"I love those mountains!" I exclaimed, as we drove home from school the other day. The Santa Ana winds brought not only heat but also clarity, driving out the haze and leaving gorgeous blue skies and strong, hearty mountains visible for miles.

"You love lots of things," Nathan replied.

"Well," I said, feeling perhaps a tad defensive, "people who love lots of things have big hearts. So I am trying to love more and more things."

"I love lots of things," he said. "Things that don't kill people."

I couldn't help but smile. "That's good!"

"Like horses," he said. I looked out the window and saw that we were passing the stables around the corner from our house.

Susanna piped in. "Horses can kill people," she said. "Like with their hooves, if they stomp on someone, or fall on someone." The almost-nine-year-old perspective.

But I wanted to defend his five-year-old zeal. "Well, that's true, but horses don't usually try to kill people. It's great to love horses," I said.

Well, we're off to a 5-year-old soccer game followed by an 8- and 9-year-old soccer game. I love soccer! And on the way, I'll look for the horses and the mountains.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor

Just now, sitting and watching Dora the Explorer before breakfast, my son Mike (now 3) turned to me.

"Daddy, I want to a a pieceman (policeman) when I grow up, and have a whistle!"

"You do?" I answered.

"Yes, and stop caws (cars) and tickets."

"Oh, how come?" I asked.

"Because I want to," he said earnestly.

He's very cute. It's interesting the perspective kids have on what a certain job is about, and what it takes. Recently, he's wanted to be a garbage man and a ketchup man (your guess is as good as mine)! In fact, I muse, we all have interesting ideas about what other people's jobs take, and what they're about...president, pastor, recording artist...

Dinosaurs and Hair Follicles

"Were you bald when you were a little boy, Daddy?" my little boy asked with earnest eyebrows.

I smiled. "Nope. Not until I was a man."

The two-year-old piped up. "You alweady bald, Daddy. Dat how Jesus made you."

I couldn't help but laugh. That was yesterday afternoon. This evening my five-year-old resumed the conversation.

"Daddy, were the dinosaurs extinct when you were a little boy? Or were they still alive?"

"Were the dinosaurs extinct? Well.... What do you think, Nathan?"

"Mmmm. I think... I think they were still alive when you were a little boy."

Maybe that explains how I could have become so prematurely bald. Just like Jesus made me.

Bad guys

Jen's sitting on the couch with remote in hand as I write, fast-forwarding past certain scenes in The Empire Strikes Back. A running flow of commentary emanates from Nathan and Susanna, lying on their bellies in front of the tube.

From the set I hear Han Solo shout, "I'll see you in hell!"

"Oooh," says Susanna. "That's a mean thing! He should not say that. That's where Satan lives, so that's mean."

Nathan: "Why does he live there? Is he a bad guy?"

Susanna: "Uh-huh."

Nathan: "Does he do bad things to people?"

Susanna: "Yup."

Movie critic theologians. Where do they get that from?

Alter Egos

"I'm oozing mine 'magination!" declared Michael to his mom the other day. A month away from turning 3, he's begun taking on other identities, remaining in character for 5 minutes or even an hour at a time.

"I'm Dr. Seuss!" I kept hearing around the house this evening. Finally I saw Michael, playing with Kennedy and Carter, friends who were visiting. Evidently all three were Dr. Seuss.

Then I smiled as it dawned on me: they were each wearing a toy stethoscope, bright yellow tubing with bright red and blue pieces hanging around their necks.

The 4-year-old also heard, and quickly took corrective steps: "Dr. Seuss isn't a doctor!" We all love to correct misguided poor saps.

"I'm Doctow Seuss!" insisted the 2-year-old.

"But he's not a doctor!" argued his brother.

"He's not?" I asked, surprised Nathen had picked up this subtlety.

"No, he's not a real doctor. He's just a man who writes books."

"You're right!" I affirmed him.

But Michael had the final word. "I'm Doctow Seuss."

Frankenstein??

Sometimes kids give us a different perspective. On the way to church this morning, the almost 5-year-old chimed up: "Dad, you don't look like Frankenstein."

I just got a haircut, so I wondered if that's what triggered this response. Nathan's commented a few mornings when he's seen all my hair sticking up, "Dad, you look wierd!" So I thought maybe, perhaps, he meant I didn't look like Einstein, with my short cropped hair. So I probed a little.

"Why don't I look like Frankenstein?" 

"Frankenstein has flat hair. It's black. And he's green, and you're not." Nope, I guess he really meant Frankenstein! 

Maybe I should have dropped it while I was ahead, but I responded. "You're right, I'm not like Frankenstein in any of those ways!"

"No, you look zery, zery, zery, zery, zery, zery, zery old!"

To me, old = wise and mature, so I took it as a compliment. I also took it as a compliment that I don't look like Frankenstein. I think.

"How old are you, Dad?" Nathan asked me this morning.

"11," I replied, to evoke a reaction.

"No, you're not 11!" he said.

"12?"

"No!"

"How old do you think I am?"

He mused. "16,000?"

I laughed. "Well, pretty close."

"Come on, how old are you really?"

"38," I replied, not trying to evoke a reaction.

"38! Wow, that's really, really, old!" he said. 

I remember when I used to think the same thing.

Wait a minute!

Jen was putting Nate to sleep, as is our custom, by reading him a book and then doing short prayers. We've now incorporated Susanna's idea into the routine--asking Jesus, "What do you want to say to us tonight?" We didn't know if four-and-a-half years old was too young to "get it," but...well, I'll let you judge for yourself.

Jen and Nathan had each shared the best and worst parts of their day with each other, and prayed for various friends and family members. They listened to Jesus together for a brief moment.

"Well, what do you think Jesus said?" she asked.

He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "I fink I heard Jesus say...'The force be with you!'"

Jen did a double-take, then saw him smiling. "Jesus didn't say that!" she laughed.

"No," he agreed. "I'm just joking. I think he said, 'I am always with you.'"

"That does sound like Jesus," she affirmed. "He is always with us."

Riddle: How is a 2-year-old like a train?

"Choo-choo!" exclaimed Michael, as if were his first time seeing a real, live train. Actually, we see these same trains every week or two when we go to Grandma & Papa's house. I long for that ability to so live in the present that, like a small child, I can always enjoy my current experience as if it were my first time. But my story's gotten derailed.

"Choo-choo nigh-night," he observed. Indeed, the train was dark and sitting still on the tracks. He expanded on his point: "Dat choo-choo not going, choo-choo nigh-night. That choo-choo doe nigh-night dust wike me!"

I laughed. "Yes, the train does go to sleep, just like you." I hadn't seen if from that perspective...

How to Make Tonic

All week Susanna and Nate have been running outside to make tonics. The other day I found the recipe 8-year-old Susanna had written on a neatly folded piece of lined paper, in purple marker:


How to make tonic

First, skin it.

Sec. put on tree.

Third, rubb it.

Fourth, water it

Fith, lick it

Sixth, felle better

I don't know what it cures, and I don't even know what the main ingredient is...but sounds a little scary to me.

2 Bits... (Or, More Adventures in Toddlerese)

"Na-Nay's dun!" exclaimed Michael.

"Nathan has a gun?" I clarified.

"No, Na-Nay's dun!" he repeated.

"You want Nathan's gun?" I tried again. This familiar process often takes 5-10 attempts before we successfully establish the communication breakthrough.

"No! Na-Nay's . . . ummmm, Nathan's finished!" he said, trying a different tactic.

"Oh, he's DONE!" I finally got it.

"Yes!" he said, elated. That is what he had said!

"Dat duck-duck-wain fowest."

"Duck-Duck-Rain forest? Is that a game you play?"

"No, dat duck-duck-wain fowest."

"Uhh...I don't know what you're saying."

"Dat dup duck wain fowest."

"Hmmm,...Where is it?" Sometimes context helps me with the decoding.

"Over dere!" Mike pointed at a large (and I do mean large) oak tree--it had a spread of about 80-90 feet.

"Oh, that's not a rain forest, that's a tree... Oh!" The light bulb went on for me. "Do you mean 'That deep dark rain forest?'"

"Yes!" Ahh, the sweet taste of victory. These are great moments for us.

Toddler Question

Michael built what looked (to my naive eyes) like a tower out of megablocks.

"I need to take a pitcha!" he told me. 

"Oh, is that a camera?" I asked.

"Uh-huh. How do you boot up mine tama?" he asked.

I guess these days cameras do need to be booted up--as every two-year-old knows.

Don't Bug Me

Since Susanna's friend introduced us to the game, we spot VW Bugs, PT Cruisers and convertibles of every kind where ever we go. Saturday I decided to mix it up a little bit when I was driving with Susanna.

Susanna: Bug!

Me: Aaack! Where?! Is it on me? (Slapping at my back and shoulders) I hate bugs!!

Susanna (laughing): Dad! You're acting just like Mommy. (Moments later, spotting another one) Bug!

Me: AAack! Spbltssppptt!! Yuck! Where? Is it in my mouth? Spppllltt! Yuck! I hate bugs! (It worked--I did get another satisfying laugh.)

Susanna: Cruiser!

Me (predictably): Aaack! Where? (Slapping at my back and shoulders) I hate Cruisers!

(I'll omit some brief conversation in the interlude between bugs and Cruisers)

Susanna: Bug!
Me: I don't believe you. You're just trying to scare me!

We can be pretty silly now and then.

Two-Year-Old Joke

Michael: Knock-knock!

Me: Who's there?

Michael: Me are!

Control Issues

The very next night we did the same routine, but Susanna was not in the room with us. 

I asked Nathan, "What was your favorite part of the day?"

He replied, "Can I ask Michael something?"

I agreed, so he addressed his brother in stern tones: "Michael, do NOT talk about the Star Wars Legos game. You can't keep saying that!"

No response from Mike on my right side, but I remarked, "Well, Nathan, we can't control him, but now he knows you don't want him to talk about that. Now, do you want to tell us the best part of your day?"

"My best part was playing Lego Star Wars at our cousin's house today." (We had visited ANOTHER cousin, who has ANOTHER version of it.) I was thankful for the darkness hiding my smile at the irony here.

"Michael, what was your favorite part of the day?" 

"Hmmmmm . . . I be Wuke, I be doid, I be Empwew."

From my left erupted an enraged roar, then: "Michael! I told you not to talk about that!"

No one likes to be controlled, but if we're honest, most of us would like to control the people around us, wouldn't we? We just get more sophisticated as we grow older . . . 

Compline

Our family had a very nice winter break, staying with good friends who took great care of us. While mommy was away for several days at a conference, the 3 kids and dad slept in one room. I decided to adapt Susanna's bedtime prayer routine for use with the younger boys, which resulted in a unique and amusing experience. Though a little long for the blog, I think it's worth the telling.

Picture a darkened room with a child in one small bed, and myself and the other two children on mattresses on the floor. One by one I asked them, "What was your favorite part of the day?"

Susanna: "My favorite part of today was being at my cousin Kristie's house."
Dad: "My favorite part was talking with Uncle Pete, Aunt Susan, and Aunt Tina."
Nate: "My favorite part was playing Lego Star Wers on the computer with John. I got to be Luke Skywalker, and I got to be a droid, and I got to be the Empire, and I got to be a storm trooper, and I got to be the Emperor." Nate waxed eloquent about the computer game until I gently ended his soliloquy.
"What about you, Michael?"

Mike: "Hummmmmm, mine favite part was I be Wuke, I be doid, I be Empwew."
Nathan: "What did he say?"
Me: "He says he was Luke, he was a droid, he was the Emperor. Now let's each say the worst part of our day."

Susanna: "My worst part was when I got hurt."
Nathan: "My worst part was when someone spoke rudely to me and hurt my feewings."
Me: "Michael, what was your worst part of today?"
Mike: "Hummm, mine woost part, I be Wuke, I be doid, I be Empwew."

"Alright, thank you Michael. Now let's all be quiet and listen to Jesus for a minute. Jesus, is there anything you want to say to us?" After a brief moment, "I think I heard Jesus say, 'I love you, and I have all of you in my hands.' Susanna, what did you hear?"

Susanna: "I heard, 'I love you and I'm holding you in my hand."
Me: "Wow--that's almost the same," (which is unusual) "and it does sound like Jesus. What about you, Nate?"
Nathan: "I heard, 'Don't hit, don't push, don't bite, and there is no such thing as being rude."
Susanna: "I think you mean, 'Don't be rude.'"
Nathan: "Yeah, 'Don't be rude.'"

Me: "Those are good rules. How about you, Michael?"
Mike: "Hummmmmmmmmm. I be Wuke, I be Empwew, I be doid."

We sang our nightly prayer song, and I fell asleep amused and grateful for the joys of parenting an 8-year-old, 4-year-old, and 2-year-old. It's a great perspective on the world.

Toddler-English Lexicon

(All entries thanks to Michael, the expert two-year-old in our house.)

Pie Dough Man: Popular superhero. "Me have pie dough man jammies!" (Hint: Pie dough man, pie dough man; does whatever a pie dough can!)

Dough, Eggo, Dough!: Popular kid's show. "Me want us watch Dough Eggo!" "Oh, you want to watch 'Go, Diego, Go!' ?"

Oooze: to employ any object for it's function

Taw: 1. Vehicle. "You dive mama's taw?" 2. Musical instrument. "Me want you ooze youse taw." "You want me to use the car?" "No, taw!" "Huh? A cow?" "No, taw! Youse taw!" "Show me." (He leads me by the hand into the study and points.) "Oh, you want me to use the guitar!" "Uh-huh!"

Donup: "Me donup wike you. Wike Mommy." "You're a grownup like me and mommy?" "Yes me do." "You do what?" "Me donup."

Bad duy: villains. "Me see bad duys!"

Dove: protective hand wear. "Me weaw mine bad duy doves, Daddy." Maybe all bad guys wear gloves? I don't know.