Common Conversations with My Toddler

Toddler: Dad, can we listen to the Thomas song?

Me, wincing: Like the train? You want the Thomas song?

Toddler: Yeah!

Me, not wanting to destroy the young human’s spirit, but also dreading the next fifteen minutes as the song is played on loop: Okay, buddy. I’ll tell the robot to play the song.

Toddler, already dancing: Thanks!

Me, muttering: If you weren’t so adorable.

Toddler, singing: Thomas and his friends!

Me, fifteen minutes later: We need to pick a new song, big guy! What do you want?

Toddler: uh..uh…uh…um.. Thomas!

Me: Fiddle sticks. One last time.

Toddler: Yeah! Thanks!

 

 

Thanks for reading!
On a totally not parenting note, my brother, my buddy, my bride and I started a podcast. Find out more right here: https://cursedbydice.wordpress.com/

 

Frank at the Station

The family road trip was one tank in and going well.

“Alrighty, gang, we have to stop for gas real quick,” Frank Jenkins said, pulling the SUV he found to be just a tad too large, into the gas station.

“Dad,” his oldest son, seven years, Theodore, started.  Frank knew the tone as one that came with a very lengthy question. “Why do cars need gas?”

“Well,” Frank started, relived that the question was actually fairly easy, “engines need gas to run.  Gas is a fuel, which is burned to help the car move.”

“Oh,” Theodore was content with the answer.  “What is the engine made of?”

“An engine is made of smaller components that come together to make the whole unit, but I think you’re asking a different question so I’ll answer with…metal?” Frank hoped he answered the query correctly.

“Oh,” The curious seven year old replied.

“Dad!” The highly enthusiastic three year old of the family, Hyde, shout asked his opening question, “what are people made of?”

Frank stared at Hyde, trying not to laugh.  “You should ask you mother.”  He looked to Elene in the passenger seat, smiled and quickly jumped out of the car to begin fueling.

The Name Game

“We can’t mess this up.  This is something the wee one will have forever!” Baxter said, stressing the importance of his goal.

“That’s why I don’t want to name the baby Optimus or Sunflower Ray,” Betty made her case.

The name debate continued for weeks.  Names were tossed back and forth.  Some names were tossed aside because of personal historic connections.  Some were just dumb.  Each name was intensely reviewed and discussed like it was all that mattered.  Finally the baby was born and the name was absolute perfection.

Years passed and Baxter, Better and Bobbi were excited to discover a fourth member of the family would soon join them.

“What do you want to name baby two?” Baxter asked.

“How about Bill?” Betty suggested.

“Good enough. I’m off to the gym,” Baxter said, grabbing a duffel bag and chomping into a dougnut. “Be nice to mom, Bobbi. Bye bye.”

(Thankfully not as) Common Conversations with my Toddler

Me, eating cheese and crackers as the children play: Good golly this is delicious.

Toddler, running to me as the word ‘delicious’ fills the air: Dad! Dad!

Me, speaking with my mouth full like a monster: Yeah, buddy?

Toddler: What are you doing?

Me: Eating a little snack.

Toddler: I’m playing.

Me, prepping another cracker and cheese miracle combo: Having loads of fun?

Toddler: Yeah. I’m going to have that one.

Toddler proceeds to take the cracker from my hand and runs back to playing.

Me:

 

 

Common Conversations with My Toddler

Me: Hey, buddy, let’s play with Legos!

Toddler: Okay. I will make a sword.

Me: Well, let’s aim for something less violent, okay? How about we make a farm?

Toddler: Yeah. With a sword.

Me: No swords. Farm house. Or a castle?

Toddler: Yeah! Castle

Me: I am regretting this already. What sort of castle should we build?

Toddler: One with swords.

Me: Sigh.

Toddler: Okay?

Me: One sword. Let’s play.

Myth Battles 

The firstborn is really, really into Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Olympians series.  Thank goodness, because that is one very good series of books, and the little human’s interest in history (godly or not) is picking up.  Win win situation.

As this is the current “it” item in our home, we’re pretty inundated with Percy Jackson.  Play time is dedicated to Olympian sword fights, taking down Ares and trying to find Pan.  Drive time does not escape the story either as we’re making our way through the series in audio book form.

The audio books are amazingly well done.  The narrator keeps the pace going, gives each character (a whole pantheon it seems) their own voice and acts out scenes with incredible skill.  The firstborn loves it.  He’s completely enamored with listening to the book read by someone who isn’t me trying to stay awake and fumbling over words.

The toddler though.  Oh golly the toddler.  The youngest is not exactly a “sit and listen” type.  From time to time (read: every drive) he just yammers, shouts, and generally makes noise for the sole purpose of impeding his older brother’s story intake.  When this happens, the story is paused until the toddler calms down and we can listen again.

Sometimes it takes a whole drive for the toddler to allow the story to play out.  This is wildly upsetting to the firstborn and we parents hear, “can we play the story now?” over and over again in increasingly impatient tones.

This was a problem.  I like solving problems.  So, for those moments in the car that we can’t listen to the hijinx of one Perseus Jackson, the firstborn can now play the part.
Continue reading

The Difference is Subtle

Saturday, 5:57am.  

“You’re up early, big guy,” Steve greeted his son with a whisper.  “Let’s change you and go downstairs.  We’re going to be quiet though so your mommy can sleep, okay?”

“Yeah,” Daxon answered with a head nod.

The two were as quiet as could be.  Steps downstairs were plotted to take place on the least creaky of the floor board.  Light switches were flipped slowly to avoid a thundering click if switched too fast.  Once downstairs, morning cartoons ran with sound just barely audible.  Steve smiled as he held his son close, knowing his beloved wife was resting soundly upstairs.

Sunday, 6:15am.

“Daxon,” Beata shouted, “you are up so early, man. Let’s brush your teeth and get breakfast ready. Okay? It’ll be a nice treat for daddy. We’ll let him sleep in a bit.”

“Yeah!” Daxon said, clapping with joy.

Beata and Daxon ran the tap at full volume to prepare their toothbrushes.  Pots were clattered and clanged as breakfast prep began.  Daxon raced back and forth from stove to pantry getting supplies requested at full shout from Beata.

“Heya, babe, you can keep sleeping. Daxon and I got this,” Beata said as Steve lumbered into the kitchen.

“Nah, nah, I think I’m good.  It’s 6:18 in the morning. I couldn’t get back to sleep if I wanted to,” Steve answered, his eyes puffy from a fatigue that would long after Daxon moved out of the house.

 

Thanks for reading!