Toddler wisdom…

I’ve always loved TV and articles with quotes from kids. They always seem to have the right idea for solving the challenge of the day, with or without crayons. My little genius is proving to be the new star of one-liners in the family.

Every time I have a conversation with him lately I can’t help but think of the day I took him for a hearing assessment. Shortly after his second birthday, we went for his regular check up. I’ve figured out he takes life at his own pace, he didn’t walk till 18 months but he had a full set of teeth by his first birthday. A lesson in priorities I’m sure. At this point, it has become a mild concern that he’s not yet talking. After a laundry list of questions, my paediatrician gives me a referral to have his hearing tested. *cue mild panic*

At the time of her death, my Grams was mostly deaf. She wore her hearing aids when she felt like it, and you better believe she heard what she wanted to hear – with or without them. I was always convinced her “hearing problem” was selective, but closer to the end when it was difficult for her to communicate at all I realised the far reaching effects. Long story short, his assessment took two visits to complete, and proved to be normal. One term of preschool later, some things are still near impossible to understand but he’s a very good conversationalist when he’s interested in what you have to talk about. Fast forward to now… we’re in our second year of preschool and I pray for moments when he will simply shut up for longer than 5 seconds. Considering where we started this journey, I am grateful but still very tired.

His new favourite game is to take his pillow pet (which must stay in my room for MY protection, he says) from my bed and run off to hide it. He comes running back with a very creepy evil-genius-type laugh, “you’re too late mummy! You’ll never find him now!!” *insert creepy laugh here – think Vincent Price meets the Count from Sesame Street* At this point I have to be the damsel in distress, terribly worried about my missing puppy (which is actually a lion). He now switches to the hero role of the story and runs off to “rescue the puppy” from the evil genius. “MUMMY I FOUND HIM!!!” and a triumphant run back into my room so that I can hug my puppy and give him his hero’s kiss. This process must be repeated no less than five times before he is satisfied, and mummy cannot resume reading her book until then.

Last night he came into my room and climbed into bed with me. He curled up beside me with a very thoughtful expression on his face and asked “Mummy, what’s college?” You’d have to understand beforehand that one of his favourite shows is Blue’s Clues, and last night the “Steve Goes To College” episode was on repeat. So I attempted an explanation along the lines of a school you go to when you’re bigger and learn all sorts of cool stuff and get a degree. Trying to score some blatant self-serving cool points, I did throw in the whole bit that Mummy went to college and got two degrees (emphasis on the two for effect). He played along with the “WOOOWW!! COOOL!!” response. I love that kid. So naturally I went on to ask him if he wanted to go to college when he grows up. I got an emphatic “YEAH!!” so I figured I’d pick his little brain some more. “What do you want to get your degree in? Math? Science? Rocket ships?” A few moments of that thoughtful look and he sat up, looked me in the eye and firmly announced “CHRISTMAS TREES!”. Who am I to destroy a 3 y-o dreams of graduating from college with a degree in Christmas trees??

His Godmother has assured me that he will most surely be the Richard Branson of Christmas Trees if he so chooses. I am now picturing the market for Christmas Trees in space. Don’t ask… I’m not quite sure either. It could have been worse – he could have asked where babies come from…

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