Victor starts kindergarten tomorrow. My prayers go out to his homeroom teacher and the whole, big, wonderful team supporting our miracle as he begins his educational journey. I hope you all have lots of patience, eat a good breakfast, and have a sense of humor. He's all yours...
********************
One evening, Victor asked me what "genetic" means. Surprised by his word choice, I asked him where he had heard that word. He told me that Hope used it. Surprised again (and HopeAnne was just as surprised to be accused in this instance), I asked if he remembered what other words she had used with "genetic". He told me that she lets him play with her genetic sand.
"Oh," we all laughed, "You mean kinetic sand!"
Yes, he agreed, that was it.
But then, since we had made so much of his use of "genetic", he still wanted to know the meaning of this word. So, we talked about genes and traits and all of that good stuff.
The next evening, at the dinner table, we were discussing new vocabulary Victor had learned that day. Next, HopeAnne recalled the "genetic" conversation from the evening prior. At this point Victor jumped in to say, "I remember what 'genetic' means, it's what comes out of your pants."
(Genes? Jeans? Pants? Get it?
Never mind. Victor does.
And that's all that matters.)
********************
Mom, I farted a B flat and an F.
********************
Me: You're a trip.
Victor: Then you're a trickle.
Me: You're a hoot.
Victor (after some thought): You're a hot water heater.
********************
The dinner table conversation one night focused on role playing what Victor should do if someone says mean words to him. Actually, we started out suggesting that he shouldn't say mean words to others but then he wanted to know what would happen if it was the other way around. We told him that first he should try talking with the person who spoke unkindly and if that didn't work, then he should tell Mom.
After a bit of role playing with big siblings pretending to call each other mean things like chicken nuggets, Victor asked me what I would do if someone called me a mean word, since Mom appears to be the end of the road in these situations. Who would I tell? So I asked, "Well, you call me mean words all the time. What do I do?"
He didn't have to think before confidently declaring, "You tell me to stop and then you pray."
********************
Victor: Mom, do police sleep?
Me: Yes, but if they work during the night, they might have to sleep during the day.
Victor: Oh, so police are nocturnal. Or some of them are, right?
********************
While walking across the parking lot and not wanting to hold hands with his friend, Miss. Jackie...
Jackie: If you don't hold my hand, we're not going to the playground. Do you understand?
Victor: Yes, I have some underpants.
Jackie: I didn't say "underpants", I said, "Do you understand?"
Victor: NO! I don't want new underpants!
Jackie: Never mind.
Victor: What, Miss. Jackie? I can't understand.
********************
Victor: Mom does NOT like it when I keep banging on the steps. It really drives her crazy.
Miss. Jackie: Then why don't you stop banging on the steps?
Victor: Maybe she will get used to it.
*********************
Victor: Miss. Jackie, I really love you so, so, so much!
Jackie: I love you, too, Victor.
Victor: Want to get buried with me?
********************
Mom, do you have burping skills?
********************
Mom, you make the best smelling pancakes.
********************
When I get money I'm going to go to the Dollar Store and buy you a fresh cup of paint.
********************
Victor: Hey, Miss. Jackie, I'm 5.
Jackie: I know. That's great. Now you can go to kindergarten.
Victor (with a big smile): Yep, pretty soon.
Jackie: What do you think you will do at kindergarten?
Victor: Maybe get a snack.
Jackie: And you will learn lots of things.
Victor: Yes, I will!
Jackie: And you will have lots of fun.
Victor: Yes, I will!
Jackie: And you will make lots of new friends.
Victor: Yes, I will!
Jackie: And you need to be nice to your friends and use kind words.
Victor: Well, we'll see what happens.
No comments:
Post a Comment