Sunday, October 11, 2009


"Mama?" he tentatively calls from his bedroom this morning, and I can hear the slams and bams and crashes, a clear indication that he's been busily looking for something and has come up completely empty-handed.

"Yes, son?" but he hasn't heard me. Slam! Slam! Crash!

"MAMA?!?!" he bellows, frantic now. It must be something really special. Like that tiny little piece off that totally random thing that he got from that off-the-wall place on that totally special day. You know it?

"Yes, son?" I sing-song back.

Tromp. Tromp. Tromp.

And now he's got the frowny, pouty, big-eyed puppy look on.

"Mama, I looked and looked, but I just can't find my little green fish, and I NEEEEEEEED IT!!!"

"Okay, well, where have you looked?"

"No, no, no," and he puts up his hand in that talk-to-the-hand gesture that just annoys the hell out of me. "I already looked EVERYWHERE! The only place it could possibly be is the truck. So, can you go get it? I NEEEEEED it, Mama. PLEASE!" he begs.

"Son. I'm not going out to the truck to look for some tiny little plastic magnetic fish that belongs to that silly little two-dollar fishing game that you don't even have all the parts to, which has been sitting at the bottom of your toy box for the last 3 moves. You'll just have to wait til we go somewhere."

And he just stands there, still pouting. And I'm waiting for him to explode when I suddenly see his face completely change shape. And he morphs right there in front of my very eyes from a whiny little 6-year-old into this grown up boy as he puts his shoulders back, lifts his chin, and says, "Well, then, may I please borrow the keys so that I can go and get it myself?"

And I was just so shocked at the prospect of our little king doing anything for himself that I couldn't even speak, reached down and pulled the keys from purse, and handed them over.

As he trotted happily down the stairs (with me hot on his tail, of course), I called after him to remember to lock...

"Mom," he says. "I got it!"

So, I unlocked the front door and went straight to the kitchen window to watch. Nervously.

But he unlocked the truck with the remote, opened only the back door on his side, reached in and snatched up the little fish, slammed the door shut, and started back up the walk. And just as I was about to yell out, he reached over his right shoulder with the keys and pressed the lock button, as if he did this sort of thing all the time.

He walked right in, shut and locked the front door, handed me the keys, and said, "Thanks, Mom!"

And off he went.

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