Say what?


“Go to bed!”

I instructed for the umpteenth time that evening.

Without missing a beat he replied “This is my bed. Daddy’s shoe.” And he then proceeded to put his head down on said shoe and not go to sleep there either. As Husband moved his foot around on the floor so the little head and body scooted around after it so he could continue lying on “his bed.”

I often catch him telling himself the things I tell him;

“Sit nicely.”

“Eat properly.”

“Be careful.”

I’m pleased to say he is as disobedient to his own suggestions as he is to mine. It just baffles me that he bothers. It would seem that he clearly knows what he should do but then he just doesn’t.

This morning he stood next to my bed and started turning his head as if he was looking around. “Who pop popped?” He asked no one in particular, his hands extended skywards next to his ears whilst searching the darkened room for the pop pop perpetrator.

“Oh.” he continued after the briefest of pauses “I need to go toilet.”. As if the whole thing had come as a complete surprise to him.

He often has whole conversations with himself. “Where’s Daddy gone?” he’ll ask himself. “I don’t know.” he’ll answer first up. Then  “Oh, he may have gone outside. I better go look for him.” And off he will set on his mission, with the goal oriented mindset of a man that knows his business.

“Where’s the water gone?” is another line of questioning I have heard him subject himself to. “Oh, I ate it all.” He reminds himself, immediately cracking under the pressure of the inquisition style scrutiny he was applying to himself. “I’ll go fill it up.” he reassures us all. Apparently he doesn’t need me for this conversation.

On the odd occasion that he does need me to do his bidding I am rewarded for my compliance with the enthusiastic encouragement of “Good boy!” despite numerous attempts to inform him that I am not.

He often speaks to me using the uniquely his nickname of “Mummy boy”. I don’t really know what to do with that.

The other morning he opened his eyes, looked straight at me then jumped out of the bed and dashed through the door. Down the passageway and straight into the kitchen he hurtled slamming into one of the cupboards as he came to the end of his runway. “I WIN!” he bellowed at top volume in case anyone in the neighbourhood was in any doubt.

You sure did son, I think the only question here is what?

*Original image from youtube.


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