Unfortunately, Jack woke up this morning a much sicker little boy.  His temperature hasn’t gotten too high (yet) but his energy level has plummeted and he has spent the entire morning laying on the couch drifting in and out of sleep.  On most days I am pulling him out from under Avery’s bed, removing fingernail polish from his lips, wiping lotion off his clothing, wrangling gum from his hands, and essentially blocking him from accomplishing all sorts of damaging conquests throughout my house. 

But today is very different.  It’s both odd and disconcerting to see such a change in his temperament.  He wants me to sit with him, stroke his furry little head and let him smell my shirt.  Yes.  It’s weird and kind of creepy but it’s comforting and makes him happy.  Me, not so much.  He has thrown up in my hand after a coughing fit and then proceeded to tell me I smelled bad.  What a charmer.  We’ve had all kinds of conversations and I’ve gotten a real glimpse into what makes this little guy tick. 

They have gone something like this:

Jack:  I wanna watch Backyardigans.  ‘Kay?

Me:  Sure, no problem.

Jack:  Which one are you?

Me:  Pardon?

Jack:  Which guy are you?  I’m da blue one. Which one are you gonna be?

Me:  Um, I don’t know.  The pink one?

Jack:  Nope.  Not dat one.

Me:  Why not?

Jack:  ‘Cause dat ones a girl.  And you a mom.

Me:  Mom’s are girls.  

Jack:  No.  Mom’s aren’t girls.  Mom’s are moms. 

Me:  Fine, Jack.  Which one do you want me to be?

Jack:  Um…I fink…um.  You can be…um…da pink one.

Me:  Perfect.  Thanks.

Or something like this:

Jack:  Why come Lewis don’t wear clothes no more? 

Me:  Lewis is a dog.  He never wears clothes.

Jack:  Yeah him does.  Him has clothes.  Where dey go? 

Me:  Jack, he has fur.  His fur is his clothes.

Jack:  No.  Him’s fur isn’t clothes.  It’s fur.

Me:  Okay, Jack.  Got it.

And this was the latest during a particularly snuggly moment:

Jack:  How come you has boobs?  Big ones.

Me:  Because I’m a girl.  I’m a mommy.  Don’t worry about it.

Jack:  Yours is big. 

Me:  Thanks, Jack. Let’s not worry about mommy’s boobs.

Jack:  Hmm.  How come they squishy?

Me:  Because, Jack.  Please let’s not worry about it. 

Jack: Well, I wike ‘em. 

Me:  Thanks.

So, as you can see it’s been a very interesting day filled with comfort, joy and scintillating conversation. 

I’m exhausted.

Love to all, Mindy