You Never Know!

I am so busy with a stressful project at work that my poor blog has languished. Some days, I look at the page longingly before I buckle down to the day’s work. But today, though I am still under the gun, I thought I’d write a few quick words.

The pipsqueak is standing all the time now, but not independently. He is saying “ma ma ma” but I don’t know if he knows what it means or not. He has become very attached to me lately and cries pitifully when I leave for work. (But the crying ends when I am out of sight, LOL.)

The squeaker is busy collecting bones and turtle shells and other fascinating things. He says that he is a scientist, and that he can’t ever be a papa because he’s busy being a scientist. I told him that he could go to school to be a scientist, and he said, “No, thanks. I’m already a scientist. I’m the kind of scientist who doesn’t need to go to school.” He has a point, I think.

We’ve decided that the squeaker’s motto is, “You never know.” That phrase captures the essence of his optimism, his creativity, his enthusiasm, his imagination.

Me: No, T, I don’t think that is a T-Rex bone, I think it’s a stick.

The Squeaker: You never know!

Or

Me: I doubt that lobster will be on the menu at the pizza place, T.

The Squeaker: You never know!

He is always hopeful. His optimism knows no bounds. I am trying to learn from him, but I am a pragmatist through and through.

Dad and Me

This is why the pipsqueak has that crazy hair. It's been in the family for generations.

Love you, dad. :)

Squeaker Out and About

A Jehovah’s Witness came to my door yesterday. She has been visiting now and then for the past several months. She brings me the latest literature. My husband doesn’t want her coming onto our property because one of the great things about where we live is the privacy, and because we don’t like people coming up our driveway with the little ones roaming around. But she seems so sincere that I just can’t bring myself to tell her not to come back.

Anyway, yesterday’s booklet was about whether you really know your children. She said, “I know you have small children now, but one day they will be teenagers, and...”

“Only one small children,” interrupted the squeaker. “Child, I mean. We do have a baby.”

The woman just stared at him.

“But I’m not a small child. I’m pretty big. See?” And he stepped outside, drawing himself up to his full height.

And while she looked down at this little teeny person, he said, “I’m 40 feet tall.”

She went away chuckling, and I said to him, “I don’t think you are quite 40 feet tall.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed. “I was thinking of a T-Rex. They’re 40 feet tall.”

“Ah,” I said. “I can see how you got confused.”

Lately, the squeaker and his papa have been collecting Dungeons & Dragons miniatures. This has introduced the squeaker to all kinds of news words, like “arcon.” He sets up the minis and has epic battles on the playroom floor. His papa suggested that they get some “scenes” for him to use, and so they’ve been combing pet stores for those pieces that people buy to put in their aquariums. So far, they have some columns (“gollums,” according to the squeaker), a bridge, and some Grecian ruins.

When they bought the bridge, the squeaker seemed concerned about buying something at the pet store when we don’t really have a pet.

“Hello, ladies, hello,” he said to the cashiers. “Sorry, but we’re buying this bridge, even though we don’t have a pet.”

Pause.

“Well, we do have a pet, but she’s a cat, not a fish, and she lives outside. This is not for her. We don’t have a pet that this is for. It’s for our minis. Sorry. Sorry that we don’t have a pet. This bridge is for Gandalf in the mines of Moria. It’s not for a pet, even though this is a pet store.”

The ladies just stared. I think they had never seen anything quite like him.