You are Visitor No.
My gorgeous son, Xander (who will be four years old in September – where has the time gone?!) has the ability to melt me with the simplest sweet nothing, or stop me in my tracks with some profound pondering.
Here are a few of his latest that have made me laugh, smile or shake my head in disbelief:
Do small kids know something we don’t?
After my in-laws’ dog, Ellie, passed away, Xan started asking questions, but stunned me with his own idea of what happens when we die…
Xan: Ellie died, didn’t she?
Me: Yes, she did.
Xan: Why did she die?
Me: She’s been alive for a very long time and was very unwell and her body wasn’t working properly any more. She was in a lot of pain, so she just stopped living and now she doesn’t hurt any more.
Xan: Oh. That’s a good thing then, isn’t it?
Me: Yes, I suppose it is.
Xan: She’s buried in the garden, isn’t she?
Me: Yes, she is.
Xan: But that’s just her body – Ellie isn’t really in there any more.
Me: Is that right?
Later that day…
Xan: Mummy, if I died, you and Daddy would cry forever, wouldn’t you?
Me: Yes, I think we would because we would miss you so much.
Xan: But it’s OK, because I would just go to be a baby again. I just wouldn’t be YOUR baby any more!
Me: Is that right?
Xan: So, has Ellie gone to be a puppy again?
Me: If that’s what happens, then I think she must have done.
Xan: That’s good. Because Ellie was a nice dog.
More on life after death…
While walking home from nursery, Xander suddenly came out with this…
Xan: Mummy, I used to be a grown up, you know.
Me: Is that so?
Xan: Yes, I was a Daddy. But I wasn’t married – she had to go to be a baby again.
Me: You were a Daddy? Did you have boys or girls?
Xan: I had ten boys and one girl, and YOU were my little girl, Mummy! But now I’m a little boy again and it’s YOUR turn to be MY Mummy!
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder!
Our morning routine seldom varies, and it was time for me to get myself ready to face the world…
Me: I’m off to do my face.
Me: To make myself look all beautiful.
Xan: Mummy, you don’t need to paint your face.
Me: Oh, I do, darling. I need to make myself all pretty.
Xan: You DON’T need to paint our face to make yourself pretty, Mummy, because you’re already beautiful!
I’ve always been terrified of spiders – even the tiniest ones – but I’m determined not to pass that phobia on to my son, so I’ve been very brave and am now able to get quite close to small ones, but they still wig me out on the inside. Today there was a spider the size of my thumb nail in the bath tub. I was so brave and my son will never know it!
Xan: Mummy, look! Incy Wincy spider is in our bath! I think he can’t get out!
Me: That’s alright, darling, he’s just having a little wander around and Daddy will rescue him later when he gets home from work.
Xan: Why don’t YOU rescue him, Mummy?
(Big gulp and minor panic on the inside whilst still smiling on the outside!)
Me: Alright, I’ll just get something to help. (I get some card and a plastic container) Come on, Incy Wincy, you can walk onto the card and I’ll take your outside.
Xan: Why do you need the card and pot for him, Mummy?
Me: That’s so we don’t scare Incy Wincy. We’re a lot bigger than he is and we don’t want to scare him, do we? (Xan shakes his head) So we let him walk onto the card, then we pop the pot over him – see? It’s clear so he can still see where we’re going and not get scared, but he won’t fall off either. See? He’s not scared at all because he knows we’re helping him and being careful!
I deposit said spider on the veranda
Xan: That was very kind of you, Mummy – now Incy Wincy can go home to HIS Mummy!
Xander hasn’t been very well this week – a cough and a high temperature have made him feel rather under the weather, but it hasn’t stopped him being a sweet little boy. In fact, I’ve found that when he’s ill, he tends to be on his best behaviour – perhaps because he doesn’t have the energy to act up! Continue reading
The festive season is fast approaching and although as I type this I am all sorted in the gift shopping and wrapping department, we have started to tentatively approach the subject of Santa Claus with Xander who, at three-years-old, is now getting to an age where he might start to understand such things. So far he shown more than a little apprehension at the thought of a strange man creeping into our home while we’re all sleeping (which is fair enough, really), but all year he’s said he would really like some bridges for his train set. Continue reading