Last night, I read Mpants the infamous “Cat-in-the-Hat” by Dr. Seuss for his bedtime story. We got through the mischevious cat and everything that he can do. We got through Thing One and Thing Two. I told him those two little things reminded me of him and his brother. Running through the house. Total destruction in their wake, like two self-contained tornados.
We get to the page where the Cat-in-the-Hat comes back to pick up the mess.
I mention: “Wow, wouldn’t it be great if I had a picker-upper like that? All those hands. It would be so easy to pick things up.”
Mpants looks at me and says earnestly: “Mummy. You buy the parts. I will build that picker-upper for you.”
“Is it pretty Mummy?” Mpants asks as I survey the living room they have decorated with three rolls of toilet paper.
He looks so earnest and asks again: “Is it pretty?”
“It’s lovely sweetie. Thank you.”
We have been playing with balloons a bit before bedtime the last few nights. We try to keep them in the air with only one part of our bodies: head, foot, hands. Tonight, Mpants says: “Look Mummy. I am using my nose.” And he bounces the balloon off his nose. He continues: “Then I do a little dance.” And he wiggles his butt and flaps his arms like a chicken.
Bounce. Wiggle. Flap. Bounce. Wiggle. Flap. All around the living room.
We laugh our heads off.
Yesterday, the boys were bouncing on the trampoline playing with some super-sized pillows. I overhear Jman direct Mpants: “You be the pickle. I will be the burger.”
Squeals of laughter.
Taking a random tram ride to the outskirts of Bern, serendipitously finding a playground, climbing in a huge swing with the boys, looking up at the sky as the sun pokes through the clouds.
Jman shouting: “Higher! Higher!” as I pump my legs awkwardly while lying on my back.
Mpants squirms onto my belly and gives me a kiss: “Me love you Mommy!”
“Me love you too.” And I kiss the tops of each of their heads. We lay back in the swing and watch the clouds.
Jman sneaks a cherry tomato from the tray as I am cutting them for the salad and pops it in his mouth.
Two seconds later, he opens the drawer under the sink and spits it into the garbage.
“Blech. Blech. Blech.”
“Something wrong Jo?”
“Tastes like an old snail’s smelly fart!”
So, tonight Jman demands:”Get me a drink!”
I reprimand: “What do you say?”
“CHICKENS OBEY ME!!”
I have created a monster
One night I was talking to Jman before he went to sleep. I was telling him how his brother is really important. And how he is (or will be) his best friend and they will have a lot of great adventures together. And they will need to support each other and confide in one another. And look out for one another.
I said: “He will be your person.”
And Johnny digested that for a moment and replied: “He already is my person. He is my assistant!”