Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Mommiest Moments: January, 2013

Sam: [randomly] I love my mommy.
Mommy: [melting] Oh, Sammy, it makes me so happy when you say that. [hug] I love my Sammy, too. I'm so glad Heavenly Father sent you to my family.
Sam: [nodding sagely] Ewuh loves mommy. Danny loves mommy... [pause] ALL the guys love mommy!
--I think "all the guys" was a spontaneous and unassisted grouping of every male in the family. Caused by a little laziness. :)
--Sam has been saying “I love my mommy” a lot lately. I’m lovin’ it. Great refueling.

Sam: [looks up at mom with innocent eyes and smiles adorably]
Mommy: Oh, Sammy, you’re so cute. [She picks him up and hugs him]
Sam: [hugging back] No, Mommy, I not a baby.
Mommy: No, I know you’re not a baby anymore. But you’re still cute.
Sam: [firmly shaking his head] No, Mommy. I not a baby. I a Sammy.
Mommy:  Are you saying that only babies can be cute?
Sam: Da. [Aside—why has he been saying ‘yes’ in Russian for the last few months? I find this very odd.]
Mommy: But non-babies can still be cute. Eric is cute. Daniel is cute. I myself—
Sam: No, Mommy. Jeffwey cute. Jeffwey a baby. I not a baby. I a Sammy. [Pause] [In the tone of somebody saying “That’s so silly”] Mommy not a baby! Noooo.

--Despite my best efforts, I cannot convince him that non-babies can be cute in general, or that he is still cute specifically.

My mother says that girls just do lots more drama and shifting alliances than boys. But based on the soundbytes coming from the living room, I’m not sure I believe her. In a one-minute interval, I heard quotes like:
Daniel:  I thought we were forming an alliance against Sam.
Eric: No, we are battling among ourselves.
[At least three foam swords resume bashing in a grand melee.]
Eric: Daniel, NO. We do NOT kill captives who have surrendered. 
[Especially important since Eric was the captive. I wonder if he would have been quite so protective of Sam…]

[After Eric’s first practice with the high school math group.]
Eric: So, around half the people did not get problem 1 correct. I was one of them. It involved not reading the question correctly. I got problems #2 and #3 right. And problem #4 involved logarithms, but I happened to remember enough about logarithms to get the answer correct.
Mom: That’s great! Dad will be happy to hear that. I know I haven’t done any logarithms with you, so he must have been the one to teach you about them.
Eric: No, I think I just read it in a book somewhere a while ago.
--Of course he did. Okay, so on the bright side, I don’t have to pay for college courses; I just have to buy him math books to read to himself, right?
--Also, if it makes you lesser mortals out there feel any better, he got stuck on problems 5 and 6.

Sam: Daddy, my shirt hurts.
Jon: Your shirt hurts? Is it broken? Is it bleeding? Does it need a band-aid?
Sam: Daddy, no! [He could tell he was being mocked, and he clearly did not like it.] My shirt hurts! It needs sympathy!
Jon: Oh. Poor, poor, suffering shirt! Sympathy, sympathy!
Sam: Thanks, Daddy. [Apparently he didn’t care about being mocked as long as he got what he wanted out of it.]

Gail:  [playing Minecraft] I had a respectable flock of chickens. Then there was this incident with a creeper…I don’t want to talk about it. Anyway, I spent a long time herding all the animals back. Except the chickens, who made a clean escape.
[Later] None of my eggs hatched. I have no more chickens! I don’t want to cheat by going into creative mode…I know. I’ll go visit Sam’s farm. [pause] Aaagh! Sam is out of chickens, too! Fine. I will go into creative mode on Sam’s farm, spawn a bunch of chickens, and come back and harvest the eggs tomorrow. It’s not cheating that way. [Jon laughs at me silently.] Don’t judge me!
--I have no option but to go into creative mode to keep Sam’s “farm” stocked. His farm is actually a playground where he can run around and “ha” every animal in sight. If I didn’t “cheat” every two days and re-stock his “farm,” he would soon break down the fence and start destroying neighboring property. Much better to keep the toddler placated.

Sam says such random things. Here are two examples from two consecutive hours:
Mom: Sam, can you please bring me the wet wipes?
Sam: No, I’m stuck in my house.

Sam: [In the kitchen] This is not like a road. This is like a kitchen.

“Sam just showed me a piece of paper with scribbles on both sides. He pointed to the first side and said “That’s my masterpiece.” Then he pointed to the other side and added, “That’s ANOTHER masterpiece!””
--Gail, to Jon. Upon  questioning, I discovered that Daniel had taught him the word. Go siblings!

Mommy: Sammy, does Eric put his pee and poop in his pants?
Sammy: No.
Mommy: Does Daniel pee and poop in his pants?
Sammy: No.
Mommy: Where do they put their poop?
Sammy: In’a potty.
Mommy: That’s right. Babies use diapers. Big people use the potty. Or the toilet. Does Mommy wear a diaper?
Sam: [In the “that’s silly” voice] Nooo.
Mommy: That’s right. Because I am a Big Girl.
Sammy: Daddy a boy. Ewuh and Danny a boys. Mommy a guhl. I not a guhl ANY MORE. I a Sammy.”
--Um. Drat, I think he rather internalized the wrong lesson there. Sigh.


Carolyn said...

My offer to adopt Sammy still stands!

Jon said...

I love these! Thank you so much for writing them down, Sweetheart. I'd forgotten all about the broken shirt. It made me laugh, again.

I laughed out loud several times while reading this and Sam kept asking me "What's so funny, Dad?"