Imaginary Undies (and other Gideonisms)

As of March 5th, Gideon is two and a half years old! He continues to amaze us every day with revelations as to how his little mind is working, and though I know all kids go through similar milestones, since he is our first and it is all new to us, you'll have to indulge me in another "status report."
He has officially entered the world of imaginary play. It started weeks ago when he started talking about the "lions" that showed up at random places - in his room, on the couch, on the stairs, etc. So far, Jason has only had to beat up the lions once, I think. (I have no room to judge in this area. I myself had imaginary pet mice that followed me around all the way through kindergarten. Yes, I'm sure they came from Cinderella, and yes, I'm sure they served to indulge my princess fantasies.)

Since then, I've caught him pretending quite a bit. He was randomly squeezing the air yesterday and I asked him what he was doing. "Just taking my blood pressure," he said. (I then noticed he had wrapped a piece of paper around his forearm - the blood pressure cuff, no doubt.)

I picked him up from church last Sunday and his teacher said he was playing with a baby doll during class and put the doll under his shirt. She asked if he was feeding the baby, and he said yes. (Oh, wasn't Daddy proud...) ;-)

And a couple of times, I've asked him to go to his room and get some clean undies after bath time or after waking up in the morning. He'll go to his room, open the drawer, and come back with nothing. "Where are your undies, Gideon?"

"Right here," he'll say, showing me his closed fist that clearly has nothing in it.

"I don't think those are the ones we need."

"But they are!" and he'll go through the motions of putting them on and everything. I'm all for imaginary play, but when the results are a bare little tushie running around the house in all its glory, sometimes reality just has to trump imagination!

Finally, the latest development in imaginary play - he now has his first official imaginary friend, or more accurately, an imaginary sister! It started about a week ago when he said his sister was in his tummy. Since then, I guess he must have given birth somewhere along the way because now his "sister" has graduated to an imaginary car seat. We went out today, but before we could go, he had to get his sister and put her in the car. Then, when I tried to put Canaan's car seat in, Gideon was quick to insist, "No Mom! Don't put Canaan there! That's where Sister is!" I've asked several times if Sister has a name, but apparently Sister is her name. Silly me...


In other news, he has taken it upon himself to re-name our dog, Ranger. Now, depending on his mood, he will often refer to him as "Fluffy." (Thank you to the "Handy Manny" TV show. One of the characters, Mr. Lopart, has a cat named Fluffy. We've obviously watched several episodes lately.) Now, it's, "Come here, Fluffy! Come over here!" And then he wonders why Ranger won't come...


Two of his other favorite conversations include, "What happens..." and, "That's funny to say..." Here is the context:

Me: Gideon, pick up your toys.
G: What happens if I don't?
Me: Then you'll get a spanking.
G: What happens if I do?
Me: Then you won't get a spanking. [and this could easily go on for thirty minutes!]

Or, it could go something like this:

Me: Gideon, it's time for lunch.
G: What happens after that?
Me: Then we'll clean the kitchen.
G: What happens after we clean the kitchen?
Me: Then we'll play for a little while before nap time.
G: What happens after nap time?
Me: Then we'll play again. Now come on and let's eat lunch.
G: What happens if I don't? [and on we go again...]

Then, there's the other thing we hear all the time:

Me: Gideon, eat your corn dog.
G: That's funny to say - corn dog.

You never know when he'll hear a word will be "funny to say." We've had everything from, "That's funny to say - self explanatory!" to, "That's funny to say - poop!"


And finally, it looks as if I'm out of the running for Mother of the Year, yet again. The other night, Canaan was screaming that inconsolable scream that infants sometimes have, and I was doing everything I could think of to calm him down. It wasn't working. So, I went to get our little backpack type carrier to put him in so I could just strap him in and maybe he'd calm down from the closeness. I got it out of his room, (Gideon followed me in there), and then took it to the studio to put Canaan in it. (Gideon did not follow me this time.) So, as soon as I got Canaan strapped in, I went back to get Gideon. About three minutes had elapsed. That's all. I walked into Canaan's room to find Gideon on the floor with a bottle of baby oil in one hand and the cap in the other.

And the bottle was no longer full.

And Gideon was smacking his lips...

Yes, my child drank baby oil. At first, I thought he'd drunk about a fourth of a cup or so, but discovered later that a significant portion must have been poured onto the cushion of the rocking chair which was now covered with a huge stain. (Does anyone know how to get a baby oil stain out??)

Anyway, we called poison control right away and were assured that he would be fine. "The worst that could happen is that the baby oil could act as a mild laxative," they said.

They were right.

And that, my friends, is what life is like these days with our two-and-a-half-year-old. Stay tuned for my update on our two-month-old next.