It’s upsetting. I think my little boy is officially no longer a baby.
Yesterday I had to buy him some new clothes (yet another growth spurt…you’d think this would slow down. He’s as tall as most 5 year olds). He was complaining about how the shirts were hurting his armpits and the socks his toes.
I went looking in the toddler clothes. Nothing was going to fit.
So I walked over to ‘Boys.’
There I found clothes. Tons of clothes. Clothes that would fit him. And it wasn’t even the smallest size always. He’s wearing them today. After a wash they couldn’t fit better…I might’ve even been able to get away (in some cases) with going up a size.
I was shocked at how sad it made me to have to leave the baby section. And he’s not even 3. I thought it would hold off till at least preschool.
************************************************************
His vocabulary often is filled with unintended humor.
His little cousin, the Princess, was screaming her head off. Had been most of the day. And he walked over and said “Pwincess,* you are being inappwopwiate.” Apparently he does know the meaning of the word, because he uses it whenever he feels someone has done something that wasn’t the right thing to do. Nothing like being told you are ‘inappropriate’ by someone who has poopie pants.
He had been listening to a conversation between one of his grandmothers and myself. She was talking about someone taking offense. “Gwamma taked a fence. I not know where my fence goed (meaning the one to a playset that he tossed across the room and is stuck behind his dresser). Gwamma needs to give back mine fence.” We’ve tried to tell him that ‘offense’ and ‘a fence’ meant two totally different things. But he will not be swayed. He’s even told her that she’s going on Santa’s naughty list, like Swiper did. It’s very hard not to laugh. He seems so serious.
*****************************************************************************
He’s been having some wretched nightmares. Last night he was up about 5 times screaming bloody murder. It only stopped when I gave up and just pulled out his bed (it changes to a full) and slept with him. Then I could feel him startle in his sleep, breathing heavily and sweating, flailing to find me. When his little chubby baby hand found were I was, he’d snuggle in and go back to sleep, whispering, “mommy…mommy…” He never remembers what scared him. He only remembers that he was scared. Very scared. And he wants to—no, he HAS to—make sure we are all still there. If he wakes up fully and screaming he has to see Daddy. To touch him and know he is there, warm, and sleeping. He has to see the dogs, and pet one’s back, hold the other’s tail. Poor kid.
*He used her real name.
3 comments:
I know what you mean about them growing up and not being babies anymore. For some reason, this has become painfully evident recently to the point where I just want to hold Monkey all of the time because I know one day he'll shun that kind of attention.
BTW, the "inappropriate" story is hilarious!
Awww. Poor guy with the nightmares!
I remember when I first had to go the Girls section of the store instead of the baby/toddler section. I was also sad, so I totally understand.
And "Nothing like being told you are ‘inappropriate’ by someone who has poopie pants" is hilarious!
Crossing the aisle to the big kid clothes HURTS.
Post a Comment