My husband is a smart man. Very smart. He doesn’t update his blog with sentence fragments. He doesn’t have a blog. That latter point there is pretty much the proof pudding that he is smarter than I am.
I remember when I was pregnant with James that I fondly remarked that I hoped he would be smart like his daddy. Rob remarked that his mommy is smart too. Fair enough. My son, however, seems to be sharp as a tack in a way he could only inherit from his father.
Bring to mind the incident a few weeks ago with the unguarded bottle of Tums and the exchange James and I shared before I realized I’d been had. I’d like to tell another story about the sly cleverness that my son chooses to randomly exhibit.
James is well aware his mommy works at the grocery store. He knows we go to the grocery store to buy things that we need. the other day he was messing about with a toy he hadn’t played with in some time. As a result, the batteries were dead. When we explained to him that we couldn’t fix it because we didn’t have any batteries, he brought us our shoes and explained we needed to go to the grocery store so we could fix his toy.
But I digress.
Rob and James were at the store picking me up from work (we only have one vehicle), and as usual we needed to pick up a few things. We needed to pick up some fish food because James had gotten his hands on the bottle we already had and decided to redecorate the living room. Glad I wasn’t the one in charge when that occurred, that must have been smelly hell to clean up. So we are in the pet aisle trying to determine if there was anything else we needed when we remembered the batteries. I’m walking with James, holding his hand, while discussing with Rob whether they were C batteries or D batteries that we needed. Suddenly I noticed that we seemed to be making a dingle noise. James was holding my hand but in his other hand, he’d picked up a set of cat toy balls. I laughed and say “James, you don’t need those. You are not a cat!”
He looks up at me with his big brown eyes and says “Meow! Meow!”
Should I be concerned?
The other day I was sitting down on the floor so I could change his diaper (smart, but not smart enough to use the potty) and I kind of groaned in the process of sitting down. We then had the following exchange.
James: “Mommy tired?”
Me:”Yes sweetie, your baby sister makes mommy tired sometimes.”
“Yeah. me too.”
“You’re right, you make mommy tired sometimes too.”
“You used to be in mommy’s tummy too, do you know that?”
“yeah. It was dark.”
“It was dark in there?”
“Was it quiet in there?”
“Yeah. Dark and quiet.”
“I bet it was boring in there.”
“I had books.”
“Wait, you had books in mommy’s tummy?”
“Yeah. Hungry Caterpillar.”
Did that really happen? Yes it did. I’m in as much disbelief as you are. He’s screwing with me, isn’t he?