MOTHERHOOD RIGHT NOW / HUCK'S GREATEST HITS PART TWO

I didn't think I'd have enough to do another of these so soon. This isn't even all of them. What can I say? I birthed a character. Huck for President!

Randomly, at the playground:

Huck: Are there any more kids who are stuck on band aids, Mom? Are they on the piano chair??

Me: Wait--piano chair?

Huck: Yeah.... Maybe....

Just waking up the other morning, shooting straight up in his blankets, his eyes shut tight, his hair a fantastic mess of bed head:

"Is it Christmas!?!? It was a second ago! There was snow!! But then it dis-der-ppeared.... How did it do that? Wait, let me check the day in case it's snowing." 

(Pads over to the window, clearly sleep drunk, like, this was not at all a straight line he was walking) 

"Oh. No snow. (Exaggerated frowny face). But it IS day out. (Brightens up.) Am I going to school now?" 

While coloring, after I told him I was going to take a bath, in a very sing-song-y voice:

"Okaa-yyyyy. Come back if you neeeeed meee."

After yet another epic you-need-to-go-potty-you're-dancing-around-so-just-go! negotiation:

"Noooo! I don't want to go peep!" 

(Suddenly remorseful) 

"Mom.... sometimes we get angry at each other. Sometimes everybody gets angry. But they don't go pee pee."

This one was reported to me the other night after date night:

Babysitter: Huck, are you ready to wind down for bedtime?

Huck: (stalling) "Uhhhh.. hey! I have eyebrows! Like you!"

While walking home from school one afternoon and suddenly noticing a sweet scent in the air. He said this in a rather alarmed tone, you have to picture him like a twitchy squirrel in order to fully appreciate this one:

"Mom! What does it smell like!?!?!?!? .... I think it smells like.... BROWNIES!!!! Mom I love those brownies, Mom! I looooove them!!!!!!!"

On the couch on afternoon in nothing but his undies, his eyebrows furrowed at me:

"Didja eat my apple, Mom? Didja? ....  You did, didn't you."

(I totally did.)

Before bed one night, after talking through a difficult moment we'd had earlier that day:

"I'm the boss of my poops, and I'm in charge of my farts" 

(He meant to say thoughts. But, you know. I laughed for hours.)

Panicked about bath time, suddenly in negotiation mode:

"Wait! Nooo. No, that's not right, basketballs go in the bath! I'm not a ball! I'm not bouncy!"

After discovering a hole in his favorite pants:

Mom: Oh honey, I think these pants are dead. Look at that hole.

Huck: *giggles* Mom, they're not dead.

Mom: Yeahhh, they're pretty dead, we're not going to wear these anymore. But maybe as pajamas?

Huck: But Mom. They're not dead. I didn't drop them off the rooftop or something. 

After I'd absentmindedly said no to something Huck was asking for that I somehow knew he really shouldn't have, even though I wasn't really listening all the way when he asked (I was sending an email), but I'd just hit send and was turning all my attention over to Huck, who was currently pleading his case, and this is where I picked up:

"... Mama, come on, doooo this. You're the BEST. You can DO it! You're the greatest mom EVER, but you're not letting me get candy! So come on, Mama. Do it. Come on you're the GREATEST."

To a boy scout who was handing out fliers for a senior citizens fundraiser deal, from his dad's shoulders, Huck's royal throne:

"Hey! Hello! I'm a kid! Just like you!"

One afternoon at home after spilling his popcorn:

"Mom? Will you do me a favor? Will you cleam up? Will you pick up the popcorn and put it in the trash can, please? Do it now."

At Starbucks, after he realized he'd lost his nickel:

"Oh no! My nipple!!!!!!"

While getting situated to finally go to the bathroom after a very long, very stubborn discussion about why we go potty right when we have to instead of waiting forever and nearly not making it in time:

"Don't even LOOK at me!"

Last one:

One night a little bit ago we were having ourselves a particularly hard time being friendly with each other. Huck was resisting bedtime with a vengeance, and I, well I was feeling done with it, ready for the day to be over, and rather firm and disciplinarian-y in the moment, so I declared it a very serious, very angry Time Out, sat him down in his room, shut the door quite firmly, and then leaned up against the door so I could be sure he wasn't going to open it prematurely and ruin my Mean Mom Moment. It was pretty spectacular, really, we were both playing our roles to the hilt. Huck seemed thrilled at the chance to be so blatantly naughty, throwing himself against the door with all his weight, and pounding and kicking and shouting through the wall at me, grunting and huffing and saying things like "I. AM. MAD, MOM," with every pound and kick for added measure. Strange to say, but I could sort of tell in the moment that neither one of us were really taking it that seriously, more like we'd both reached a level and needed to get it out of our systems. And then, suddenly, the pounding ceased. It got really quiet. Eerily quiet. In the silence I crouched down low, put my ear to the door, and held my breath. What is he up to in there? I wondered. This cannot bode well.

Suddenly, the sound of his heavy breathing appeared near my ear through the door. And then, muffled a bit by the wood and, I'm guessing, his hands as he cupped them around his mouth, he sang out to me,

"Do you want to build a snowmaaaan?"

I really don't know what I'm supposed to do with that.