Friday, Aug. 10, 2012: Check it and see

I've got Gavin singing Foreigner around the house now. I just changed his diaper (poo, unfortunately. I asked him when he was going to do that on the potty and he said, "In five years." I told him that he will be 8 years old in five years and I would be really concerned about his development if he was still pooping his pants) and afterwards I said it was time to wash our hands (he has to help with diaper changing, so he has to wash his hands, too) and he stood up and said, "Let's do it!" And then, "Hot blooded, check it and see" while making a rock-and-roll snarl and giving a thumbs up. My work as a parent is obviously done. There really isn't a greater achievement I can think of.

Gavin's favorite song is probably still Sammy Hagar's "I Can't Drive 55" which he sings a lot. A lot a lot a lot as Gavin would say (when Gavin wants to add emphasis to something he repeats the word or phrase while increasing the octave of his speech, so if something is of particular importance by the time he's done it's five minutes later and only Henri can hear him speaking). He often sings it to himself when he isn't thinking about anyone else listening, which I love. I sing all the time. To the dog, to the cat, to Gavin, to myself. A lot of times I don't even notice I'm doing it (unless Stacy gets annoyed and tells me to stop it). So Gavin clearly takes after me.

On Tuesday Gavin and Stacy were preparing to clean off the table on the deck so we could eat outside, and he said to her, "I'm the sprayer man and you're the woman who's the cleaner." See, he likes to be in charge of whatever cleaning solution being used (in this case it was Method brand antibacterial kitchen cleaner, orange scent. We use a lot of that around here). And boss people around. And then today as I made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich he said to me, "I'm the getter and you're the maker." If I didn't know any better, I'd think we were doing our best to instill gender-normative assumptions in our boy. You'd never guess he was being raised by feminists. I fear he may be listening to Rush Limbaugh at night or something.

Also at lunch today, Gavin announced in the middle of eating, "I need to use the potty. But I need a little bit of privacy." And then, while running toward the bathroom he turned back to me, holding his crotch and said, "I'm going to see if I can catch the potty in time." My first instinct was to say, "Dude, go! Don't stand here talking about it." But I did not. I can't remember what I said, but it was probably along the lines of, "I hope you do." Thankfully he did.

Prior to lunch, we hung around in the back yard. I pulled some weeds and he helped me a little, but soon gave up and went to play in his sandbox. When I asked him if he wanted to pull any more weeds (because he was very enthusiastic about this idea just a few minutes earlier) he said, "I think so playing is more funner than working." He's pretty deep. 

My new favorite thing is the following dialog exchange:

Gavin: "Guess what?"
Me: "What?"
Gavin: "I love you."

See, that's something that I've been saying to him forever. I say, "Guess what?" and the answer is always "I love you." And now he says that to me. Sometimes he says, "Mama D, do you want to tell you to guess something?"

Oh, and if you ever wanted to know how to get to the airport from our house, Gavin will tell you. When we were going to pick Stacy up from the airport he told me, "It's way way far away on the other side of Hamtramck. On the freeway I-79." As Laura said, "Just give him the keys - he's got this covered."