More Stuff Mal Says

Lately, chatting with my little is an absolute hoot. What comes out of his mouth belies so much of what's taking place in his mysterious mind. So here are some examples I want to remember.

The other day, Mal asked me to go do something with him, to which I agreed. He lit up and said, "Really, you will?! That'll be precious!"

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One night he wanted to make pancakes, so we just threw stuff into a bowl and every time he had an idea of something we should put in  (mostly food coloring), he pronounced, "It will be FAB-uh-luss!" Over and over again.

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Today at Little Land, Mal was obsessing over the 18-month-and-under play area, affronted because there was a kid in there who was over 18 months. I told him that I was sure it was because he had a smaller sibling in there with his mom. This conversation started, beginning with Mal:

I wish I had a baby so I could go in there!
You want a baby?!
I could be a babysitter.
Yes, if you were a babysitter, you could go in with your baby. Maybe when you get a little older.
I'm getting bigger right now!
But you need to be a little more mature before you can take care of a baby.
I can be a babysitter.
Okay, if you were a babysitter and your baby didn't feel good, what would you do?
Hug it.
What if the baby were hungry?
I'd give it breakfast.
What's breakfast for a baby?
A Popsicle.
What would you do if the baby threw up?
I'd clean it up.
What if you needed help? Who would you call?
Spiderman.

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James and I have discussed lately the unfair reality experienced by most families: That the kids go to the mom for EVERYTHING, regardless of which parent it would be more convenient to approach. Today, James and I were both hanging out, lying on the master bed, while Mal played with his cars in "Radiator Springs" (the cat condo). He said, "Mommy! Wake up!" I suggested, "Why don't you ask Daddy to wake up?" He reasonably answered, "Mommy, no! Daddy's sleeping!"

Then James laughed so hard he cried, and the same again later in the day when I brought it up again.

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Along the same lines, later I was working in the kitchen. Mal had gone to the back restroom and passed his dad in the hall to come ask me to help him put his underpants back on. I told him to go ask hi Dad to help as I was in the middle of something. He went to the back of the house yelling, "Daddy! I need Mommy!"

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Mal wanted mashed potatoes the other night, and the only potatoes I had were little new potatoes that had been cooked in a beef stew. Because of the carrots and tomatoes, the potatoes did have an orange tint, but I made extremely tasty mashed potatoes out of them and handed them to Mal. He received them with, "This isn't right. Try again, Mom."

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In pulling out his desk chair, Mal accidentally knocked it over. Very understatedly, he said, "My beautiful plan... Ruined."

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We were eating with my parents recently, and Mal asked my dad something. Dad responded genuinely, but Mal thought he'd said something about boogers. Mal reprimanded him, "Pappy, don't be a jerk."

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I think on these things when I'm lamenting how tired I am, how hopeful we were when we removed caffeine from Mal's diet and he was sleeping hours on end for a while but we're back to the same or worse than usual, or how monotonous so much of parenting a tiny person can be. It's also very rewarding and outright hysterically funny much of the time. I'm grateful to get to accompany this kid through his days.