Andrew has been a royal pain in the patoot for a few days now. Lying on the kitchen table. Jumping in the bathtub. Two-year-old stuff. I'm crying more than he is.
This morning he stopped climbing up in his carseat for the sole reason that I asked him to climb up in his carseat. "No," he said, quietly and with a sly grin. It was only 108 or 110 degrees outside with 200% humidity so I didn't mind waiting for him. You know how the story ends. I picked him up and put him in his carseat, he screamed and screamed and screamed, and off we went.
On our drive, I decided to do some magazine parenting and explain to him calmly why I didn't let him climb up.
Mom: Andrew, why did Mom pick you up and put you in your carseat?
Andrew: Yeah?
M: Because you did not follow directions. Mom told you to climb up but you didn't climb up.
A: Fire truck!
M: Yes, a fire truck. (Note: there was no fire truck.)
A: Davidow climb up now?
M: No, Andrew, you can't climb up now because you're already in your seat. You lost the privilege of climbing up. Do you know what a privilege is?
A: Yeah? Yeah?
M: A privilege means . . .
A: I love you Mom!
Other ways the conversation could have ended:
A: Hey look! Your shoe's untied!
or
A: Hey, what's that over there?
But he knows how to say "I love you" so that's what he said. And I know he does loves me. But that's not why he said it. As Auntie Ali and I used to say, "True true unrelated!"
1 comment:
Hannah does the same thing to us! She will randomly say "I love you" when we're about ready to pull our hair out. Even if it's unrelated, it's sweet and makes the craziness a little bit easier.
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