Bananas, and Other Mysteries

I have decided that someone on Dateline should run a serious on the mysterious innerworkings of a toddler’s mind.  

For instance, Kenny eats three or four bananas a day.   One as soon as we come downstairs in the morning, one before climbing into his crib for naptime, an occasional one in the car, and one just before he climbs into the crib at bedtime.   I think I buy bananas every three days.   I actually begin to panic when I see that we are down to one in the fruit basket.   I’ve noticed though, today and yesterday, that he’s eating a little less than the whole banana… and begining to look at it suspiciously, as if perhaps a new fruit is about to take over.

Then there is the “Zero to Sixty” phenomenon.   By that I mean that he can be playing as content as can be with his blocks in the floor, then look up, his face crumpling into misery and yell, “Juice?   Juice?” and begin frantically looking around for his sippy cup (which is usually in arms length).   Or we will walk into a room and he will begin a shrill cry, then beg “Music on?   MUSIC!”   I am usually taken aback, wondering, “Why didn’t you just ask?”   It’s not like I said no to a previous request, or that I frequently deny him anything.     But the hysteria that insues is enough to make me feel like his head is about to do a 180.

My favorite is the car rides that cut it close to lunchtime.   We will be driving merrily along, and then Kenny will start his litany:   “Food!   Lunch!   ‘Nacktime!   Sand-witch!   FOOOOOODDDD!”   I will zoom us safely into the garage, release him from the entrapment of his carseat, and he’ll run down the sidewalk to the house.   Where he’ll immediately start playing with the toys on the porch, and refuse to come inside to have lunch.   “Play outSIDE!” he’ll explain, as if I’m a little thick these days.   That’s when I have to drag him, arms flailing and tears streaming, into his highchair where he will take two bites and proclaim, “All done!”

Not that all the mysteries are maddening ones.   There are the moments when he’ll stop playing to run over and say, “Mama kiss!” then run back to his business of trundling trains around their tracks.   Or the moments when he’ll come over to me with a book in hand and say, “Mama, read books.” and we sit and snuggle on the couch for a half hour or more and read and giggle and talk.   Then there is his facination with our next door neighbor, Bob, who is probably in his late sixties.   Kenny looks for him everytime we are outside, saying, “Where’s Mr. Bob?” or “Mr. Bob’s outside!” or “Tooties for Mr. Bob?” meaning that he wants to take a cookie over to him.  

Such a sweet and loving heart touches me everyday.   I am so grateful for my baby boy.   Even when he’s a baby maniac!