Friday, November 13, 2009

Donovan teaches

I kind of love that Donovan is at that stage where there seems to be no space between what he's thinking and what he's saying. I also won't pretend like I hang on every word. Often I'm thinking about 17 other things and when he suddenly says, "Well? Mom?" I kind of shake out of my (still able to drive safely) trance to say, "Uhhhh...yeah, I think so," and I know I've blundered when he says, incredulously, "REEEEEEEEALLY?!" Wait, what was the question?

Yesterday I was listening more than I was not and I learned some interesting things. Donovan has a small figurine of a dachshund. It's a Littlest Pet Shop dog and he loves it. Also, it's name is Sanchez. (Sanchez's best friends are a duck, aptly named "Underwater Swim Ducky," but also goes by "Ducky" or "Ducket" for short; some type of black and white dog named "Scare Burt"; and a fish who goes by "Burt") Anyway, Donovan was telling me about how Sanchez formed a club (clubs are all the rage when you're in the 3-8 set. Maybe longer. I just know that right now they are for the very distinguished) with other nice wiener dogs...well, this is what he said, "Sanchez made a cwub wiff dee udder nice weener dogs and at night dey protect (roll that r) duh neighbuh-hood from (roll that r) all duh killer (no rolling) weener (don't roll) dogs." Huh. There's a lot there that's new to me. The most interesting is that there is a band of killer wiener dogs out there. Thank you, Sanchez, for protecting (roll my r) us.

Also, Donovan wanted to know how much a FEE-ARE-EE costs. Fee-are-ee, fee-are-ee...a Ferrari? Yes, that's right. I told him it costs a LOT of money. "Like a sow-zand hund-wid?" A lot more than that. He fell back against his seat and kind of chortled in wonder. It was quiet for a moment and he suddenly asked, "Do policemans make a lot of money?" Not enough for a Ferrari, dude. Quiet again. Then I got a brilliant idea and I told him that a spy makes a lot of money. He's considering his options.

At Target, I had stopped the shopping cart while trying to figure out if it was possible to buy bandaids without cartoons on them when a guy walked by and said, "Careful there, buddy, you don't want to touch that." I looked down and Donovan had his fingers near the wheels. The man didn't sound mean or anything, just suggested Dono not do what he was doing. Quick as he could, Dono popped up with a look on his face like he just got caught and he quietly said, with eyebrows raised and head tilted to the side ever so slightly, "But mommy..." I shrugged and nodded like I agreed with the man as Donovan whispered (eyebrows still up, face still looking a little stricken), "I love yoooooooooou."

The best way to show Donovan you love him is to buy him a pack of strawberry Trident. Unfortunately, he left the pack within Gemma's reach and I discovered this morning that she had unwrapped and eaten a piece. Well, was chewing a piece. Being the awesome mom I am, I half-heartedly tried fishing it out of her mouth but she wasn't about to give it up. It was delicious and it was hers. Marbles, doll shoes, shells, and all manner of undelicious things will come right back out if you ask her, 'What's in your mouth?' But she wasn't about to give this one up. So I let her have it. And get this - she chewed it for half an hour, happy as a lark, just walking around the house. She only produced it when I offered her a cup of milk. My 18-month-old is chewing gum. Sweet.

Donovan, in his charming way, didn't get mad when he heard she had eaten a piece of his gum. Instead, he dropped to his knees, clapped, and then rubbed her back, gleefully saying, "You're such a big girl! I'm so pwoud of you!"

He teaches me new things every day, from neighborhood terrorists to reacting to a situation. And that is why, several times throughout the day, I find myself whispering to him, "I love yoooooooooou."