Jed is ordering Zoe about to go look for his missing puzzle piece. Right now he is directing her to look under the couch. He sounds exactly like his mother. But I suppose at least he is doing it politely.
This morning he came up to me and said:
"Mom, I went ahead and spilled some water on the kitchen floor so you could clean it."
Gosh, thanks, Jed. Do you think the floor needs to be cleaned?
"Yes, mom, but you should sweep it first."
Another favorite Jed phrase is, "Wasn't it nice of me to...?" Anytime he does something even remotely praiseworthy, he immediately comes over to mom or dad and says "Wasn't it nice of me to carry my dish over to the sink?" or "Wasn't it nice of me to not take that toy away from my sister?" or "Wasn't it nice of me to put my underpants on all by myself?" Apparently he is lacking in positive reinforcement. Cute, but kind of ridiculous at time when he picks out any old thing he does and suggests that we need to praise him to the skies: "Wasn't it nice of me to walk across the room to you?"
Jed's shyness can be at times embarrassing. Yesterday he got a new teacher in Primary. For Pioneer Day we had taken all the chairs down and the kids were sitting on quilts around a little "campfire." I led singing time, and chose one of Jed's favorite songs "The Handcart Song" and we all pretended to push our handcarts. All the kids were up singing and giggling except for one -- my son, who was curled up on the floor like a turtle with his face glued to the floor. The teacher looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I shrugged, "Just leave him," there's nothing you can really do at that point for my stubborn headed little offspring. One would think he was crippled socially for life. Seriously, there is nothing less enjoyable than a birthday party with this child, one would think he was having his fingernails ripped out every time an amusing party game was introduced.
But flash back a few days earlier and there's the mail-lady at the door, trying to drop off a package, and my son has opened the door and trapped her in one of his friendly, eternal monologues, this time regarding our cars, who drives them, where they go, which ones we have sold, which ones we plan to sell, how long we've had them, how fast they drive, the minivan we plan to buy and how we plan to flip the cars to get there, etc. etc. etc. She must have politely stood there and listened for 20 minutes as the kid yakked her ear off, completely comfortable to tell this stranger the most intimate automotive details.
The ladies at the checkout lane at Aldi might as well be his best friends for life the way he greets and informs them of his latest life details each week. Old men standing in line behind us, people attempting to shop in peace, at the grocery store they are all his prey and subject to the most esoteric of discourses. Even better is if he can get a new adult into the house, where he can then proceed to show off all his latest "now I'm 4 years old!" tricks -- jumping up in the air with both feet, headstands on the couch, "flipping" various objects into the air and around the house. He is a veritable carnival of childhood delight, each trick performed with large, shining eager eyes looking to see how impressed the new victim must be at his accomplishment.
There is no shyness in this child at all. So what's with the turtle pose at church?
1 year ago