My youngest son is four and you’d think after four previous kids, three of whom are boys as well, I’d understand the mind of a preschooler. Not this kid. He does some of the most, uh, should I say, creative things. For example, just this morning he has been busy creating and exploring in ways I’d never even dream of. He got into the big salt container, you know, the one you use to refill the salt shaker and cook with. Salt all over the floor in the tv room and a bit in the kitchen (which adjoins the tv room). Now keep in mind that I have only had four to six hours of sleep the previous two nights so I’m not really, uh, with it. A little slow today. Anyway, after checking my email, I head back downstairs worried because it’s just too quiet (you parents know what I mean about too quiet). I come in to the tv room and he’s quietly, nicely playing Spore on the computer. Cool, I think to myself…then I feel something gritty on my feet and look down. The tan carpet looks white over a large surface. Confused, I kind of look around and spot the salt container (whew…mystery of the white powder solved…at least it wasn’t Country Time Lemonade!). I’m just your average parent- working on consistency, sometimes I yell (which I know I shouldn’t), and sometimes I just stare dumbly (or numbly) at the mess, shake my head and clean it up. This time, however, I was so tired and in my head I was “What were you thinking?????” Luckily, what came out was, “So, what were you trying to make?” in a rather calm, collected, and decidedly unemotional voice. “Oh- a special ingredient,” he replied. Not one to argue I just said, “Ok, but next time you want to make a special ingredient just ask. Ok?” Sigh. And I walked away and started the cleanup process.
After sweeping the floor (which I did, by the way, find the lemonade mix down on one of the barstools…just a little on the stool, nothing major yet- thank goodness!) I headed up to finally get ready for my day. About two minutes later, my four year old comes in with one of his brother’s snorkel, turns on the bathroom sink and fills it. Then, he sticks the bottom of the snorkel in the sink and starts to breath. Well, a piece of the snorkel is missing and the snorkel just sucks in water and it just isn’t working. For some reason, he thinks having a bath will help and I figure- hey, bath time without asking, cool! So as I’m running the water, he strips down and then runs to his room to get some toys. He comes back and dumps his box of Transformers into the bath tub. Transformers. You know, those incredibly complicated robot looking things that change into vehicles that appeal to young boys who can’t transform them, but quickly become boring once the older ones figure it out…and I can’t figure half of them out to save my life. Why on earth does he need Transformers in his bath???
I really do love my son. And I really am thankful he has a great imagination. Sometimes I just wish I could be a fly on the wall of his brain….
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