Posts Tagged ‘
Tuesday, October 1st, 2013
2 years, 10 months.
A few weeks ago when you began your obsession with trying to find a pink Hummer on the way to school, I finally had to break the news to you as softly as I could:
“You don’t see a lot of pink Hummers on the road, Jack. You really don’t see a lot of pink cars at all, really.”
Since that day, you have been using my phrase “you don’t see a lot of” to refer to any possibly peculiar or slightly rare vehicles you see as we drive around Nashville.
“A blue dump truck!” You paused for two seconds, then continued, as if recovering from deep thought:
“You don’t see a lot of blue dump trucks.”
This weekend I helped you make the poor man’s version of a Thomas the Train table by connecting all your plastic Take-N-Play tracks and playsets across our coffee table and couch.
You’ve got this new Hot Wheels van that serves as, I assume, a post-Rapture, pre-Apocalypse survival vehicle.
The entire back of the van is enclosed in what I think is supposed to be bulletproof glass, containing inside a tiny bed, a giant computer, and what appear to be giant tanks of oxygen.
As you considered letting the van cross the bridge from the table to the couch, alongside my Gremlin from the 1980s, you proclaimed, “You don’t see a lot of weird orange vans.”
The reason this story is funny to me is because when you say “you don’t see a lot of” it makes me think of you as a little adult.
That just doesn’t sound like a phrase a nearly 3 year-old goes around saying.
(However, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that using unusual, adult-sounding phrases is actually pretty typical of kids your age.)
I’ve heard that raising an “only child” is like raising a little adult.
I could see that…
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Thursday, September 19th, 2013
2 years, 10 months.
Every morning as we’re getting ready to leave the house, one of the last things I do is put on your shoes.
Today, though, I came back from brushing my teeth to see you smiling on the stairs, with your new Sketchers already on.
In theory, I may have made a bigger of a deal out of it that necessary, but I had never considered that you could put your shoes on yourself.
I’ve always done that for you… everyday since I can remember.
You loved the fact you surprised me with this new skill of yours.
Then, shortly after, you sang your ABC’s all the way through, without messing up. That’s the first time I’ve heard you do that so flawlessly.
I’m proud of you. I just want to say that.
To be clear, I don’t just simply mean publicly. Sure, I’m proud of you like that, too.
But what I am really getting at is, privately, without the world watching or aware, I am proud of you.
As in, you make me proud, as my son.
I was thinking about this morning all day. During my lunch break, I stopped by Target to try to find you a 97 cent FJ Cruiser or Hummer; two SUV’s you are currently obsessed with.
You have way too many Hot Wheels cars already, but I just wanted to express my feelings to you. Turns out, I found neither car at the store, but just know I was so impressed by you that I at least tried.
Letting you know I’m proud of you is something I always want to keep at the forefront of our relationship. It’s important to me that you always know how I feel about you.
If I end up saying it too much, so be it.
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Wednesday, September 11th, 2013
2 years, 9 months.
It’s nearly amazing I take you as seriously as I do each time you come up with some random new toy request, yet I always do whatever it takes to find it for you.
Thanks to some help from Nana, you became the proud new owner of The I-Screamer from Mater’s Tall Tales, because she bought you the entire set of characters from that episode, in a boxed set.
Plus, there’s the black van you asked for, then obtained, this summer after Papa spraypainted one of my old toys from the Eighties.
What could it be now?
Your new mission: to find a “pink Hummer.”
Not a giant ride-on toy, just a small pink Hummer to play along with your other Hot Wheels cars in our living room: one small enough to easily carry around with you everywhere you go, too.
While the color pink is typically associated with girls, I know it’s just a rare (and therefore highly sought after) color for you.
You don’t see a lot of pink trucks, pink SUV’s, or pink Hummers out on the road when we drive to and from school each day; even with the sporatic Mary Kay vehicles.
Today, you saw a yellow Jeep driving in a lane right next to an orange Jeep, and you went hysterical in the back seat:
“A-a-a-a-a-a-a…. A-a-a-a-a yellow Jeep! N-n-n-n-n-next to the or-or-or-orange Jeep!”
Orange and yellow Jeeps aren’t as easy to find, so it was a big deal for you to see them together like that.
You appreciate the uncommon things in this world.
And I’d have to say, pink Hummers are definitely uncommon things in the world.
It was interesting to recently learn it wasn’t all that long ago that the color pink became “a girls’ color.” I figured it had just always been that way.
However, an article entitled “When Did Girls Start Wearing Pink?” on Smithsonian.com sheds some light on the subject:
“Today’s color dictate wasn’t established until the 1940s, as a result of Americans’ preferences as interpreted by manufacturers and retailers.”
You just like pink because it’s a weird color for a car. That’s all it means.
In fact, I think it’s totally cool that you are proud of your appreciation of the color pink.
Whenever I ask you what your favorite color is, you always respond the same: “Um, pink… and black.”
There’s this little boys’ t-shirt I see every so often when we’re out in public. It’s hot pink and it reads, “Real boys wear pink.”
Real boys are so confident in the fact they like pink, that if they wear pink, they don’t need to talk about it. They just own it.
Son, you want a pink Hummer. I’m going to try to find you one. And it’s going to be the toughest pink Hummer anyone’s ever seen!
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