I was determined this morning to share some special time with my boy.
The days are ticking away. School is starting again soon. "The Fall" is coming, as Drew reminds me almost daily. His little sister is scheduled to make her debut "when the pumpkins come out".
In short, if our lives as a little family of three were a day, it is sunset... and I want to appreciate the glorious colors and the relaxation that comes with a day well-spent.
So, in that poetic frame of mind, I asked my son if he'd like to do something special with me. His response, "What? Like sit - or lie down?"
He's an observant little boy, I'll give him credit. My activities have alternated lately between those exact two things.
But I was undeterred. We were going to have a special morning. So, we got dressed and made our way to the mall for some back-to-school shopping. Once we arrived, I had a brilliant idea. The Build-A-Bear Workshop!
We walked in and examined each and every unstuffed animal. Drew chose an owl for his sister and some kind of terrier dog for himself. Not being that much of a "bird" person (or really a "terrier" kind of girl, either), I was able to talk my child into getting two identical standard teddy bears - one for him and one for his sister.
We proceeded to stop #2, where he was instructed to fluff up his bear, choose a heart, make a wish, and place the heart inside his creation. While his bear was being stuffed and fluffed, I listened as my child carried on a conversation with the lady doing all the stuffing.
What's your name? Andrew.
How old are you? Four.
I really like your hair. Thanks! I use mousse and then hairspray.
Wow... that's great.
As he stuffed the baby's bear, he carried on the conversation:
Who's this one for? My sister
And how old is she? She's not born yet. She's coming in "The Fall"
What month? When the pumpkins come out.
What's her name going to be? (Let's call her "Pearl". I haven't told you her name yet, have I?) Pearl.
He picked out a basketball jersey for his bear and named it "Basketball Bear". He's incredibly creative and imaginative, don't you think?
He then picked out two pink hairbows (after I nixed the leopard print cutoff top and mini skirt he chose for baby's bear) and named her "'Pearl' Bear". Again, I am dumbfounded by his imagination (and slightly concerned over his attraction to clothes of the less-than-modest variety... I'll be watching that first girlfriend closely).
The freshly stuffed animals were placed in their new boxed up homes and we were off to the clothing store across the street.
Our next mission was to find a new backpack and lunchbox for school. He noticed the camoflauged lunch boxes at the front of the store. "I like these, but let's keep looking for what I really need." OK... He had his mind set on a certain piece of apparel that he had determined was not well-represented in his 4-yr old wardrobe. We couldn't find any.
"Let's ask for some help, mommy!"
We patiently waited for the sales assistanct to finish with the customer at the register. She acknowledged me when she was ready for the next customer, and before I could make our request, Drew stood up on his tip toes and caught her eye. Ever-so-politely, he began, "Excuse me, but, where are your... do you have any ties?!"
Ties? She asked me.
"Yes, neckties", I confirmed. "He only has one, and we're looking to add to his collection."
Well, just the ties that go with the school uniforms in the front of the store.
With this bit of direction, he was off to see his one choice. It met his approval, so we purchased another necktie "for church and for when all my playclothes are dirty and I can wear it to school."
I could tell that the salesperson was amused. But not just by this four-year old's penache for business attire.
I like your hair, she commented.
"Thanks. I use mousse and then hairspray on it."
(Note: We get this comment almost everywhere we go, and I promise I will soon add pictures of Drew's hair-dos. Complete with his own video tutorial. We've been working on it.)
We departed with another mission successfully completed. As we drove toward work, my son pitched a bit of a tantrum as we passed by his favorite fast food restaurant without stopping. A few moments later, I asked him a question and got silence from the backseat. Adjusting my mirror at the stoplight, I asked, "Are you pouting?"
"Yes, I am." he replied.
"Does it make you feel any better to pout?"
"Yeah, me either. Just checking."
He was his normal self again as we arrived at work and I handed him off to spend the afternoon at Grandma's house.
"See you at 5 o'clock, mom!" he chirped.
Yeah, I thought. Five o'clock it is. Almost sunset.
And it's been a good day.