my boys

It is 8:00 am Friday morning, I am home and hooking S up with the Backyardigans (or "backyard begins," as he calls them) so I can shower. J is still in bed trying to recover from the EMU cd marathon combined with 5 gigs in one week and finishing up his first session of after-school songwriting at Willow Run.

The cartoon starts (begins) and S says, "I don't really like the dancing."
"Really?" I ask, "I think it's kind of cute."
"No," he says, shaking his head, "but, " (waving his hand dismissively in the air around his right ear) "whatever."
WHATEVER? Holy Mother of God. I've just been whatever-ed by my two-year-old.

Secretly, I was proud to see that he could tell it was a dumb argument and was willing to drop it even though I didn't say he was right. Also, I think it shows that he knows it's pointless to try to get me to change my mind. Also, this may be an indication that he's more like his Dad, and won't follow any stupid line of thought relentlessly to its ultimate, usually pointless, conclusion.

So I showered, we watched the rest of the show - which is actually hilarious and charming, with surprisingly good music - played pirates, ate sandwiches, got dressed, and began to wonder about Papa. S took his flashlight (which, incidentally, is now his constant companion. This can be especially frustrating at 6 am, when he comes hulking up the stairs with a hoodie over one arm and the giant flashlight in the other, like some kind of midget Dragnet guy, to rip me brutally from sleep by jumping on me and shining it directly in my eyes. "Why are you hiding Mama? That hurt you heart?" No, buddy, just my eyes.) upstairs to interrogate my, still-sleeping, partner in crime.

"Why you sleeping, Papa?"
"Mrghphnmrr."
"What you said? You are awake now? Let's go paint."
"I can't."
"Why? What happened to you? Are you stuck?"
"I did the hokey-pokey and I put my whole self in. Now I can't get it out."

giggles

"I can help you, Papa. I'm really brave and strong."