December 14th, 2004


Why I Have a Child

Yesterday I was Very Not Well. I'm not sure if it was a stomach flu, a bad bit of crab, or a far too potent vitamin, but...

I was sitting on the toilet when Jet walked in and proceeded to serenade me about: how stinky it was in the bathroom, where poop and pee should go, the green and blue on the shower curtain being the ocean, how bright the light could go, how he ate a vegetable, what color Thomas was, about engines on a choo-choo, and then proceeded to sit down and talk with me about what's on a choo-choo... engine, smoke stack, etc.

In the midst of that fine entertainment the phone rang and Jet said, "I'll get it." and climbed his computer chair and got the phone and started explaining to the person on the other end about how Momma had to use the potty... luckily it was John calling to coordinate the last of the day. Jet handed the phone over as soon as I asked him to. I told John that I was too sick to do much, and that we'd plan for a quiet evening. I then turned the phone off.

Jet looked at me and then asked me, "Are you sick again?" in exactly the same tone my mother asked me later that evening, on the telephone, and when I said that I was, he kissed me on the head and gave me a hug.

Then, when I really needed a nap, he asked for the Dora tape and curled up on top of me and pulled a big blanket over both of us, and I promptly went to sleep. I could tell he was on me, and when he moved off I woke up and could see if he needed anything before dropping off again. I got a good hour that way. It amazes me to what lengths I now go, as a parent, to make sure my child is safe. I know another mother, with a very active son, who would arrange for her naps the same way, as long as he was sitting on her, she could nap, as she would put toys within his reach, but there was nothing dangerous so long as he was right on her.

When John got home, he was the one that put Jet to bed and when he came down he said, "You have a weird son."


"He insisted that I read The Two Towers to him as his night book. A three-year-old nodding off gently to Boromir son of Theo--whatchamacall it blah blah Minas Tirith blah blah... and he was trying to follow it!"

What's mildly amazing about that is that up to this point we've mostly just read picture books to Jet, and the night before last, Jet had insisted that I read The Fellowship of the Ring to him. He pulled me into the library and sat on my lap and wanted the book about "the scary movie" he'd been watching during the weekend. I got through half a chapter, and then put him to bed and it was mildly interesting going as every other sentence generated questions like when it described well-tilled farmland as a hobbit's favorite haunt, Jet asked, "Hobbits haunt?! Like ghosts?!" I didn't even know he knew the word "haunt". Maybe that's the best kind of reading material. Now I have to find The Hobbit for him.
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