As only a child could say ...

I will never stop appreciating the way kids say things. I don't know when, in our lives, we make that shift from childlike insight or phrasing, but it's almost a shame that we lose that. Aidan has always been a very articulate child, mastering language from a very early age (by his first birthday he was saying about 60 words). At almost-five, I can't get him to stop talking, but much of the time I find what he says completely endearing. I love the way he looks at things, the way he processes things ...

- Aidan said to me the other day, "Mommy, you sure do have a lot of jobs to do. Your job is to always do something [oops - is this a chastisement of my neglect? More Candyland and less cleaning toilets?], cleaning up, going places ... and loving me." How could I not hug that little boy and say that's one of the best jobs that I could ever have? It's one of the most difficult sometimes, but what a great thing to say. He then said, "I have jobs too. My job is to clean up, to teach Grace things like not to hit, and to give you hugs." What a kid.

- When I looked in the rear view mirror to check on my kids in the car, I saw Aidan looking back at me very intently. I asked him what he was doing, and he said very seriously, "Mommy, you do not have an eye on the back of your head." What?! Where did that come from? "Daddy told me he can always see me because he has an eye in his head. But you just don't have one, so you can't see me." Oh, little boy, I can certainly see you ...

- When driving home from an errand, Aidan opened his window and took a deep breath. "I'm just smelling the wind, Mommy. Just smelling the wind."

- I couldn't keep Aidan in the dark about my mom's condition any longer, since he clearly knew something was going on by the fact that she was absent for quite a while, there's been lots of crying in the house, and his daily trips upstairs "just for a little visit" have been curtailed. I explained to him that she had to go to the hospital for "one sleepover" (his frame of reference) ... "Just like Curious George!" he said. I then said he has to be very careful when he sees Grandma because she is going to have a very big boo-boo. I got a little anxious when he asked where, since we haven't delved into anatomy lessons much, but when I answered it was her chest, he said, "Oh, OK. I understand. I'll be very careful when I hug her." Hmmmm ... hugging makes me a little nervous, so I suggested he hug her leg or some other neutral area. After some contemplation he responded, "No, I don't think so. It's just not the same. I'll make sure I huge her real, real loose."

- Aidan was trying to figure out the concept of having an allergy. I don't have any so I wasn't very helpful. He asked if Daddy had an allergy, and I said yes: to cats. He asked if Jack had an allergy, and I said yes: to grass (I'm not kidding. My Beagle, my hunter-dog, is allergic to grass). He then said, "I have an allergy too." I said, "No you don't, although you do have strange reactions to Motrin." He argued, "Oh, yes I do. I'm allergic to bad boys."

- My oldest brother, Steve, and his family came to visit my parents. In order to allow them a quiet visit together, I took their son, Steven (3), outside with my kids. Aidan and Grace have these giant rubber balls in the yard, about the size of exercise balls, and Aidan enjoys inventing fun tricks such as running and diving on to the ball (and promptly rolling/bouncing off), etc. I overheard him say, "Steven! Watch me do this cool trick!" Steven answered, "I can't." Aidan replied, "What?! What do you mean? You're my cousin -- you have to watch me!" Love the logic.

- Gotta add Grace in here. She chatters like a squirrel on speed, but as the summer has unfolded so has our understanding of her language. One thing that I like harkens back to Aidan's babyhood. When some kids want to be picked up, they say things like "Up" or, as one sweet girl we know says, "Uppy-Down." Aidan always said, "Mommy held" or "Daddy held," obviously depending on the parent. There are some cute things a parent just loves to hear, and I never corrected him. In fact, at almost-5, he still says this on those rare moments when he needs to be cuddled (often after a fall, or if he's not feeling well). You can imagine my happiness when Grace picked up on this; now she too says "Mommy helt" (yes, that's a deliberate misspelling -- she sticks a "t" on the end, for some reason). This morning when she woke up, Don went to get her from her crib, and I heard him laugh. He later told me that when he walked in the room, he was followed by our dog. Grace looked at Jack and said, "Jackie helt! Jackie helt!" Jack's not the biggest fan of Grace -- he doesn't reciprocate her devotion. She's pulled his tail or tried to ride him like a horse one too many times. I seriously doubt he's going to pick her up any time soon, but what a cute thing for her to say.