Thanks to the will my son has inherited from both of our genes we are being forced to learn another language.
All before he grasps ours completely.
I know that he thinks he is speaking clearly. But the ramblings he gives us are more along the lines of something that really requires subtitles. Or a full time interpreter.
The real kicker?
Get it wrong and he has a meltdown.
Case in point: snacks.
Before we could put anything in a bowl and he'd be content. Now, though, you have to go with him to the kitchen and present him with all his options. Cookie Crisp, 2 different kinds of Cheerios, and a tub of Animal Crackers courtesy of Sam's Club are proffered.
9 out of 10 times that will be it.
But, you see, my son has memorized where the good snacks are hiding.
So a shake of the head, a point to another cupboard or cookie jar, all these most be taken note of in order to ascertain if what you are currently juggling will work or if you will have to move fast for something else.
My husband is slowly realizing this.
I just diffused a bomb that was about to blow because James had been eating a bowl of Cookie Crisp just fine and then suddenly went into the kitchen and began to whine.
The cause?
Well, he didn't want a sweet snack anymore. Daddy kept saying that he had something in his bowl, but that wasn't fixing it.
Took 2 minutes, but I pinpointed what the new snack needed to be and got that out in time to prevent any further complications.
James is now happily sitting with both snacks at his desk and watching the news.
Don't even get me started about dinner time here....
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