And People Wonder Why I'm Losing My Mind

This is a conversation I had with Charlie on the way to school yesterday morning. A car had been pulled over on the highway by a patrolman with flashing lights and everything. Naturally, our curiosity was peaked.

'Mommy, why did the po po pull over that car?'
I'm not sure Charlie, maybe they were going too fast.
'Why were they going too fast?'
I don't know why they were going too fast.
'Why don't you know?'
Charlie, I'm not sure if that's why they even got pulled over.
'How come?'
Because I'm not in the car with them.
'How come?'
Because I'm in the car with you.
'Why?'
Who would drive if I wasn't driving? (I thought answering a question with a question would throw him off. No such luck.)
'So why did that driver get pulled over?'
I don't know why.
'Mommy, tell me every reason why they would be pulled over by the po po.'
(Sigh.) Charlie, I don't know.
'How come you don't know?'
Charlie, most people get pulled over by the po po because they are speeding.
'Do they get a ticket?'
Yes, then they get a ticket for speeding.
'How come?'
Because speeding is against the law.
'What's against the law?'
There are rules that we have to follow and if you don't listen, the po po will pull you over and give you a ticket.
'Why would they give you a ticket?'
Charlie, can we please just be quiet and listen to the music.
'Why?'
Because Mommy is about to go crazy.
'How come?'
Seriously, you have to stop asking questions.
'But why?'
CHARLIE, STOP TALKING. PLEASE.
'Okay, Mama.'
(Guilty feelings ensue followed by emotional eating.)

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

One of the things that amazes me about kids is their honesty.  While it can be a difficult pill to swallow, the commentary is usually spot on and pretty amusing.  Like when Charlie admonishes me for driving too fast and warns that the 'po po' are going to pull me over and give me a ticket.  Or when he tells Brian he smells like 'super stinky penis butt' after a run.

This past week we've noticed a departure from the blunt force honesty.  It started with a few minor incidents.  I heard the baby crying from the kitchen so in I ran, foolishly asking Charlie what happened.  Last week he would have openly confessed, 'I pushed Gregory off the stool.  Sorry, Mommy.'  The fact that he was not sorry at all is immaterial, the point is, he was honest about what happened.  This week, with his shit eating grin and hand still on the back of Gregory's neck, my little boy looked at me with innocent brown eyes and said, 'I don't know what happened, Mama?  I think he fell.'  Right, and I have a bridge to sell you in Brooklyn.

As the week progressed, Charlie upped the ante.  My mother in law is in town for spring break.  She was buckling Charlie into the car seat, I was on the other side helping Gregory into his.  Charlie said, 'Mommy, I have to tell you something.'  

What honey?  

'It's something that Nani (my mother in law) did that I didn't like.'  

My mother in law and I are both baffled and have no idea what he's going to say.  

'Nani spit at me and Gregory.  She spit at us and I didn't like it at all.'

My mother in law is aghast.  I say, Charlie Goldstein, are you sure you're telling the truth?

'Yes, I am.  Nani spit.'

My mother in law's face is literally next to his with a look that could maim or possibly even kill her first born grandchild.  But she calmly states, 'Charlie, I do not spit.  It is not nice.  Perhaps you're thinking of yesterday when you spit at me.'  

Oh, snap.  He did spit at her the day before because she tried to help him to his room to get dressed for school.  

With no response from her accuser, Nani asked, 'Charlie, is that what you're telling Mommy about, when you spit at me?'

Charlie can't even look her in the eye, he stares straight ahead and says, 'Nani, I'm done.  This discussion is over.'

We duck behind the car to hide our laughter.  But as we pull out of the driveway, the reality of the situation hits and I become somber.  The age of innocence is over.  My son has graduated from fibber to bold faced liar in exactly 3 days.  At this rate, by the time Charlie is 5, he's going to be telling me he doesn't know how that dent got on the bumper of my car or why the inside reeks of beer.  My husband often likes to say, go big or go home.  Or in Charlie's case, lie big and admit to nothing.

Pretty Pink Packages

Many of us, for better or for worse, have alter egos. They come out when we're drunk, stressed, overtired, in Vegas, etc. I've talked about Charlie's Jekyll and Hyde routine, mostly of Hyde and his constant torturing of Charlie's younger brother. But this past weekend we actually got to meet his version of Jekyll - you know, the good one.

We went to visit friends for an early dinner on Sunday. They have a daughter who is about 2 months older than Gregory. As big and boyish as Gregory is, she is just as dainty and demure. She is their only child and definitely the princess of her castle.

I'm always a little tentative when we take the boys to someone's home. Their aggressive behavior usually has a shock and awe effect on both parent and child alike. 'Wouldn't they feel more comfortable coloring at the table instead of on the walls?' Hey, there's a reason the word 'washable' has been placed on those markers. Or, 'Perhaps they could roll the ball instead of throwing it directly at his face?' You want your kid to play like a girl, then have him play with girls.

I wasn't sure if the newly acquired play structure in our friend's backyard would alleviate or add to my feelings of apprehension. Granted it was for toddlers so it could keep the boys occupied while I downed a glass or 3 of chardonnay. But it was just high enough for an adorable little 18 month old girl to obtain her first round of stitches or broken bones, especially if helped along by a certain 3 1/2 year old boy.

Charlie ran Gregory over on his way out to the backyard like he was at Filene's Basement Running of the Brides bridal gown sale. He then tried to push him backwards off the ladder. When that didn't thwart Gregory's efforts, Charlie kicked him in the face as he went down the slide head first.

Fortunately the chardonnay and yummy appetizers were doing wonders for my blood pressure. But my dwindling tentativeness quickly spiked to pure panic as 'the princess' decided it was her turn to go down the slide. How was this going to go? Would our friends ask us to leave before or after they iced and bandaged their daughter's precious head? Would dinner wind up being a trip through the McDonald's drive thru on our way home?

Before I could say, "Charlie, let's remember our gentle hands." Pixie princess, dressed in her floral green and pink sweatsuit complete with matching shoes and hair tie, teetered up the ladder and was sitting at the top of the slide, waiting. Prior to this moment, she had never been allowed to go down the slide unassisted. Charlie was at the bottom saying, 'Come on, come on. I'll catch you.' The parents are hovering, trying to determine if they should entrust their daughter's wellbeing to a preschooler, let alone a preschooler with a well documented history of ill behavior towards toddlers. I'm hovering myself, wondering if Charlie is channeling Jekyll or Hyde and does one of them know CPR?

Everyone was on high alert as our friends only child comes down the slide and is caught in the arms of the most adorable, competent, chivalrous 3 1/2 year old on this good green Earth. The icing on the cake was the, 'Great job you little cutie.' I'm not sure if shock or relief registered first, but who cares, she was alive, in one piece, and with no visible injuries or blood stains on her outfit, the same could not be said of Charlie's brother.

We learned a lot from the experience. 1. Charlie is a kind, sweet boy with the ability to be amazingly gentle (we knew this, but were in desperate need of a reminder) 2. From this point forward, Gregory will be dressed from head to toe in pink. Our own little social experiment of sorts.