My little guy isn't the best talker in the world. His attempts at complete sentences are generally three words and I must decipher them. But he gets his point across. Generally I am amazed at what those points are sometimes. Yesterday morning we were laying in my bed together and we had a little chat about his pacifier. I explained to him that he isn't a baby anymore so he isn't going to get to have his paci quite as much. (We had it down to bed, car and couch but whenever he wasn't on the bed, in the car or on the couch, he was begging to have it anyway.) I'm really trying to limit his time spent with it to his bed and occasionally in the car or on the couch. As I explained to him that big boys don't need pacifiers the following conversation occurred.
Me: Big boys don't have pacifiers.
Garrett: Bob? (Bob is my grandfather)
Me: No silly, Grandpa Bob doesn't suck on a paci.
Garrett: Daddy?
Me: Now have you ever seen Daddy sucking on a pacifier?
Garrett: No. Rapaw? (His evolving word for Grandpa)
Me: You goof, Grandpa would look so silly with a paci.
Garrett: (Changing the subject) Bob. Home. Eat. Fly. (Translated: We went to Grandpa Bob's house and had dinner and Garrett played with a toy plane.)
Me: Yes, we did. Do you like Grandpa Bob?
Garrett: Yeah.
Me: Do you remember the lady who used to live with Grandpa Bob?
Garrett: Yeah. Sit. (At this point he shoved his fingers up his nose. Then he took them out and pointed to my ceiling.) Jesus.
My grandmother died in February when Garrett was 18 months old. She spent her last months sitting in a chair on oxygen. I've told him that she passed away and maybe I said she was with Jesus in heaven at some point. But he remembered that she used to sit, had tubes up her nose, and is now up in the sky somewhere.
Me: She loved you very, very much.
Garrett: Yeah. Up Jesus.
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Today I went to get my flu shot. Garrett had the flu mist in September. I told him that we needed to stop so that mommy could get a shot. He started to cry. I explained that he didn't have to get one, only I did. As the nurse prepared to give it to me, he started whimpering.
Me: Garrett, you don't have to get one. Just mommy.
Garrett: Mommy.
Me: Right. Not Garrett.
Garrett: No.
After the shot was administered I said...
Me: Okay, come all. We're all done.
Garrett: No! Me!
Me: Oh, you want one now?
Garrett: Yes!
Me: You don't need one. Come on. (As we walk into the hall he starts to cry.) Are you crying because you want a shot.
Garrett: Yeah.
Me: You're a weird kid.
And every nurse and doctor within earshot started laughing hysterically.
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Tip For the Day on Dealing with Infertile People: If you ever find yourself unexpectedly pregnant and you tell someone that you know has struggled or is struggling to have a child OR if you make the announcement in a room full of people where someone may be infertile, do not emphasize the part about how it is unexpected. God works in very different ways in the lives of his people. Some people cannot have children and others can have them as easily as ordering something from a catalogue. And those of us who can't just order a pregnancy as easily as we order pizza try not to burst into tears when we hear that someone turned up pregnant without even trying. But when the extremely fertile ooze on and on about how, "We just were not expecting this and it came as quite a surprise and we don't even know how it happened," it's all the barren can do not to want to orchestrate a lynching. So if this happens and you feel the need to announce that the life inside you was unplanned, simply state it as such. To continue on and on is ridiculous. And you know how it happened. Birth control failure or not. You know how it happened. That's just my advice. You can take it or leave it. But I do suggest taking it to avoid being unexpectedly throttled.
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