AmusedPosted: November 25, 2012
I’ll admit it. I’m fairly easily amused. I amuse myself quite a bit, which is essential to my being a fundamentally happy (if vaguely smug and annoying) person. (And a person who apparently uses a lot of adverbs–my creative writing professors and colleagues would be so ashamed).
I’m also very amused by my kid.
Now I imagine that those of you who aren’t couch-blobs are suffering from a bit of that malaise that comes with returning to work after an extra-long weekend, or having your co-parent return to work after an extra-long weekend. So I will share with you some of the amusing things that have happened in my tiny sphere (the eight-foot semicircular radius around my couch) in the previous forty-eight hours. May my anecdotes lift your spirits as they have lifted mine.
1. Das Big Boy and I were reading Horton Hears a Who (by Dr. Seuss, notes my toddler). In it, Horton mentions that children may live on the speck of dust he’s protecting. I smelled a teachable moment (that sounds dangerous with a toddler, but really, it just means I wanted to engage him in an educational convo.)
“Children,” I said. “Who’s a child?”
“Das Big Boy,” said Das Big Boy, pronouncing his name correctly as is now the norm for him.
“That’s right,” I said. “Das Big Boy is a child. And what is mommy?”
“Fat,” answered Das Big Boy.
A glutton for punishment (among other things, if Das Big Boy is to be believed) I persisted. “What’s Mommy?” I asked.
Das Big Boy responded with something that sounded like either Allison or elephant. “Elephant?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he replied, “Mommy is Horton.”
2. Yesterday, Herr Husband was struggling a bit to set up our Christmas tree. The stand was malfunctioning and he was getting a bit annoyed. I, as usual, was on the couch. Das Big Boy wandered off and was not under direct adult supervision. He’s fairly trustworthy, so we let this happen from time to time.
After several quiet minutes, he emerged from the bathroom.
Apparently the grand master of a potty parade, he held the toilet brush aloft like a baton and had twenty feet of toilet paper trailing from his foot. The rest of the roll, it turned out, was balled up on the floor in the bathroom. We were TPd by our own child. And we handled this moment by laughing hysterically rather than parenting. Although Herr Husband did take the toilet brush away, because that’s a little gross. At least Das Big Boy was holding it by the right end.
3. This has nothing to do with Das Big Boy but with something fascinating and fabulous to which ESA introduced me. Are you all familiar with the art of Eric Joyner? He paints robots and donuts.
ESA went on a date with someone who felt it was very urgent that she see his book of Eric Joyner paintings. And no, that’s not a euphemism.
I told her I was glad she went on such dates because otherwise I would never know that these robot and donut paintings (and their attendant obsessive fanboys) exist. And I am happy they do.
Now you can share in my bliss. The world is a funny and mysterious place.
Also, my second child remains a fetus, so that’s good news, too.
Happy Sunday night, loyal readers!