my cartoon kid

It might not make sense unless you know him, but I often hear myself saying (out loud and in my head), "Man, I gave birth to a cartoon."  You have got to see this kid start running.  He has two ways that make him go "really fast."  One is to twist his body, both fists go back to one side, and then he takes off (think: Tom and Jerry).   The other is to start running in place and then take off (think: the Flinstones).  

   

Here he is at the playground.  Crossing the wobbly things while eating two popsicles.  Totally determined to cross, hold, and eat them at the same time.

Just to capture this I tried to make a mental note of the things the said from the time he got out of the tub to the time he fell asleep (less than an hour):

(Holding his water bottle)  Mom!  This is a peanut butter sprayer!

Wow, Sam!  (If you have ever made the mistake of not acknowledging what he is saying, you know that he will say it over and over and over)

(Putting the bottle in his towel with him) Mom!  Guess what is in my coat?

What, Sam?

A peanut butter sprayer!  

Wow!

(Wrapping it up like a present.  He is OBSESSED with presents) What is in this present?  It's a peanut butter sprayer!

(What is a peanut butter sprayer anyway?)

(Watching me put Eva's "night shirt" on her.  The kids sleep in old t-shirts sometimes.  It works)  I want that shirt.  

Okay, Sam.  Eva, I will get you a different one. (I had another that fit her better, anyway).

(Skipping ahead.  It consisted of a lot of, "Samuel, get back here!"s and "Knock it off"s)

(Holding his flashlight/level/screwdriver/bestfriend-for-the-last-two-weeks and a little spinning light from the skating rink) I want to read with these.  

(Turn off the lights, we climb in his bed, and read with the tiny lights that are driving my crazy.  Reading with a tiny light and another flashing light is annoying.  He names all the vehicles in his book, argues the names of some of them with me.  Finally finish.  I drop the book and the lights on the floor.)  I want to put those away.

(What?  Clean up?  Who are you?)  You can put them away in the morning.

No.  I want to put them away right now.

Say your prayer.

(He says his prayer which ALWAYS includes something about presents and opening presents.  Finish)  When will it be Easter, Christmas and Halloween?  (Good days for presents?)

Uh, in a long time, Samuel.

How many tomorrows?

About 150. 

Like, eight hundred four five thousand?  (To Samuel, 800 is the biggest number there is.  Always.)

Yes.

What are you wearing?  

(Huh?) My pajamas.

Are you wearing your clothes under your pajamas?

Um.  Uh... no, those are my garments.

What are garments?

Uh... those are Mommy underwear.

(Thinking)  What if I had kid garments?

Uh...

Kid garments with Batman on them?

Uh...

I am going to put my flashlights away.  (Phew, thanks for changing that subject)

(Loud thunder outside)  That seriously scares me.

Come here, I will protect you in my arms.

And there will be needles.  (Thinking) And arrows.  Fire arrows!  And bombs!

(I guess he doesn't need my arms anymore)  

Daddy said we can make cupcakes and popcorn and have a movie theater tomorrow.  The kind with swirls.  (Wow, Dad, really?)

Wow.  (He has been begging me to make cupcakes all day.  Mean mom keeps saying no).

You can have a cupcake.  

Thanks.

They will like it.

Like what?

The party.  

Oh. (And who is "they?"  But, whatever).

You shouldn't get mad at me.  

(Guilt) Yes.  But, I get mad when you don't listen.

Well, if you don't get mad then I will give you a gumball. 

 Okay, but you have to listen to me, then. 

Okay, but you have to NEVER get mad at me.  (Sweet deal, right?  He is going to listen AND I get a gumball).

What if I had holes all over me?

(Gross)  I don't know.  That would hurt.

What if I had pickles all in me?

(Gross)  I don't know.  

Then I would die.  (Rolls over on his stomach, props his head up with his arms, chin in his hands.  The ultimate thinking position).  But when Jesus comes I will die.  

(Oh man.  Think, Christina, think!)  You won't die because Jesus comes.  He will wait for you but he won't make you die.  (Oh man.  I am not ready for this kind of conversation.  Someone, please help me out here). 

Well, Jesus will disappear all the holes.  Then I won't die.  

Uh.. Yeah.

Jesus can do all of those things like that.  

Yeah.  

What if... (I am asleep.  Don't know what he said).

I don't know, ask Dad.

Daddy is working.  I hate it when Daddy goes to work (He really does, he follows him out the door every time he leaves and yells, "Don't go!"  He chases him to the end of our yard).

I know, Samuel.

I can't ask him when the door is shut.  (That is the rule.  When the door to Karl's "office" downstairs is shut, he can't be interrupted).

(Glad that he understands that rule.  In theory).  You're right, Sam.

Daddy works all the time and I hate it.

I know you hate it, Sam.

Rub my back.  Rub my side. (When I tickle him with my finger nails, he calms down.  It would drive me crazy, but he has loved it ever since he was a baby).  

(I am falling asleep.  Thinking I AM rubbing his side)  No, rub my SIDE.

Show me where your side is. 

Right here.  (His ribs).

Go to sleep Samuel.  I love you.

I love you eight hundred four five four five four five...

(Then he is asleep in seconds).

 

Where do all his thoughts come from?  The questions were coming at me so fast!  The crazy part might be that I can only remember about two thirds of his comments.  I know that I said go to sleep at least 3 more times.  When I am putting him down, I ALMOST always fall asleep before he does.  While he is still talking.  

And here is the part that gets me...  I slip out of Samuel's room.  Eva, in the next room, while waiting for her turn to hear a book, has fallen asleep.   Once again.  So sorry.

Oh, and this I don't want to forget:

The other night Samuel woke up freaking out that his leg hurt.  He said that the paper (he often clears his throat.   Says it feels like there is a piece of paper stuck in there) was making his leg hurt.  Totally freaking out.  We were at a loss.  Tylenol (he didn't want it), ice pack (of course, it had Lightning McQueen on it), rubbing... Still freaking out.  So, Karl starts trying to distract him.  

Hey, Samuel, do you remember helping me today?  You did such a good job digging the holes and filling them back up!

Dad?

Huh?

Dad, I seriously hate helping you.  (Freak out some more).

(We offer several more things and finally come down to this) Do you want a Karl Special (a grilled cheese sandwich with ketchup.  Usually eaten at 2 a.m. while watching TV.  Really.  We are still up and Samuel wakes up every night at 2 a.m.)?

Yes.  (In one single motion, leaps from the bed and is on Karl's back) Now this is making me feel better!

 

This photo was taken a while back of the boys enjoying a "Karl Special" a few months back.  The photo does not show the look of satisfaction a kid has when he gets to a) be up at 2 am b) be watching TV and c) eat a cheese sandwich.