share that Carson has done a wonderful job and is almost completely PT’d. He wears a pull-up at night and most naps, but during the day he does a great job. In fact, we’ve put the toddler pot in the attic and most of the time he can go by himself and even wash his hands alone. (Twosies still need an adult helper for the wiping.) (Did I just type that?) ANYWAY, a few weeks ago, Carson announced that he was going alone and didn’t need help. Great! I thought. He then came out (sans pants & unders) and told me we were out of TP, and was going to get a new roll. Fabulous! “Wow.” I thought to myself. “We have really entered the promised land here. I’m almost a non-entity in the potty world, and I LOVE it!” He walked back by me with a new roll from the closet, finished his biz and came back out with his clothes on and hands washed. I was bursting with pride.
A couple hours later, I venture into the bathroom for my own biz, and I see THE ENTIRE ROLL of toilet paper floating in the toilet water. Sigh. It seems that promised land is still a ways out. Hopefully not 40 more years.
We are currently in the middle of a new imagination game (Monica, Chandler and Rachel aren’t around as often these days). Now, Carson wants more interactive involvement. We rotate between two games: “pet store” and “don’t hurt my babies.” The first game involves Carson becoming a puppy, and I am a shopper at the store and I inquire about the cute puppy to the “pet store man.” Sometimes the puppy is hurt. Other times the puppy is locked and can’t get out. Sometimes the puppy is sick. Every once in a while I actually get to purchase and keep the puppy, but that is rare. The versions of this game go back to back to back to back. It seems endless. The only easy thing about it is that Carson tells me exactly what I’m supposed to say and exactly what Pet Store Man says. There’s very little thought involved.
“Don’t hurt my babies” is a jungle game, and in this game we actually get to switch roles back and forth. Each of us is a wild animal, and one has babies. (This is where Sydney gets to play. She is the babies.) The other one stalks, growls and narrates his/her evil intentions to devour the babies if no one interferes. Giraffes, tigers, lions, hippos and especially jaguars are the star of this game. Don’t worry, the mommy/daddy wild animal always swoops in just in time to save its babies from the jaws of the other wild animal. It, too, can last for what seems like an eternity when I have a million other things to do, but I try to indulge a few times a day to be a good mommy. Carson, first child that he is, also directs this one as carefully as a staged performance, and commands each move and all the dialogue. What is in store for this kid’s future? I can’t wait to find out. I also can’t wait for preschool to start.