It's HOW it's said ... or perceived

Aidan has been cracking me up lately with the way he words things, sounding quite grown-up yet at the same time hilarious in the way he puts thoughts or phrases together. The latest ...

(In our daily argument/discussion over clothing -- who knew this would happen with a five-year-old boy):

"Mommy, I've been thinking. I must wear a handsome shirt today. My mind has been changed."

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Don figured out a way to hook up our computer (on one side of the room) to the TV and stereo system (on the other side). There are several reasons for this: to watch downloads on the TV, rather than huddling uncomfortably before the computer; to listen to internet radio or iTunes or something along those lines from our kickin' system instead of from puny computer speakers. Don was running a test of this new connection and randomly selected a piece by Mozart to do the job. Aidan instantly recognized the piece (which surprised me, for it was a rather obscure one), exclaiming, "Mozart! That's Mozart! Oh, I just love Mozart!" He sat there for quite a while, watching Don work and listening intently to the music.

A short while later Don finished his task and turned off the music. Aidan was beside himself. "No! No! Don't turn it off. Oh, Mommy, please ... please! ... maybe I listen to Mozart? Please?! Oh, we must! Please!!"

I have never heard a child plead for Mozart. It was awesome.

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OK, I can't leave out Grace. She has more than her fair share of humorous utterings, mostly in the form of mimicry, for I so often hear myself in her, each word punctuated with a wagging forefinger and incredible dramatic effect:

"You are being naughty!"
"Aidan, go to your room!"
"Are you listening to me?"
"Turn that TV off now!"
"Unnerstand?!"

Her imagination, too, is an more than active. Most recently she made a discovery that, for some crazy reason, has brought her (and us) an immeasurable amount of entertainment. One evening, when our living room was lit only by our Christmas tree, something caught her attention in my room. I watched her as she walked, cat-like, very slowly to the door of our room, her little body leaning one way, then another. You could see the look of intent on her face, the wheels turning as she tried to figure out just what she was looking at. From my vantage point on the couch I too could faintly see something on the floor, but I had no idea what it was. I didn't care about the object so much -- I was fascinated by her movements and her interest. She was stealthy, slow, deliberate as she made her way closer to the doorway, head cocked. Finally she stopped, planted her feet near the threshold, and leaned all the way forward, hands on her knees, her face now just a couple of feet away from the shadowy object. Suddenly she jerked, stood upright, her arm shooting forward, her outstretched finger pointing, eyes wide, mouth open. She figured it out:

"EEWWWWW! A giant poopy!"

I laughed -- the entire charade was hilarious. Yet she was extremely insistent and very serious about this discovery. I took another look, still seated on the couch, and yes indeed -- from my point of view, half hidden in the dark room, that shape did indeed look like something Jack left behind. That's impossible, I thought -- Jack is over 8 years old and the last time he did something like that was in his pre-trained puppyhood. It just can't be. I got up to take a better look.

Well, thankfully, it wasn't a "giant poopy." It was one of Aidan's rolled up socks, dark olive/brown in color. But boy, it sure did look like it. I laughed even harder. Grace, however, was not convinced. I picked it up and tossed it at her , to prove to her its innocence -- she ran screaming, arms flailing.

The rolled up sock is still lying around somewhere in the house, simply for the sake of amusement. Every once in a while someone finds it -- under the chair, in the oven of the toy kitchen, stuffed into a teapot, tucked in a doll's cradle. And every time it appears, Grace screams (in good humor), flails, exclaims "Giant Poopy! Giant Poopy!" It's amazing how something like that can bring such an endless amount of humor. We all know it's a sock ... or at least I think we all do ...