Stick OUT!
Last Friday I picked up kidlet from daycare and then went to the Portland Public Market to buy a loaf of bread for the weekend (little kids love french toast, you see). While I was there the flower shop had some balloons tied to their "Happy Hour" bouquet specials. Kidlet loves balloons, so I asked if he could have one thinking they would just give me a display balloon as they were closing in an hour anyway. The woman said, "Those are just for our display," meaning what, exactly? I'm not sure. The place was nearly deserted. Anyway, I said, "Well, do you sell them?" "Oh yeah, we sell them," she answered. I asked if I could buy one (are you rolling your eyes yet?), and she said yes. $1.50 later (!) my kidlet was the proud owner of a sky blue balloon. He wanted to hold the string in his hand, but knowing that he would let go of it I looped it through the velcro cinch on his cuff. He very happily walked beside me, balloon bobbing along behind. It was really damned cute.
We went outside and I helped him go down the stairs, and as you can probably guess the moment we hit open air the balloon somehow removed itself from his cuff and flew away into the darkening sky. He looked up in shock, his mouth a wide O, and as I looked down at him I had the distinct thought that this could either go fine or it could go very badly. The latter was the case. His little face crumpled up into a rictus of agony and he started wailing. Here I was, standing on a soggy street corner with a paper bag holding two loaves of bread and a bouquet (which was overpriced, by the way!), with a piteously sobbing child by the hand, looking up into the sky. My car was parked in a 5-minute spot. I ushered Michael back to the shelter of an overhang so I could put my bag down, then I hugged him as tightly as I could while he cried. I got him to calm down a little and tried telling him the story of when I was a little girl and lost a balloon much like he did, and my daddy told me that the balloon had flown away to find another little girl or boy to play with. Yeah. Kidlet was having none of that. "My balloon...my ballooooon..." he wailed.
Since my child was so obviously in gut-wrenching pain and not just manipulating me to get what he wanted, I decided that getting him another balloon was in order. I picked up child and bag and went back inside, where the flower girls saw me coming and got that "Oh no, sad child!" look on their faces. I told them that we had a balloon mishap and asked if we could have another. They didn't have the same blue so kidlet got teal, which he was dubious about but accepted graciously. They also didn't have any problem charging me another $1.50.
Sigh. $3 is a pittance to pay for my child's happiness, but still, how much do those things cost them?!
This time I tied it in a double knot to the zipper of kidlet's jacket. No way was he losing this one. He held onto the string with a death grip as we descended the stairs a second time. All the way home he said. "Michael sad, miss blue balloon. Green balloon make Michael happy!" I also asked him where he thought the blue balloon had gone, and we made up stories about it. One was that the balloon went high into the sky to visit the clouds, then a birdie flew by and grabbed the balloon string in its beak and brought it back to its nest for the baby birdies. Another was that a boy in an airplane looked out the window and saw the blue balloon flying by. Michael seemed satisfied with these stories and even told Daddy all about them when we got home.
The two most pitiful things ever are a child crying with a mouthful of food, and a child who has just lost a balloon.
And since I can't talk about my kid without talking about junk, here's another classic "He said what?" conversation from last night.
(Kidlet sits on the couch in a towel, fresh from his bath.)
Kidlet: MOMMY!
Me: Yes Michael?
Kidlet, voice of awe: LOOK!
(I glance over. Kidlet is pulling on his foreskin like there's no tomorrow, stretching his penis to twice its length. I cringe.)
Me: Um, that's nice, honey - please don't hurt yourself.
Kidlet, voice of wonder: Mommy - Michael penis stick out!
Me, to my husband: Maybe you'd better handle this conversation.
Michael: What's going on?
Me: Michael has an erection.
Kidlet: Look! Penis stick OUT!
(Kidlet thrusts hips into air, displaying that yes, indeed, his penis is sticking out.)
Me: Yup, it does that sometimes. That's just what it does.
Kidlet: Stick out! Penis stick out!
Michael, to kidlet: Uh huh, it's sticking out. Is it hard?
Kidlet, happily: YES!
(Michael and I laugh. Kidlet looks down at self, tugging penis everywhichway.)
(Eventually he loses interest and a few minutes pass.)
Kidlet: Michael pee couch.
What wild and crazy times we have, yes indeed.
We went outside and I helped him go down the stairs, and as you can probably guess the moment we hit open air the balloon somehow removed itself from his cuff and flew away into the darkening sky. He looked up in shock, his mouth a wide O, and as I looked down at him I had the distinct thought that this could either go fine or it could go very badly. The latter was the case. His little face crumpled up into a rictus of agony and he started wailing. Here I was, standing on a soggy street corner with a paper bag holding two loaves of bread and a bouquet (which was overpriced, by the way!), with a piteously sobbing child by the hand, looking up into the sky. My car was parked in a 5-minute spot. I ushered Michael back to the shelter of an overhang so I could put my bag down, then I hugged him as tightly as I could while he cried. I got him to calm down a little and tried telling him the story of when I was a little girl and lost a balloon much like he did, and my daddy told me that the balloon had flown away to find another little girl or boy to play with. Yeah. Kidlet was having none of that. "My balloon...my ballooooon..." he wailed.
Since my child was so obviously in gut-wrenching pain and not just manipulating me to get what he wanted, I decided that getting him another balloon was in order. I picked up child and bag and went back inside, where the flower girls saw me coming and got that "Oh no, sad child!" look on their faces. I told them that we had a balloon mishap and asked if we could have another. They didn't have the same blue so kidlet got teal, which he was dubious about but accepted graciously. They also didn't have any problem charging me another $1.50.
Sigh. $3 is a pittance to pay for my child's happiness, but still, how much do those things cost them?!
This time I tied it in a double knot to the zipper of kidlet's jacket. No way was he losing this one. He held onto the string with a death grip as we descended the stairs a second time. All the way home he said. "Michael sad, miss blue balloon. Green balloon make Michael happy!" I also asked him where he thought the blue balloon had gone, and we made up stories about it. One was that the balloon went high into the sky to visit the clouds, then a birdie flew by and grabbed the balloon string in its beak and brought it back to its nest for the baby birdies. Another was that a boy in an airplane looked out the window and saw the blue balloon flying by. Michael seemed satisfied with these stories and even told Daddy all about them when we got home.
The two most pitiful things ever are a child crying with a mouthful of food, and a child who has just lost a balloon.
And since I can't talk about my kid without talking about junk, here's another classic "He said what?" conversation from last night.
(Kidlet sits on the couch in a towel, fresh from his bath.)
Kidlet: MOMMY!
Me: Yes Michael?
Kidlet, voice of awe: LOOK!
(I glance over. Kidlet is pulling on his foreskin like there's no tomorrow, stretching his penis to twice its length. I cringe.)
Me: Um, that's nice, honey - please don't hurt yourself.
Kidlet, voice of wonder: Mommy - Michael penis stick out!
Me, to my husband: Maybe you'd better handle this conversation.
Michael: What's going on?
Me: Michael has an erection.
Kidlet: Look! Penis stick OUT!
(Kidlet thrusts hips into air, displaying that yes, indeed, his penis is sticking out.)
Me: Yup, it does that sometimes. That's just what it does.
Kidlet: Stick out! Penis stick out!
Michael, to kidlet: Uh huh, it's sticking out. Is it hard?
Kidlet, happily: YES!
(Michael and I laugh. Kidlet looks down at self, tugging penis everywhichway.)
(Eventually he loses interest and a few minutes pass.)
Kidlet: Michael pee couch.
What wild and crazy times we have, yes indeed.
posted by Jen at
7:04 PM
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