Somehow I'm the only one who knows where Tyler's "low car with the thing on top" is, even though I certainly wasn't the last one who had it. And not only do I know where it is, I actually know which one of the hundreds of cars he's specifically referring to. (I heard him ask Danielle where something was the other day. Maybe it's just a female power?) I can take 10 different doll outfits and know exactly which doll each one was meant for. I know where the "baby kitty" is (right next to the baby puppy), and I know where the red fish whistle is (although I'll never tell).
My all-hearing power came the second I delivered Tyler. In addition to being able to distinguish my baby's cry from others, I was oddly the only one who could hear Tyler cry during the night. Didn't matter how loud I turned up the volume on the monitor and pointed it at Ron's head, I was still the only one able to hear him. Same thing with puking kids. My all-hearing powers enable me to register that initial gagging cough from the depths of a restful slumber (and over Ron's snoring). To Tyler's amazement...and dismay...I can hear him when he quietly mutters something threatening to Danielle. Or says something he knows he shouldn't have. I can also hear the clock change from 6:59 pm to 7:00 pm: the start of bedtimes!
My favorite power is the all-seeing power. As I mentioned in a previous blog, Tyler has been getting sneakier about things. Like brushing his teeth. A couple times he's acted like he's putting toothpaste on, but he wasn't. Of course I didn't see him fake it the first time, I just guessed based on his behavior (tapped in to the all-knowing power), but he doesn't know that. He was baffled and a little awed that I actually knew he had faked it. We have a rule that whenever we leave the house, everyone has to go potty, whether you think you need to or not. Lately Tyler has started shutting the bathroom door, putting the lid up forcefully so we can hear it clink, waiting a minute, and then flushing. He comes out declaring he's gone and is ready to go. Ron, a mere man, was fooled by this. But not Super Mom. Too quick. Too giggly. Too easy. The first time it happened, I questioned him. "I went Mom! See, no smirk." Right. I pulled up his shirt to see if his pants were snapped. (He can't resnap his pants, so often he'll leave them unsnapped after he's gone. Leaves more room for dinner that way, too.) They were snapped. I called his bluff and made him go - with the door open this time. "How did you know I didn't go? The door was shut!"
I had fun with this power again today. Overall we had a very good day behavior-wise, but there was one occasion where Tyler started to lose his temper. In order to avoid a full-blown eruption (from me or him?) I sent him to his room for a time-out. Still angry, he obeyed and headed up the stairs. He paused for a minute and I knew, I just knew, he was sticking his tongue out at me. I didn't turn around and look. I didn't comment. But I knew. A few minutes later I hollered up at him and told him he could come back down if he had calmed down...and if he apologized to me for sticking his tongue out.
Pause. "I didn't stick my tongue out."
"Yes you did."
Pause. I'm sure he was wondering what angle to take. "You didn't SEE me stick my tongue out."
"But I know you did."
Pause. Quiet mumbling. (Too quiet for my all-hearing power to decipher.)
"What was that?"
"I said I'm sorry for sticking my tongue out at you." And he actually sounded like he meant it.
It's good to be Super Mom.
2 comments:
That's a great blog Lori! You are a very engaging writer! Some of those powers are bestowed on female teachers too, I hope the rest come in before Caleb gets too mischievous.
Never, never, let your children know how you know things. Keeping them wary of those powers makes them think twice before acting.
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