Driving home today, “Moves Like Jagger” came on the radio. As usual, Besh greeted the song with his standard “Oh yeah!”
Since it’s the radio version there’s an edited line that says “I don’t give a sh!” We’ve heard it dozens of times. This time something clicked.
Besh: “Daddy, what was he going to say?”
Me: “Oh, I think he was just saying ‘Shhhhh!’ like he wants people to be quiet.
Besh: “Oh.”
Long pause.
Besh: “I thought he was going to say ‘shit.’”
This morning I took the boys on the Starbucks run. (Our barista knows them well at this point.) Isaac is now into exploring the front yard when we get home, having thoroughly explored the house. So it can be tricky to get him into the house without carrying him in (which he’s less than thrilled about, being the independent, sophisticated, 2 days from 2-years-old). He likes to step over the small retaining wall. Or walk to the front door. Or pretend to run into the street. You know, kid stuff.
While trying to convince him that inside was the place to be, Besh calmly walked over to Isaac, turned back to the house and ran into the garage screaming.
Besh: “Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!”
Isaac, seeing his big brother do this crazy awesome game, did the same and ran after him.
Isaac: “Aaaahhhhh!”
As Isaac ran inside, I said, impressed,
Daddy: “Wow. Thanks, Besh!”
Besh shrugged.
Besh: “Works every time.”
This weekend ended on a sour note when we spent a day looking for Besh’s lost glasses. Happily, they were found this morning, but it still made for a pretty crazy Sunday where we turned the house upside down looking for them.
One positive note was when I took Isaac with me to go pick up dinner. I was in serious need of caffeine so I hit the Starbucks drive-through on the way. Isaac has seen this drive-through a few times in his short life (I admit I’m hopelessly addicted) and recently we’ve even been able to order him the same drink as his big brother (kid’s milk with sugar-free vanilla syrup) if there are enough hands in the car to transfer the milk from the Starbucks plastic cup to his sippy cup.
On this ride, there were not enough hands (and he’d just had a drink) but that wasn’t going to stop him. As I pulled up to the ordering speaker and rolled down my window, I hear the following scream from the back seat.
“Hi! Milk! Isaac!”
So there ya go, not quite 22 months old and he’s already ordering at the Starbucks drive-through. Parent of the Year Committee, you have my number, I’m expecting your call.
Yesterday Besh and I were fortunate enough to be invited over to cousin Brian, Elaine, and Eitan’s house for dinner. What made it so awesome was that cousin Brian, a gourmet chef in his spare time, had purchased an entire pig to roast and was having people over to partake.
One bit of Texas culture I’ve happily embraced for myself and Besh is barbeque. The day Besh was cleared to eat meat we went to Hut’s that night but drove to Lockhart the next morning for brisket. When we go to BBQ he’ll happily eat brisket and pork loin but his favorite is turkey these days.
Still, this was something that couldn’t be missed. But on the drive over, I started to get a bit nervous. This would likely be the first time Besh connected meat with animals. It’s a connection I’m not squeamish about, but I was concerned he would be. So I decided to have a chat with him.
Me: “Besh, you know where we’re going?”
Besh: “Cousin Eitan’s.”
“That’s right. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“You know how cousin Brian is an amazing chef?”
“Of course.”
“He’s roasting an entire pig!”
“You mean the animal?” Uh-oh, I thought.
“Yes, the animal. You know how we eat pork loin at barbeque?”
“Yes.”
“And do you like bacon?”
“Oh yes.”
“Well, pork and bacon all come from pigs.”
He thought about this a second, then said “Awesome.”
Sighing with relief and smiling, off we went to cousin Eitan’s house (which he happily lets his parents co-habitate).
Once there, the entire group patiently awaited the pig’s completion, and when it finally emerged it sat on the counter to rest. (It’d had a really rough day.) I asked Besh if he wanted to see it and he ran in and tried to pet it’s roasted snout, then pulled back because it was hot. He didn’t give it a second glance before going back to play with the other kids until dinner was ready.
At dinner, he was loving the bits of pork I gave him (tenderloin, shoulder, etc.). He made me go back and get him more meat two times, a record for him since he’s only ever asked for more once and that was at Smitty’s (good boy). He was loving the meat so much he started some of the kids in a screaming chant of “Cousin Brian is the best chef EVER!”
By the second time I went back for Besh the pickings were getting a bit slim, but I did notice one piece on the table. I absent mindedly wondered what it was since it seemed to have a lot of fat around it, that’s when someone pointed out it was part of the pork belly. I’m used to seeing pork on a plate, not a table, so I happily cut some up for Besh. I took it back to his table and trimmed most of the fat off then gave him a bite to try.
He chewed and chewed and chewed and swallowed. Then he paused.
Me: “How was that?”
He started waving his hands over his stomach and making a rumbling sound which slowly got louder as his hands got higher and higher until they reached his mouth and he flung them out.
Besh: “BOOM! That was so awesome I just exploded!”
Couldn’t agree more.
Today was a monumental day, the day Besher first saw Star Wars. Last week he announced he was ready, and yesterday I found the last boxed set of the original trilogy at Costco ($5 cheaper than Amazon yeah!).
Of course, by original I mean it’s the Luke-Leia-Han trilogy. Not original as in before Lucas messed with it in the 90s. But I digress.
Mommy was concerned that parts of it might be too scary, so I watched most of it with Besh. Just, you know, to make sure he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t.
Here are some of Besh’s observations during the movie:
“Did he drive that floating car? That doesn’t look safe.”
“Why doesn’t R2D2 fly?”
“How did they get the recording in R2D2?”
“See him? [Luke.] He’s wearing white. He’s a good guy.”
“Wait, those other guys wearing white [Stormtroopers] are bad guys?”
“How did they get Darth Vader’s costume on?”
And, when he asked his favorite part, he eagerly responded:
“The lightsaber fight with Darth Vader and the gray haired guy!”
Daddy: “You mean Obi Wan Kenobi?”
“Who’s that?”
“The gray haired guy.”
“Yeah. He fought Darth Vader. Did you know he fought Darth Vader?”
“I did know that. I’ve seen it, you know.”
“When you saw it, who did you think would win? Did you think ‘He’s going to win!’ ‘Oh, no, he’s going to win now!’ ‘Wait, now he’s winning!’?”
I laughed and told him I couldn’t remember. It was been a while. But I’m glad this huge event has taken place.
Tomorrow, he and I are going to have a long conversation about Han and Greedo.
So this about sums up why Besh is probably going to get in trouble down the road and it will be my fault entirely.
The other day I’m driving Besh home from our afternoon adventure. He was a bit cranky that afternoon, so when we hit a red light he got frustrated. “I want the cars to GO!”
Although there are a variety of ways to handle this kind of frustration, I went with silly that day.
“Yeah, cars! We want you to GO!” I yelled with him. He stared at me. “And you too, traffic light! I don’t want you to be red! Red like a strawberry! Red like blood! Red like a tongue! Red like ketchup!”
At this point he began to smile, so I kept going.
“We want you to be GREEN! Green like grass! Green like a tree! Green like broccoli! Green like a boogie!”
This pushed him over the edge and he started laughing hysterically.
“Green…like a…boogie,” he managed between laughs.
This got him home in a relatively good mood. It also stuck (no pun intended) and now when he’s in the car with Mommy he’ll ask the traffic lights to turn green like a boogie. Mommy told me that Besh said that in the car when I got home a day or two later.
“Yeah, but I was just in the car so it’s okay,” Besh responded. “Because it’s funny.”
He’s right. It is. And that’s why when he gets in trouble for stuff like this (well, not exactly like this, but for something similar) it’ll be all my fault. At least he can benefit from my school experiences and I can teach him how to minimize getting caught.
Sadly, two stories. Because if the two could be combined, it’d be much funnier. Still, this will have to do for the last post of 2009.
There’s been much conversation about Besher’s upcoming fourth birthday. Mostly to keep him excited and overcome any expected feelings of being overwhelmed with all the attention Isaac is getting right around now. Yesterday the conversation turned to his birthday cake/cupcake. He’s gone back and forth on whether to have a giant cake or a lot of cupcakes. Yesterday he was firmly in the cake camp as Sara, Nonni, Besh and Isaac were in the car on the way to gymnastics camp.
Besh: “I want a big cake. And I want four candles, Mommy. Not one candle with the number four but four candles!”
Sara: “Okay, and what flavor do you want your cake to be?”
“I want chocolate cake with chocolate icing?” (Note from Ryan: I’m so proud)
Nonni: “You know what would be delicious, Besher? Chocolate cake with strawberry icing!”
“No, I do not think I would love that. I want chocolate icing.”
Cake thus determined and gym camp attended, I took Besh later that day on a Besher/Daddy adventure (Buy Buy Baby and Target–because “adventure” is just another word for “errands with spin”). On the drive home Besh and I had a conversation about mice and rats, discussing the various rodents from movies and tv shows we enjoyed.
Me: “You know who else is a mouse?”
Besh: “Who?”
“Mickey Mouse.”
“That’s right!”
“You know who else?”
“Who?”
“Donald Duck!”
“No, Daddy. Donald Duck is a duck.”
“Oh. That makes sense.”
“Who is the girl duck? The one with Donald?”
“Daisy Duck?”
“Yes, that’s correct! That’s the one!”
A few minutes pass.
“Daddy, what was her name again? The girl duck?”
“Daisy Duck.”
“That’s right. Thank you, Daddy. I need to remember it in case anybody asks me.”
Visions of Sam Kinnison in Back to School, hunched over desk, yelling at Rodney Dangerfield somehow screaming “What’s the name of Donald Duck’s girlfriend? Say it! SAY IT!” flew through my head.
“Well now you know.”
“Yes, now I know. Daisy Duck.”
Yesterday I took Besh to the mall to do our normal play with toys at Pottery Barn Kids, ride the elevators, play the Wii at GameStop run that we do at least once a week. For the past month or so they’ve had one of those bunjie-cord-jump-on-trampoline deals in the center court. He’s seen them before, even tried one in Lake Tahoe a year ago. Well, he got strapped in and then freaked out.
Yesterday he decided he wanted to jump on it. So he did, for about 2 minutes until the guy helping him sent him flying really, really high and that scared him. But it was a good adventure.
On the way home, I wanted to make sure he wasn’t still scared. Got this surprise instead.
Me: “Besh, you remember the big jumping thing in the mall?”
Besh: “Oh yes!”
“That was fun!”
“It was fun. But it went too high.”
“Yeah. But if I was a little boy I would have gone super, super high. But they didn’t have those when I was a boy.”
“You were a little boy at some point?”
“Of course. But now I’m too big for that jumping thing.”
“Well, you know, sometime later you can be a little boy again.”
“I can?”
“Yes. When I grow up. And I will watch you.”
“That will be awesome!”
I suppose I could have called this one This is what happens when two lawyers have a toddler part 2, but how can I really have any sequels after the PIAB trilogy?
Today I took Besh out for an adventure. Attempted to avoid retail, given the date, but we did a brief stop to pick up lunch and so Besh could press buttons at Best Buy (“Oh no, Besh, don’t hit that non-Dell laptop quite so hard.”). Then we went to a local park to eat and play on the playscape.
After a while on the swings, rockwalls, slides, etc., it was getting close to time to go home.
Besh: “I want to do the swings.” He starts to walk towards the swings.
Me: “Okay, we can do the swings one more time.”
He stops, turns around, and stares at me.
“No. Not one more time. Again.”
“Oh, right, we can do the swing again.”
“Yes. Swing again.”
So we ended up staying a bit longer.
Besh and I do about one Daddy Adventure a week that includes Target. And for the past 5 or 6 weeks, that includes a visit with Spike the Ultra Dinosaur, a display with a button that makes Spike roar, stomp his feet, and have his back scales light up. You know, like the real dinosaurs.
Last week, sad times. Spike’s battery was low so he was malfunctioning. Well, sick was how I explained it. Today we had to do another Target run.
Me: “Ready for Target, Besh?”
Besh: “See Spike?”
“Yes, we’ll go see Spike.”
“Spike feel better? Not sick?”
“I hope so.”
Unfortunately, Spike was gone. Flushed down the great big toy toilet, I’m sure. Besh handled it well.
“Where Spike go?”
“Looks like he’s gone. Say bye bye, Spike.”
“Bye bye, Spike. Nice to press you.”
