Friday, June 10, 2011



This child is CONSTANTLY begging to be rubbed on.  "Bub my back!" Bub my bebby!" "Feet too!" "Wegs too!" are the cries of this boy.  I mean, it's all of the time.  And if we are busy doing something and can't rub him, he takes it upon himself to rub himself against you.  If I'm standing in the kitchen making dinner, he'll weave figure eights between my legs.  I always say that he's part feline.  Matthew says that he must have a skin disorder that requires him constantly be rubbing against something, much like a dolphin that needs to shed it's skin by rubbing on things.   It's rather humorous, but can also become somewhat irritating.  As Eli was laying between us demanding his rubs the other night, Matthew looked at me and said, "You can make anything a drug."  So true.  "Bubbing" is certainly his addiction.

It's been so fun to listen to him talk lately.  I swear he picks up new words every day.  The other day, he wanted something, and when I told him no, he slapped his chubby little thighs with both hands, and said, "No fair!"   It was definitely one of those moments where it is inappropriate to laugh, but you'll burst if you don't. 


It's been amazing the past few weeks to watch this boy grow and change.  He's definitely on a mental growth spurt.  He thinks about everything, asks intelligent questions, and formulates plans that seem so far above his age.  A few days ago, he spent the entire day sitting with his Aunt Sar, telling her about all kinds of things.  He gave her all of the details of the house that he's going to build one day.   It'll be on a lake, and it's going to have an underwater fish feeder that the fish can press a button to get some food. It's also going to be built out of different colored wood, and it's going to be nicer that our current house :)

And for all of the mental development that he's displaying, he still struggles with his emotional maturity.  It's got to be frustrating to have the thoughts and ideas that he does, but to not have the maturity to match them.   We received his kindergarten readiness score, and academically he scored incredibly high- however he is still not ready to sit through a full day of school.  He's not able to focus on and complete his work in a timely manner.  He still makes decisions with decidedly questionable judgement.  The kinds of decisions where you say to yourself, "WHAT was he THINKING?!?!?!" 

But unfortunately, I have to admit that that his emotional volatility comes honestly.  The other night, as he was getting ready for bed, he came storming down the hallway, crying, and says, "Seriously! These jammies don't smell good!"   Matthew and I looked at each other and had to laugh, because some nights, I will pull two or three different {clean} shirts out of the drawer before I find one that "smells" right to sleep in.  No joke. This is actually a neurosis of mine.  And one that Owen has never even seen me do.  Apparently, the need for good-smelling shirts at bedtime is genetic. 

Yesterday, I had to take Owen to the Dr. because of the funk that he's had on his face for several months.  It's just dry patchy places, but they're red and drive him crazy scratching.   Thursdays are his Dr.'s day off, so we were scheduled to see one of the other docs,  Dr. C. looked at him and finally told me that she just wasn't sure what it was, but that his doc, Dr. S, had stopped in, so she'd go see if she wouldn't mind coming in to take a look.   Owen was thrilled to death to see Dr. S, and apparently had been making a mental list of things that he wanted to tell her.   As she's wrestling him around, and trying to figure out his mystery rash, he's jabbering at her non-stop about  how he likes to eat carrots, and how he eats salad now.   Dr. S turned away from him to try to tell Dr. C what to write on the chart, and Owen reached up, put his hand on her cheek and turned her face back to him, and in his most serious voice said, "I wasn't done telling you about the salad yet." 

After finishing the salad soliloquy, he went on to give her a detailed description of a caterpillar that he had recently captured, observed, and released.  The vocabulary and descriptors that he used were astounding.  Dr. S looked over at me and said, "His IQ has got to be through the roof."  We went on to talk about how his smarts probably play a big role in the behavior problems we have with him.   

I'm sure glad that she loves my kids and is willing to take that kind of time with them (and me) on her day off.  I'm so thankful that she appreciates my precocious (almost) five year old enough to listen to him drone on about salads and bugs, when all she probably really wanted to do was go home.  I'm also so appreciative of the fact that she encourages and praises my parenting, even when I'm scared out of my wits that I'm doing it all wrong.   As we were getting ready to leave, Dr. C started to give me a lecture about making sure that I always put bug spray on the kids, but Dr. S interrupted her, and said, "You don't have to tell her, she's a meticulous mama. He's just a kid that gets bit no matter what." 

Shoot, we have family members who haven't figured that out about Owen yet, and like to lecture me for our kids' bug bites. 

The funniest part of it all was that later that night, Owen looked at me and said, "That wasn't very nice what Dr. S said today." 
I couldn't figure out what he was talking about since I felt that she'd been very complimentary.
"What wasn't very nice?" I asked him.
"When she called you and 'Ridiculous mama'." 

We then went on to have a vocab lesson on the meaning of "meticulous". 

No comments:

Post a Comment