The Peanut Gallery

We're working (always) with Wyatt on his manners. He chose not to eat his oatmeal this morning, so I told him that was it until lunch. Well, then Jeff came down and had a nice looking bowl of Cheerios so Wyatt asked if he could have some. I jumped in and told him that since he'd chosen not to eat his oatmeal (that he asked for, mind you) then he couldn't have o's.

So he ignored me, looked directly at his dad and said, "Daddy, you want to give me some of those o's please?" As if Jeff hadn't just witnessed the whole interchange. And while it's wrong to be amused that I was overrun, the delivery was hilarious enough that Wyatt got some o's.

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A couple weeks ago, when I was really feeling the effects of the Rock family cold, I coughed. Wyatt promptly said, "bless you." I thanked him but explained that we really only say "bless you" when someone sneezes. So he paused for a moment and then said, "well then cough you, Mommy."

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I realized the other day that I'd failed to mention to Wyatt where he was going to go if I went into labor. So I told him that if the baby comes before Grandma gets here*, then he'll get to go to Isaac's house and maybe even spend the night. He seemed to think that would be a pretty great thing. So then yesterday morning, as I'm unloading the dishwasher, he looked at me and said, "Mommy, where's our baby?" I stood up and told him it was still in my tummy. He looked confused, so I asked if he was worried about our baby. He said, "No. I not worried. I just want to go to Isaac's house."

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I'm hoping it's not a conscious staking-his-claim thing, but Wyatt has taken to calling us "my mommy" or "my daddy". It goes like this:

"Hey my mommy, what you doin'?"
"Where are you my mommy?"
"Hi my daddy! I missed you!"

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We're having a very artistic morning around here. Wyatt awoke at 6:30 and asked for play-doh as soon as we got downstairs. We managed to have our meager breakfast first but in the last hour he has used his play-doh, moved on to watercolors and is now playing with markers. Unfortunately very little art has been produced. The play-doh was all about cutting shapes; the watercoloring involved copious liquid, seven brushes all at once and very little pigment; the markers were used for coloring for approximately five minutes but now it's all about the lids. He's got it in his head he'll be building a tower of lids while the poor markers sit idly by and dry out. And upon realizing the lids won't stack, he's setting them up like bowling pins and asking for a ball. But he's very entertained so I'll just take what I can get.

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*Grandma wasn't supposed to get here for another week, but after a minor (some might argue verging on major) emotional meltdown that I'll attribute to pregnancy, exhaustion and a rough morning with a two-year old, she's arriving tonight. We haven't told Wyatt that this will negate the potential sleepover with his best buddy, but he's very excited for Grandma to play. This just proves that once you're a mom, you're never off-duty.