Here are abbreviated versions of two conversations I've had with Fletcher recently:
I'm sitting on the couch working away on the Airplane sweater when he sits down next to me:
"Why do you always just knit on that?"
"Because I like to. I want to make you a sweater."
"A green one."
"Yes, a warm green sweater with an orange airplane."
"Just stop it."
I set my yarn down and take a breath. I must go slowly here lest I loose all control of my mean-mommy voice.
We have been having lots of ISSUES lately with Fletcher ordering me around.
"I'm not going to stop, I want to finish this for you."
"I hate it. I hate orange."
At this point I am trying not to crack up. From his point of view I am making him something he never REALLY wanted and I have been working on it for what must seem like eternity to him. Also he did pick out this yarn in April and probably doesn't even remember it.
Later that night with Jim:
"Fletcher told me he hates this sweater and demanded I quite working on it."
Jim almost spits out is water:
"He said what?"
I repeat myself and go on:
"...... What should I do? I've made so many mistakes that I don't want to try to go back and fix. I don't love the sweater, and think he may never wear it. BUT, I was getting really excited about finishing my first sweater. BUT, I have so many other things I want to finish for Christmas. Should I just finish it and give it to him or rip it all out?"
"Don't rip it out. Just put it away and someday you'll pull it out and be excited about it again."
Here I cry - with relief. Thank-you genius husband, you made my day.
Fletch and I have just sat down to dinner, Jim is still at work. I made a pasta dish with cannellini beans, greens, kalamata olives, and garlic chips. It's fabulous and Jim loves it. Fletcher loves pasta.:
"I hate this stuff."
"What do you hate?"
"All this stuff. I want dry pasta."
"How do you know you hate it? You've never had it."
Age old parental intelect in action.
"I hate it."
"Just try it. If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it."
He takes a hesitant bite
"I love it!"
big smile, another big bite.
"I have never even ever had this before!"
I'm not saying much, just sitting there with my mouth hanging open in shock. This particular big of wisdom has never worked with my child.
"Will this help my poop come out better?"
Sorry folks, I could have left this out, but what the heck. We had recently had a conversation while Fletch was on the toilet constipated about the fact that if he ate more fruits and vegatables, particularly green ones his poop would come out easier.
"Yes, this will help your poop come out better."
more quiet eating, he is still picking out some of the larger tomato pieces, and while looking down at his plate tending to this task he says under his breath:
"You make the best dinners."
This is were I cried, literally. Thanks, Fletch, you just made my day. He even let me take a picture to remind myself of this moment: