As each day passes onto another night, I see my son becoming less of a toddler and more of a little man; a little man with hopes and dreams and a personality that he can call his own. Lars was a late talker, I had began to get worried as all of his age-mates in daycare were speaking circles around the boy while the caregivers were still having to use me as an interpreter. But once again my mother’s words prevailed and Lars came into his own. Now this candid four year old has started throwing sentences at us in which we’re not sure how to respond to.
Ahhh movie night, a time where we can take a load off as a family and revel in togetherness. The children are calm, happy and snuggled up closely with us on the couch. At this exact moment I can’t think of anything else I would rather be doing. This is pure joyfulness, I think, as Sophie grabs my hand just to simply hold it.
Lars slowly leans over to my husband, which I see out of the corner of my eye. He whispers something into his father’s open ear, I can’t make it out but I’m sure I hear the word ‘Poop’ in it. I brace myself, and expect that moments from now I will be cleaning up an accident. Instead Jamie gives out a little laugh and says between chuckles to our son, ‘that is an inappropriate thing to say Lars.’ Lars gives way to a giggle as well then continues with the movie. I offer Jamie a curious glance, he shakes it off…Must be a boy thing, I assume.
Not even 5 minutes later my son approaches me, clambers up onto my lap while digging his boney little knee into my thigh and says in a mocking sort of tone, “Mama you want me to poop on your face.”
WHAT! Where the hell did he learn that one from! Oh my gosh, what if he’s said this line at school? Or in any sort of public place for that matter!
I don’t laugh, I don’t even grin. I cannot pave the way to more language like this so I say to my four year old boy in a sterner than stern voice, “Lars that is not okay to say things like that, it is really gross!”
He laughs. I ignore him and shoot Jamie a look filled with daggers, we will talk about this one later.
I am now dreading ‘pick up time’ at Lars’ school, as every time I speak with his teachers I am paranoid that they will tell me my son asked if he could poop on their face. Luckily he hasn’t busted that little gem out, and if so they haven’t told me yet.
The home front is a different matter, every phrase out of the boys mouth is disgusting, ‘I pee in your eyeball?’…’Why don’t I fart on your tongue?’…. ‘You want me to spit on your head?’
Of course I don’t want you to spit on my head! Is what I want to say to him, but I realise that is not the way to approach his off coloured jokes. I try ignoring, he just talks louder. I explain why he cannot say these things because they are not appropriate. He just laughs and laughs despite my lack of acknowledgement towards him. It’s not only what he is saying that bothers me, it’s how he says it. The kid will make his way over to you, slowly, sure footed and ready to pounce. He places his chops only an inch away from your earlobe and pauses for a few seconds (I’m guessing to build suspense) then with a voice that is sweet and simple…BAM “You want to smell my bum?”
Today we are having a snow day at my parents farm tobogganing, building snowmen, just having an overall great time. Once the activities have slowly tapered off , we sit down to relax in the living room as granny makes us all hot chocolate. Lars strolls over to his grandfather, his stealthy progress is obvious to me and I brace myself for what may pass through his lips, “Hey Papa, you want me to pee in your nose?”
The entirety of the room begins to laugh, aside from me the mortified mother of this child.
“Lars! You can’t say that to people!” I have to yell to get heard over the laughing and I know this reprimand of mine will be lost because of all the positive reactions the kid is getting from every other body in the room. This is when my sister-in-law Ashley who my children adore, comes at me with such a straightforward, prophetic statement;
“Linds, he’s a boy. He’s going to say gross things and think it’s funny, it’s just what little boys do.”
I don’t reply. I don’t reply because I cannot bring myself to accept these tactless declarations coming out of my sons mouth. My small boy that once was so sweet and innocent is now saying things that make me cringe as soon as I hear them being spewed from his mouth. And it is only going to get worse, I know this.
I guess it is time to recognize the fact that he is growing up. Gone are the days of playing ‘Peek-A-Boo’ and ‘Patty-Cake’. Now I get to look forward to hearing anecdotes of excrement being placed in awkward bodily orifices’. Although I still will never promote his little ‘slips of tongue’, I may be able to find a bit more humor in it. Because hey, who hasn’t found the funny side of a little ‘poop story’ before.