My son is
now 2.5 and he’s freakin’ hilarious. He is now speaking in sentences (or fluent
tongue) and the things that come out of his mouth are great, especially for
someone like me who has not quite reached a mature level when it comes to
childish humour.
How do
parents NOT crack up and whack their thighs in hysterical laughter when their
kid says something like: “Mum, I want to take my bum off and sit it on your
head and watch the poo.”
Chewed my
cheeks. Closed my eyes. Thought about Jimmy Giggle. Did not laugh out loud.
Seriously.
How does he say that with a serious face and how do I respond with a serious
face? I know I shouldn’t laugh at him because that will only encourage him to
say it again: In a dentist waiting room. To an elderly stranger, who has a giant
bum. Seriously.
Last week
he told me his fingers looked like doodles and didn’t stop staring at them for
days. He poured water on his hands from the watering can just so he could watch
his fingers wee. He told the lady at Baker’s Delight about his doodle fingers
and she laughed. I walked out empty handed. I refused to buy finger buns that
day.
Bit my
tongue. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Focused on my pelvic floor. Did not laugh
out loud,
Heading
to the zoo is a joy, purely for the social commentary on animal life coming
from my son:
“Mum,
why doesn’t that elephant have a doodle? The other one does? And so does
daddy.”
“Mum, is
daddy a lion?”
“Mum,
can we eat the hippo poo?”
“Mum, can
I go inside the elephant?”
“Mum,
I’m licking the window so the hippo can see the baby snake in my tummy.”
Pinched
my arm. Held my breath. Thought about the washing. Did not laugh out loud.
It’s so
much fun watching my son discover all these natural delights. But what’s funnier
is the absolute refreshing perspective he brings to everyday life and how
hilarious I am with dealing with these moments where I actually have to behave
like a grown up.
When I
explained to my son why I didn’t have a doodle (he asked me if it had fallen
off when I sneezed), he gently put his hand on my knee and, staring me straight
in the eyes, he said, “Mummy, it will be alright. We can ask Santa for one when
he takes my dummies. He’s bringing me a big parcel, he can bring you a big
doodle just like daddy’s.”
My strong
blank stare focusing above his head and the tears rolling down my cheeks as I
bit the inside of my mouth to hold back the huge giggle was too much for him to
handle.
“Mummy,
don’t cry. You can have my doodle. I don’t need it coz I can wee out my eyes
like you.”
Who is Ali Webb?
When she's not parenting her two-and-a-half year old son Alfie, Ali tries to figure out the difference between Gordon and Thomas and why the producers would create two trains the same colour. But colour is Ali's thing. She loves to live a colourful life filled with running (after her kid, not for exercise), writing, hunting for vintage treasures, whipping up a macrame or broccoli-shaped cushion and composing raps in her mind about Milo and Sunshine Pine. Ali is a nutcase. Support her on this journey.
This article first appeared in the December issue of Bubba West Magazine.
