When Pretending is Serious Business

Today, Mal's eye caught on fire, so he had to come into the doctor's (my) office for a shot, as one does. I gave him a shot, and he proceeded to tell me that I needed to use the hammer. I tested his reflexes, and there were none, but that could be because the hammer is plastic and I wasn't getting near any tendons.

As the exam went on, he kept telling me instruments I needed to use, ending with scissors. I proceeded to cut off his big toe and replace it with a Play-Doh prosthetic (pretend, also). Mal got really upset and pretended to take off the prosthetic toe. "I don't want Play-Doh! Give me something else!"

"I can't. I super-glued that on. You can't just take it off."

Mal started to get genuinely upset. "Give me my toe back!"

Then he changed tacks: "I want a tire."

So I put a tire on his toe.

"Not that one. That's yellow. I want a black tire."

I put a different one on.

"That's brown."

Then I pretended to use a spray can. "Shhhhh-shhhhhhh shhhsshhh. There I painted it black."

Brightly, "Okay! Thanks!"

And that was all for playing doctor.

Later, Mal was playing Paw Patrol. Recently, I rearranged his closet to fit more stuff in it. It looks great and works like a charm... until something needs to be removed. I'd just taken down the giant Paw Patroller, and pulled out a bunch of track pieces and the lookout tower. I was sitting in the floor when Mal decided he wanted to get out his Cars, too, to play "Car Patrol."

"Okay. Your cars are right there, just inside the closet."

In fact, I'd just picked ALL of them up and put them away to make room for the new play sets. Mal, who was sitting halfway between me and the closet, said, "You get them!"

"Nope."

Mal insisted louder that I get the Cars. At one point, he got mad that I was playing with Rider on a bike and took him from me, hiding him on the far side of the room and walking much further than he would have had to in order to have gotten his cars.

"Mom! You get them!"

"Why can't you get them? You're much closer and they're right there."

"Because I'm scared of the monster!"

"Well, so am I. I don't like monsters."

"There are no monsters that live in my home; there's only me and my family."

"THEN YOU CAN GET YOUR OWN CARS!"

"NO, MOMMY, YOUUUUU!!!"

He climbed over me and asked for "deedees" and kept insisting I get his cars. At some point, we got back onto the monsters. I told him I was still scared, and to prove to me that there weren't monsters, he opened his closet door, revealing the Cars bag.

I pointed this out, and he hid behind me saying, "But I'm still scared!" I told him I was, too. He said, "But the monster will eat me because I'm a kid! He won't eat you!"

"Yes he will! He'll say, 'Look! There's a big lady. I'm not wasting my time with this little kid. I want the giant treat!' Then he'll eat me and poop me out later and it'll be really gross."

I can't tell you what happened after that, except that neither of us got the cars and a few hours later, when one of Mal's friends came over, he did try to get the cars himself, but the bag got hung up on a drawer knob. Again with the "everything fits, but just don't try to move anything."

And this, friends, is why my brain is how it is these days. This is how I spend my hours. Good times. Gooooood times.

Decoding and Interstellar Visitors

When we were sitting in the car waiting for D to emerge from Dr. Who: Twice Upon a Time, Mal seemed to be zoning out, talking to himself. Then I realized what he was doing: "C... I... N... E... M... A... R... K."

He has been obsessed lately with "starts with." He'll get it wrong as often as he gets it right, but this morning when he was talking to James, he did something he's never done before: He spelled his name. They were talking about words that start with "m" and James said, "Your name starts with 'm.'" "M-A-L."

Along with this interest in spelling, he's just recognizing tons of corporate logos. Gosh, we're so... proud? Anyway, we can't sneak anywhere because he knows more than "French fry," which is how he used to refer to McDonald's AND Sonic. Also, we might eat fast food too much.

Guess what else? Mal has a new friend, and that guy is a bad influence.

It started the other day, when Mal wanted more Oreos but had eaten a whole row of them already. I told him that we needed to save some for the rest of the family. Mal went into our bedroom, came back, and said, "He told me I could have more Oreos." I asked, "Who? Your dad?" James had been with me in the kitchen the whole time. Mal said, "No. Him. Audie-ah-Poddy." "Well, tell him he's wrong. You cannot have any more."

Then yesterday, after I explained for the bazillionth time that he can't have more than two vitamins, Mal said, "He said yes." "I said no. Sorry. It can be dangerous to take too many vitamins." "Audie-ah-Poddy said yes. He's an alien." Oookay.

Finally, tonight the alien told him he could take his new Tonka micro fire station into Chick-fil-A after I'd said it was a bad idea because there were so many small parts. What a jerk that guy is.

Last night, in the bathtub, Mal was asking about aliens. He asked whether they were human, and I told him it depended. We talked about extraterrestrials and about anyone in a foreign place. He mused over it for a moment and said thoughtfully, "I love human aliens. They're so interesting to me." But I think he meant ETs, because then he said he wanted to go to Roswell (which he only knows from a 30-second video my parents took of some space creatures getting ready to beam off the planet). I had to promise him we'd go some time, but it probably won't be until he's 10 or so. Fortunately, he's still a bit gun-shy, so he's fine with waiting.

At the end of his bath, which is turning into a semi-eternal affair every dang day, Mal let the water out while he was still in the tub. He wanted to see the "tornado," then still just sat there after the water was gone. I asked him if he wanted to get out, because it was pretty chilly, but he said no. A couple of minutes later, he hollered out, "Oh no! I don't have balls anymore!" James assured him they'd reappear when he warmed up.

I think of a million things I want to write down during the day, but it's 12:20 AM and I think I'm done for now. I need to start jotting stuff down so I can remember it once I finally get to sit down for a hot minute, which feels less and less likely lately. Good night, friends!