Friday, August 10, 2012

Of Course...

Theo came out of the womb wanting to rule the world. So the following conversation shouldn't have surprised me in the least:

Me: Theo, you need to go put your shoes on now.
Theo (in that dramatic whine that four-year-olds are so good at): Why?
Me (exasperated after a day of arguing over every little thing): Because I'm the mommy, and I make the rules.
Theo: What number do I have to be (a.k.a. how old do I have to be) to make the rules?

Theo will not accept vague answers, such as, "When you're living on your own someday" or "When you're a parent," so I told him 30. That gives us 26 more years until he starts his attempt to take over the world. :-)

Well, Yes...That's Good Behavior

I took the boys to Target the other day, against my better judgment. Neither of my boys likes to shop. Sam tends to fuss and cry throughout the store, and Theo resists holding my hand (but then gets distracted by every display and dawdles like crazy as we try to make it through the store) and whines about everything. Nevertheless, I needed a couple of things at Target, so off we went. Theo was acting up in the car, and despite his distaste for shopping, I also knew he was bored and wanted the distraction of going in the store. So we had this chat:

Me: Theo, you're acting up right now. Knock it off, or we're not going in the store.
Silence, as he ignores me. 
Me: Theo, are you listening? I will not take you in the store if you misbehave. Do you understand?
Theo: Yes...
Me (knowing that Theo needs very explicit instructions for things): So you need to use good behavior in the store. Do you know what good behavior is?
Theo: Yes. No fussing and no pulling down your pants.

I was a bit taken aback, as I hadn't expected "pulling down your pants" to be part of the response. I was thinking more of "hold Mommy's hand and no fussing." Then it dawned on me: The last time Chris took the boys to Target, he turned around to tend to fussy Sam for a moment, and when he turned back around, Theo was standing in the checkout line with his pants down! Chris said, "Theo, what are you doing?!" and Theo calmly replied, "I need to go potty." And a discussion of when it's appropriate to pull down your pants ensued.
So for future reference, good behavior equals no whining and no pulling down your pants in the checkout line!

The Professor Speaks

Theo very often sounds like a little old man when he talks. Supposedly that's a sign of Asperger's syndrome, and since Theo is supposedly on the autism spectrum...well, maybe that explains it. Or maybe it's just Theo and has nothing to do with autism or Asperger's. Either way, it's one of the traits that I found most amusing and endearing about him. A little, cherubic four-year-old with big, guileless eyes spouting professor-speak is pretty entertaining. Last night, while on a walk, we had this conversation:

Theo: Are there rabbits in the bushes, Mom?
Me: There might be.
Theo: Can I hug them?
Me: Probably not. Some rabbits are wild, and you can't hug those. You can only hug a rabbit that's someone's pet.
Theo: Will the rabbit shake the bushes when he comes out?
Me: He might.
Theo: I need to go home and check my paperwork about this.
Me: You have paperwork about rabbits in bushes?
Theo: Yeah, Mom. My papers. And my books. I need to look this up in my books at home.

I was really curious to see what books he planned to consult about the subject, but alas, he had forgotten about it by the time we got home....

The Allure of the Sewer

I usually enjoy Theo's obsessions. For a while it was plants, which I enjoy. Then music, which I also enjoy. Lately it's numbers, which are also reasonably interesting. But his newest obsession befuddles me: sewers. I cannot tell you how many times a day he asks about sewers, and how much time he spends talking about them. Something like this occurs multiple times every day:

Theo: Mommy, what's that?
Me: Theo, you know what that is.
Theo: A sewer!!
Me: Yup.
Theo: What's in the sewer, Mommy?
Me: I don't know. Why don't you tell me?
Theo: Um...some sticks and leaves. And pee and poop. And scary mans!
Me: Okay... [praying that the sewer discussion is over]
Theo: What number do I have to be [a.k.a. how old do I have to be] to go in the sewer?
Me (knowing that a vague answer will never fly with Theo): Twenty-two.
Theo: When I am 22, I will go in the sewer!

This is all fine and good, but now he's telling random people that when he's 22, he's going to go in the sewer. And so I have to explain that his current life goal is to work in the sewer. (He claims he's going to "plunge lots of stuff!" in there.) Alternatively, he's going to go to school to work for PG&E with "electricidity." Ah well, either one probably pays well, so go to it, my boy! But you can have your own bathroom and shower if you choose to work in the sewer....

Grandma Looks Good for Her Age!

Theo's obsession with numbers continues. One thing he often wants to know is how old people are. He keeps asking me how old I'll be on my next birthday, despite the fact that he knows the answer. (Gee, thanks for reminding me that I'll be 39, kiddo!) One morning I said, "Theo, you know how old I'll be! Why do you keep asking?"
He replied, "Thirty-nine, Mommy. How old with Grandma Kathy be on her next birthday?"
I said, "I'm not sure. You should ask Daddy when he comes home."
Theo assuredly replied, "Thirty-nine. Or maybe 40 or 41. Or 100."
Wow...that's quite a range. And I'm pretty sure none of them is the answer--especially not 100!

My Hair Is Like a...Cello Bow??

One of Theo's favorite instruments to play in music class is the cello (sized down for small hands!). His teacher, Jon, tries to show the kids that they should not touch the hair on the cello bow by showing them a bow with frayed, ratty horse hair that has been touched by one too many students. He lets the kids touch the ratty old bow and then tells them not to touch the smooth, pristine hair on the new bow. (Not the greatest idea to tell a bunch of preschoolers what not to touch, as it just makes it all the more interesting to them, but I digress...)
The other night, I was leaning over Theo as he laid in bed, reading him a book. He reached up very gently and touched a lock of my hair that was falling out of my ponytail and said reverently, "Horse hair...."
Gee, thanks!

It Has Come Back to Haunt Me

There's a parenting strategy that says you should give your child two choices, so they feel as if they have some control over their environment. For example, instead of saying, "You're having waffles for breakfast," you might say, "Would you like waffles or French toast today?" Any more than two choices, and your child may get overwhelmed, says the strategy...any fewer, and your child may be frustrated that he has no say in his own life.
This strategy actually works pretty well for us, so it's one we've used for the past few years. However, it has now come back to bite me in the rear, as Theo has figured out that he ought to be able to use it! For example, the other night he wanted to go swimming, but it was getting late and he was kind of wild and uncooperative, so I didn't feel up to the pool. So I said, "No, I think we'll go swimming tomorrow instead. It's almost bedtime." His reply?
"I have two choices: I can go swimming tonight or I can watch a show on TV!"
Notice that bedtime was nowhere in either of his choices. :-)

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Little Pitchers...

I was reminded today of that saying, "Little pitchers have big ears." Theo's new bike was on clearance, and I see now why--it's rather cheaply made. One of the pedals keeps falling off. I was griping about it under my breath, but clearly Theo heard me. A toddler in the park came up to admire Theo's new bike, and Theo said proudly, "This is a really cheap bike, isn't it?"

Beware the Pool

Recounted to me by Theo's preschool teacher:

Teacher Amanda: Theo, don't you want to go in the pool with the other kids?
Theo: No, somebody probably peed in it.

Indeed...

What Has He Been Reading?!

I had the following odd conversation with Theo the other day:

Theo: Mommy, do you put spice in the bed?
Me (wondering whether he's been reading Cosmo or something): What??
Theo: Do you put spice in the bed??
Me: No, I don't think I do.
Theo: Skippyjon Jones does. If you put spice in the bed, Mommy, you'll get a big, BIG time out!

Poor Chris. No spice in the bed for him. I don't want a big, BIG time out.

(For the record, Skippyjon Jones is a fictional Siamese cat in one of his books. Who apparently puts spice in the bed and gets in trouble for it!)

Theo's New Life Goal

Theo asks me all the time what number he needs to be to do various things--in other words, how old he needs to be. And he will not accept a vague answer. One of his favorites is, "What number do I have to be to make the rules?" (I told him 30--are we surprised that he wants to make the rules?!) Another one of his favorites is, "What number do I have to be to go to the stars (a.k.a. die)." We go with 100 for that one--might as well have him live to a very ripe old age. But his newest obsession, for whatever reason, is, "What number do I have to be to go in the sewer?"

I went with 22 on that one. If he aspires to be a sewer worker, more power to him. He'll have his very own shower if that's the case....

He's Not My Son

Yesterday, I was driving Theo to his OT appointment, and he asked me a question I've gotten a lot from him. But the conversation took an amusing turn:

Theo: Mommy, have you met Paulina?
Me: No, but I wish I had. What's Paulina like?
Theo: I like penises.
Me: What??
Theo: I like the peas. And Tico likes the carrots. And Mike liked the chicken.

Let me translate for you: He thought I asked what Paulina likes, rather than "what's Paulina like?" And Roxann and Mike made chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, and carrots when he was at their house for dinner on Friday...of which he apparently liked the peas (a.k.a. penises, apparently...). And this is why he's clearly not my son. Of this meal, the peas would be my least favorite. I can't possibly have created a child who likes peas....

Huh?

Have you ever had someone half asleep tell you something completely nonsensical? I'm told I once slept-walked out into the family room and started arguing with my family about them needing to give me quarters. And Theo often talks in his sleep, but we usually can't make out what he's saying. However, the other day he fell asleep after music class, and I couldn't rouse him to eat dinner. He had wet himself by then, so I needed to get his pants off and get him into a bedtime diaper. I managed to half-rouse him enough to do that, and he looked at me blearily, then narrowed his eyes and commanded, "DON'T say 'Oh my god,' Mommy! Just press the buttons on the remote and USE NICE WORDS today!"

I have no idea what that was about, but I thought it was funny that he was scolding me for taking the Lord's name in vain. I don't make a habit of that, but I'm sure I do say it on a somewhat regular basis. I had no idea Theo didn't think those were "nice words!"

Sibling Inequality

The reality of sibling inequality has set in, as evidenced by Theo's and my conversation this morning:

Me: Theo, if you're finished with your breakfast, you need to clear your plates.
Theo: Why do I need to clear my plates?
Me: Because that's your job.
Theo: Well, what's Sammy's job??
Me: Sammy needs to be able to walk before we start assigning him chores....

Poor Theo. That's going to be a while. :-)