Pierce has this wonderful little voice that sometimes lisps and often times struggles with double consonant sounds like “gr” and “tr”. He’s been known to make “Fire Truck” sound like a really hot quickie! The great irony that contrasts his speech is the complex thoughts and contributions he offers to conversation. Totally unexpected! He’s definitely established his own rules on things, and he is enthusiastic with his observations.
The other day Frammy—see what I mean by the double consonants? was taking Pierce with her somewhere, and they were just pulling out of the driveway when he asked with a smirk, “Are we there yet?” Grammy just laughed, but later she turned it around on him and asked, “Are we there yet?” to which he replied “You can’t say that, Frammy, only kids can!”
Last night when Mikey, Pierce and Grammy were all crammed into her queen sized guest bed to sleep for the night, the boys got the giggles as soon as the lights went off. Mikey swore he was trying to stop laughing but he just couldn’t, but Pierce said that he “asn’t laughing—“I’m just smiling, Frammy,” as he descended further into hysterics.
As we pulled into my parents’ neighborhood yesterday he exclaimed “We are almost to Frammy’s ever-y-body!” We’re gonna have a sleep over! I yike sleep-overs!” His enthusiasm is so dear it’s infectious, I could just eat him. However, we have a ritual for saying goodbye that is so very important, that if we don’t take the steps seriously, he will meltdown with such heartbreak that it’s hard to calm him down.
Here is the drill: When we are about to leave, I squat down, and he comes to give me a sweet little smooch on the lips, a really snuggly hug and then he steps back, waves at my face and exclaims “Good-byyyye!” If I say it louder than him, he tells me “No wait—I didn’t get to say goodbye!” Then he will wave and say it again, but if I say “See you later” or, god forbid am having a conversation with anyone else and miss his goodbye, he becomes frantic that I am not going to say it back to him. Nana was witness to one of these meltdowns when I dropped him off on day, because he thought since I was talking to her I would leave without acknowledging the ritual. The good thing, though, is that if we discuss the need for our ritual ahead of time, and then carry it out to the science that it has become, I could pretty much leave him anywhere—he’s just that content and safe after our send off! Honestly, I love the whole dynamic because it’s so tender, and I get so much from it, too!
Yesterday afternoon we drove into the city to a beautiful park downtown, where we could walk around the lake, play in the park, and feed the swans. I hadn’t been there in years, and it was lovelier than ever. There were also more black and white swans that before, and we can feed them bird food for 25 cents. Once again, Greg and I in our ongoing efforts to ensure a life in strait jackets and rubber rooms for our children, we decided to let Pierce feed the swans some food. He wanted to throw it at them—actually I think he intended to throw it to them, but it looked like he was going to launch a handful of pellets in the giant bird’s face, so I made him hold his palm out, open with the food. Yeah…I guess it can be scary when you are eye to eye with a giant bird whose only fluid grace is exhibited when it’s on the water. A giant black, grabby beak tried to gobble all the food out of Pierce’s hand, but I think my child thought the swan was trying to eat him. Then came the frantic tears, as well as the shame visited upon Greg and I for another case of the “bad judgments.” We quickly got moving through the park, away from the mob of hungry swans, and everyone got back to normal. Then Pierce said, “I wanted to throw the food on the ground for them to eat.” So I told him that we could do it that way next time. He started to whine and get upset again exclaiming “No! He will try to eat me again!” I guess that’s how it seems to someone 40” tall at best.
All this terror for Pierce, on the heels of us finally realizing just this week, that it was our horrible decision to take Mikey on the Twister Experience at Universal Studios last year, which was the advent of his irrational fear of thunderstorms. Not sure how it took that long to make the connection…