There are some things for which one can find little-to-no guidance in the parenting books.
Ethan, being the astute age of 5, is starting to notice and/or comment on sometimes funny, sometimes awkward things that catch us off guard.
I started noticing this around the time that Pop died.
I wasn't sure what, if anything, Ethan would understand or remember. As it turns out, he remembers a lot, and in the months that followed, he would ask questions or make comments about memories of Pop, the wake, or the funeral.
As it happens, I don't have great in-the-moment reflexes, so I'd start crying (because 1) that seems to be the one emotional reaction I really cannot control and 2) I really miss my Pop), and then K would have to explain all kinds of fun stuff about why Mommy acts like a moron.
I hoped he would outgrow this stage -- and he has stopped asking about Pop -- but now it manifests in different ways... like last night at bath time:
"Daddy, I think there's a hole in my hiney. I'm pretty sure that's where poop comes from."
Correct -- Yes.
Awkward -- Um hmm.
Thank goodness he addressed this one to K.
Sometimes, though, I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing... like this morning.
Ethan and Laney got up around 6:30 (see yesterday's post for important background). Sam woke up around the same time... which meant that I got up, too, while K slept.
Impressive talent, I know. I think he's part sloth because he's able to sleep for 47 straight hours.
Finally, after much breakfasting, cartooning, and talking, K joined us in the den.
Ethan: "Daddy, why don't you get up with the rest of us?"
K: (Momentary pause.)
E: (Staring at Daddy expectantly, waiting for an answer.)
K: (Finally) Because I'm lazy.
I, meanwhile, tried not to laugh out loud but wasn't terribly successful. I ended up having to fake a coughing fit.
The thing is, I need warning. I have what I call "Inappropriate Response Syndrome," meaning I usually react in the exact opposite way that I should... like when K practically dislocated his knee-cap on the foot board of the bed last week.
He doubled over in pain while I, again, tried to disguise my laughter as a coughing fit.
Didn't work.
I should mention that it absolutely infuriates K when my IRS shows up when he hurts himself. Two of the maybe three times I saw K lose his temper before we got married involved me laughing at the wrong time... once when he whacked his head on a nail at a public picnic shelter and once when he spilled an entire bowl of salsa in his lap at a restaurant.
I should also mention that the more angry he gets, the harder I laugh.
I really do try to stop, but it's like laughing in church or at a funeral. I just cannot control it.
This got me in a heap of trouble growing up... especially in church or when I got in trouble. Something -- usually absurd, like Fanny J. Crosby's name in the hymnal or the way my dad's eyebrow hair sometimes grows over his glasses-- would strike me as hysterical, and the laughter would just have to come out.
I thought maybe I would grow out of it, but it really seems to be getting worse and extending to other areas, such as saying things that I shouldn't... like telling Ethan to "clobber that kid next time he grabs your jersey."
I, uh, don't like for people to pick on Ethan. It makes me angry.
You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.
(Sorry. I couldn't resist. I loved The Incredible Hulk when I was growing.)
Anyway, I'm really not that scary when I'm angry, but I do have a little trouble controlling what I say -- or sometimes even coming up with something to say -- if I'm caught off guard. I think Laney may have inherited this from me because she, too, doesn't respond appropriately when angry or upset or startled.
Me: "Laney, would you rather eat your dinner or go to bed?"
Laney: "Go to bed."
Who chooses that option?
Me: "Laney, if you don't put these clothes on right now, I'm going to pop your hiney!"
Laney: "Pop me."
Hello?!?!? No one is supposed to ask for that!
Sigh. It's going to be a long rest of my life...
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