My 5-year-old takes me on flights of fancy.
“How you make wood, Mama,” he said, whittling away, “is you carve little bits like this. I have to make little wood pieces. I have to wait a couple minutes or hours for it to dry out because did you know that wood from a stick is wet? I’m making a house. Do you see all the progress I’ve made?”
Later, on a completely random and unrelated note, he remarked, “If my belly button were cut off, a bunch of food would come out.”
My two-year-old, on the other hand, takes me down paths of pandemonium.
Notez bien the look in those eyes.
The kid is cute but TROUBLE.
His latest “thing” is sneaking out of house, usually wearing only a diaper. We need to keep the doors locked but who remembers to do that? He also talks nonstop but to his credit, a good 50% of his speech is coherent.
Yesterday, we were running an errand and he was insistently sharing an observation.
“Dey Wots da Kozz.”
“That’s right,” I said cheerfully, having NO CLUE.
“Dey Wots da Kozz!”
“Mmm-hmm,” I said, gripping the steering wheel more tightly.
“DEY WOTS DA KOZZ!”
Fast approaching the brink of total cranial explosion, I wracked my brains for an adequate translation. “There are lots of cars?” I asked, ever hopeful.
“Yeah,” he responded and I exhaled, relieved.
At the very least, the rest of his body was contained.