Kids Say The Darnedest Things

Kids are crazy...and brilliant.

Just last night, while changing my son's diaper, I found a penny inside; not exactly a 'rabbit out of the hat' moment, but pretty close for me. At first I was curious, then confused. But, upon further inspection (realizing there was nothing but pee inside), and the fact that it was "head's up", the powers of deduction lead me to the conclusion it was inserted there, not deposited, and I kept the coin.
What made the moment even more humorous was, during this morning's 'changing of the guard', in an obvious allusion to last evening's events, my son looked at me during wipe down and said, "Daddy, I have pennies."
Initially, I queried what might cause him to recall that insignificant moment in his life, before answering, "I know buddy, I was there. That was pretty neat."
"No daddy, I have pennis."
"I realize that. It was really fu..."
"NO, Dadd-y!" (Here it comes) "I..have..pen-is!" "Penis! Penis! Penis!"
Oh boy.
How we managed to transition from a 12-hour-old topic of innocent wizardry, to a toddler's version of pubic discovery, is beyond me. What it made me acknowledge, instead, is just how amazing, bright and hilarious the child's' mind truly is; and reflect on the fact that these little people really do say the darnedest things...

What's up, dude?
This was the first conscious example of my son's quirky, conversational tone. I had just put him in his bed, walked over and sat down on the couch, firing up my iPad, when I happened to glance up and notice him standing in his crib, legs crossed, with his arm draped lazily over the side. Looking like a Huggies-overnight-diaper-swaddled miniature James Dean, or a pre-crazy, bloated, botoxed Mickey Rourke, he took a pull from his sippy cup, nodded his head ever so coolly and uttered, "What's up, dude?"
Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that this might have been the funniest thing I had ever seen or heard him do to date, and because it was way past his bedtime, I simply played it straight and nodded back, "What's up?" What this accomplished, in his formative, impressionable, mischievous mind, was buy him more time; that, and provide license to give a voice to any, and every, variation of that phrase possible...for the next 3weeks. On this night, however, we mercifully ended our "conversation" with, "Night, dude."

No!
We transition from my favorite of phrases, to the least. We all know this one and it drives us equally insane. The 'no'.
It doesn't really matter, the request, or demand; the answer is the same...'no'.
"Let's change your diaper."
"No."
"Time to get up for daycare."
"No."
"Are you hungry?"
"No."
"Do you love me?"
"No."
"Do you love yourself, you narcissistic little..."
"..."
Where does this come from? Are they really that bent on independence from us, when they are so dependent on us? I mean, come on! He's two; not twenty two. I found myself constantly wandering aimlessly, asking, 'How did this sweet little angel morph into the devil's spawn, seemingly overnight'? Then, one day, shuffling through the living room in my mind's fog, a trail of 'No! No! No!' following me like a bad reputation, it hit me when I raised my battered, defeated head, to recognize the shadowy templates of my two pre-teen adolescents, pointing and laughing, in their smug, mocking tone. Evil is everywhere...

Guess what?
Speaking of insane...
Typically, I encourage my children to ask questions, in an effort to feed their quizzical little minds. But, there comes a time when it is deemed counter productive to the health and well-being of any of them to ask one..more..question. The 'guess what' is undoubtedly one of those times.
"Hey dad, guess what?"
"What?"
"Did you know Jacob's dog has two legs and two wheels?"
"Hey dad, guess what?"
"What?"
"Did you know I kissed a girl...and I liked it?"
"Hey dad, guess what?"
"Did you know I can drink Coke and blow it out my nose and make bubbles."
Now, that one's kind of cool.
"Hey dad, guess what?"
And on, and on, and on. I'm all for opening their minds and feeding their intellect, but sometimes it feels as if I'm stuck in the middle of a bad Jerry Maguire sequel...

The parrot
Equally as taxing on the 'patience meter' is the "parrot", or the recitation of every single thing that I say to any of my children (as if it bears repeating).
"Suzy, pick up you clothes."
"Yeah! Pick up your clothes!"
"Eat you vegetables, Dexter."
"Eat you vege-ta-blLlLlLes!"
"Go outside, Clarence."
"Go outside. Go Outside. Gooo Ouuut-SIDE!"
If I could retrain his little mind to actually follow the directives he mandates, my requests may sound more like, "I want to get dad a drink.", or "I really need to help dad with the chores." To this point he has proven much too smart to fall for such antics, and they are mere echoes off of our four walls. I am determined. I will find a way...

Shut up!
The independence previously touched upon, is quickly followed up by defiance; rude, disrespectful, vocal defiance.
"Sit down and eat."
"Shut up!"
"Go to your room."
"Shut up!"
"Stop clubbing the Chihuahua."
"Shut up!"
"You are the most awesome kid ever."
"Shut.."
Ha! It seems the old man still has some tricks up his sleeve. One of us may make it through this phase alive, after all...

You're not the boss of me
These two could probably be 1a and 1b, in the pantheon of disrespect. Although exclaimed with varying intonations, they both have the same long-term effects on the parental psyche'; sheer destruction.
"Go upstairs and pick up your toys."
"You're not the boss of me."
Get your coat on and get in the car."
"You're not the boss of me."
"Time to come inside." (Neighborhood full of children and adults witnessing the battle of wills)
"You're not the boss of me! You're not the boss of me! You're not the boss of me!" (Running up and down the sidewalk, in circles, ADHD in full effect)
(Parents and children still entranced)
"Yeah, well I may not be the boss of you, but I brought you into this world...and I can take you out!" 'Thanks, pops', I think, pointing upward (even though he still lives in rural Ohio), and getting a discreet round of thumbs up from the other dads standing within earshot of this showdown at high noon. The only thing missing is a slo mo of the smoking gun being thrust back into my holster, with the theme song from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly blaring in the background. It is a moment of great pride...

What does the fox say?
Mercifully we've graduated to a "Happier" place...

They make us laugh. They make us cry. They drive us mad with their unwavering spirit and dogged determination, and they make us beg for more. I don't know that pennies come from heaven, but kids surely do.

Until tomorrow,

Scott