After a particularly bad day of infighting amongst the little people, K looks deep into F’s eyes and says:
“Baby. . . . .I *guess* you are my favorite baby in the whole town. I’m never going to say bad things to you.”
Pure.
Love.
or something.

Explain this:
How can K remember the words to the TingTing’s Great DJ song (which he’s heard twice), but not be able to identify any of the alphabet (which we’ve worked on considerably more than twice).
Is this good or bad, I ask myself.
And like most things in parenting, it just is.

The house across the street is vacant and for sale because Margaret, who lived there from birth until death, died.

K says that when he grows up, he is going to marry F and they will live across the street in Margaret’s house. Unless Bob or Mike (our left and right hand neighbors) die, in which case they might live there instead.

My parents took K/F to the apple orchard for their halloween festivities. K had an exceptionally good time and didn’t want to leave. So he cried, his big realllly sad cry. A man working there said, “*someone* doesn’t want to go home! heh heh.”

K cried all the way to the car, then didn’t want to get into the carseat. So my mother told him that they were leaving and if he didn’t get in the carseat he would have to stay there and get a job.

K stopped crying and starting walking back toward the barn. My mother said, where are you going. K said, to get a job.

yep.
true stories, all.

we were all riding in the car last night, october 30, 2008, looking for HALLOWEEN decorations. that’s a big deal (see previous entry). K/F are in the back seat, T is driving and i’m just riding along. T thinks he is being sneaky, having brought a handful of snack-size candy bars and surreptitiously unwrapping and eating them while driving.
K says, “dad, what are you doing?”
“nothing.”
“dad, what’s that noise?”
“nothing.”
“dad, what are you eating?”
“my dinner.”
“dad. . . . i smell candy.”
who gets points for winning that one?
ha.

“Clap clap clap dad, we’re going to go to the library to get some books about people that died.”

K said last week that he had been practicing saying “girl” instead of “girlluh” because “girlluh” wasn’t right.  Sometimes these little things just break my heart. Or at least bend it a little.

He is very particular about how he says things. Lately I have also noticed him practicing the “th” sound. He enunciates it very carefully.

Why does it break/bend my heart?  I think because I extrapolate. He likes to do things right. He always has. He didn’t walk until the later end of the scale, I think because he wanted to do it right– he didn’t want to try and fall (fail).  Now he will be going to this new preschool. It’s going to be a big huge adjustment for him. Firstly, he is sensitive and shy. Secondly, because he likes so much to do things right.  And, as with any new thing, he might falter a little in this new setting – - or perceive that he’s faltering. Then he gets that look, you know, the look in your child’s eye that says, “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do and I’m scared.”

That look breaks my heart.

k says,

i love baby to the moon and back.
i love mom to carter’s house and back.
i love dad to bob’s house and back.

N.B. carter lives about 3 miles from us.
bob lives next door.

5am Wednesday morning.
Family bed.
All are sleeping.
K starts laughing in his sleep, laughing.

He pops up and says to me (with perfect inflection),
“I looked up the baby’s butt and there, looking back at me, was a wooden tin soldier.”

Excitedly, he wakes up T and says to him (with perfect inflection),
“I looked up the baby’s butt and there, looking back at me, was a wooden tin soldier.”

T and I looked at each other.
We all went back to sleep.