Yes, Art Linkletter, Kids STILL Say the Darndest Things - Part Two

Husband John AKA Pappa-razzi says every weekend when we have Tristan overnight, “Are you writing these down?” He means all the cute, amazing comments Tristan comes up with on an hourly basis.

When we drop him back at his house, I ask his Mommy, “Where in the world does this kid get these comments?”

She replied, “Welcome to my world. I ask myself every day, ‘where did he get that?’”

A sampling:

He awakened in our bed Easter morning and I asked, “Do you want to get up now and go wish Pappa a Happy Easter.” He answers, “No, let’s just lie here and enjoy this Easter moment.” I didn’t even know 5 year olds had “Easter moments.”

We had a conversation about tears because he saw me putting eye drops in and asked what they were. I explained and went on to joke about them being tears of joy because he was spending the night. I asked if he had ever cried tears of joy just because something was so wonderful, joyful or emotional. He didn’t have to blink an eye before responding, “Yes, in the movie Mee-Shee because the music was so beautiful!” He was speaking of Jim Henson’s movie, Mee-Shee: The Water Giant. I have no idea how long ago he saw that movie but it was recent. Music moves his soul and he can tell you about it.

One of my recent favorites was the story he told me about asking the cafeteria lady, “Do these muffins have mosquitoes in them, because I’m allergic to mosquitoes.” He said it took the lunch ladies a couple of minutes to know it was a joke!

Tristan knows his Uncle Mark—never mind that Uncle Mark died three years before Tristan was born. For example, we were at Applebee’s one evening when Tristan ordered French Fries and an order of bacon. I ordered potato skins which, of course, had bacon on them. I said, “Tristan, look we’re having the same thing, potatoes and bacon. What else do we both like?”

Without missing a beat, he replies, “We both love Uncle Mark.” Yes, he melts my heart on a daily basis.

Another Uncle Mark episode began with a discussion about ghosts, Tristan current and seemingly only fear.

“Mimi, do you believe in ghosts?”

“It depends on what you mean by ghosts. If you mean the state of the human body when someone has died and gone on to heaven, then, yes, I believe in ghosts. And I’ll tell you a secret I have told very very few people. Shortly after Uncle Mark’s death, he was sitting in that very rocker and said to me, ‘Mom, I’m okay. Don’t worry.’”

Tristan took this in and shortly afterwards went to the bathroom. He came back all excited and said, “Mimi, Uncle Mark was in the bathroom and told me he was okay in heaven.”

What do you say in response to that?

And then he shows up the next weekend saying in a New Jersey accent, “What am I? Chopped li-vah?”

Yes, Art, kids still say the darndest things.

The NASCAR Manager

Tristan ponders his vocational choices

Creative play forms the basis for all vocational dreams. Which really makes me ponder whether grandson Tristan will be the next Dario Franchitti on the NASCAR circuit, by the Executive Director of the Smithsonian or conduct our local philharmonic. His current preferences for spending his play time gives no hint of which way he will turn.

As NASCAR driver he requires the services of the “manager” none other than yours truly, his Mimi. He prefers Mimi as “manager,” who really does the job of announcing, because I capture his imagination about how race day excitement and events might unfold., “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to NASCAR. You are in for the most exciting day in racing and you will not be disappointed!” His preference for Mimi has nothing to do with my knowledge of NASCAR, cars in general or aerodynamic properties. It’s all about drama and the glib tongue.

Based on the engaging Cars movie and Cars 2, Tristan’s cast metal and plastic cars all possess personalities and moral characteristics. We line them up, sort them into categories and make a place for the pit crew and for President Barack Obama’s limousine and entourage. Tristan always gets to be Lightning McQueen and win every race. Losing is not one of Tristan’s self-identities at this point in his life. So we set up the race in Mimi and Pappa’s living room, family room, kitchen, breakfast room and hall way. It’s takes a lot of real estate to create NASCAR.

At some point in our early days, I must have referred to the attendees as “folks.” It stuck. The watchers of the race henceforth are called “folks.” He divides the cars into various countries usually according to style of cars---these designations zoom over Mimi’s head---but I can always expect Japanese, Chinese, British and Italian cars.

So the “manager” has to develop, at minimum, a British, Italian and Oriental accent because I voice most all characters. The bad guy/car, Francesco got in trouble yesterday. He broke one of the rules of NASCAR and the “manager” called for an investigation, penalty and fine. I must have been on a roll as Francesco’s angry mother who attended the race. I ranted and raved in my best Italian accent. So well, in fact, that Tristan broke character and inquired, “Mi---------mi, are you mad at me or are you still being Francesco’s mommy?” Guess I played my part well.

My little NASCAR fan also confuses whether the driver breaking the rules has to be accountable to the track rules or his mommy. Guess we know where is locus of authority still rests.

Hey Art Linkletter, kids STILL say the darnedest things

Friends keep reminding me to right down grandson, Tristan’s latest comment. It is a joy to see and hear life being lived through the eyes and ears of a clever, outspoken five year old, although he will tell you, "I'm six on the inside." And when he turns six in August? "I'll let you know, Mimi, when I'm seven on the inside." I’m also reminded lately that Tristan is not the only child that provides great laughter for the adults in their lives.

As readers of this blog and my Facebook page know, my husband John has a photography exhibit opening tomorrow. Tristan came over this week when just before all the photos were to be delivered to the Woodford County Library. I gave him one of the publicity cards and invited him to see a few of the photos that were in tubs in the living room. I encouraged him to take the card home to Mommy and Daddy to remind them to bring him to the exhibit. He looked with interest at the photos we unwrapped and went on with him playing. In a few minutes, he looked up at me and stated, “Mimi, I’m not the kind of boy who goes somewhere just to look at pictures.”

All righty then.

One of my friends has two little girls, nine and six. My friend, intent on looking great for her twentieth high school reunion, engaged a personal trainer. The girls walked in as she and the trainer were lying on the floor facing each other doing leg lifts. After they left the gym, the girls inquired, “Mom, what were you doing with that guy?”

Being a thoughtful mother, my friend gently responded, “What did you think I was doing.”

They giggled and replied together, “Farting and falling in love.”

Ahhhh, the child’s perspective.

One of my favorite of the “darnedest” comes from a friend telling this story on her son when he was three years old. On a Christmas visit to family, they decided to dress their two little boys up and take them to the very adult, very upscale cocktail party next door. Dressed in their navy blazers and grey slacks, they knew instantly this was a big deal to be allowed at the adult gathering. The three year old wandered around a bit and then moved close to a female guest. He stretched his arm casually across a piece of furniture, put his foot up on another piece to create his best debonair look and announced to the woman, “I have a penis.”

Very adult, indeed!

Our Tristan adopts the attitude that he can win at anything and everything and perhaps it is even his Divine Right to win every game. He and I were racing cars while he soaked in the tub at about age four. I allowed him to win the first two races and then made sure I won the third. I whooped and hollered in victory. He gently touched my arm and pleaded, “Mimi, let’s play nice and be friends.”

Guess he put me in my place.

Poppa and I recently had a discussion with him about his baby sister’s nickname. We all suggested possibilities and rejected them for this or that reason. Tristan then adamantly settled on, “Pony.” No amount of reasoning has dissuaded him that Pony is not a good nickname for his adorable toddling sis.

My favorite Tristan saying though came when he was three. Poppa and I had just arrived from North Carolina for a visit. He rushed up to me and announced, “Mimi, when I was a little boy I fell in love with you!”

I’m putty in his hands.

   

Grandparenting 101

Tristan and Mimi enjoying bedtime stories
Photo by John Lynner Peterson AKA Poppa

Being an overachiever from birth, I want to ace this grandparenting gig also. Since we moved back to Kentucky in late February, we have had only one sleepover with both precious angels present. Tristan is five and Payden is twelve months.

Now let me just clarify. I started decorating our guest room for these little creatures before we left North Carolina. It had to be neutral to accommodate both boy and girl. Cute but not so cutesy we couldn’t use it for an adult guest room when necessary. Lots of toys, books, pictures. It’s just what I wanted it to be. Only one problem---the little angels are too scared to sleep in there!

So we agree to try the both-angels-sleepover again.

We have a king-size Tempur-pedic bed but I also have a king size husband. John is 6’5” and as Tristan likes to tell everyone, “My Poppa used to be a Viking.” (Please do not tell him that just means he’s Norwegian and Minnesotan and has very big shoulders.) So the strategy is that I will get Tristan to sleep in our bed then put him on a pallet on the floor at the foot of our bed and let the little princess sleep with us all night. My daughter-in-law assures me this plan will work because Tristan can be moved without waking up and will not realize he’s been moved until morning.

Our plan works like a well-oiled Swiss machine for the first half of the night. I have already been having a restless sleep because I’m concerned the Viking will roll over on the Princess. I finally experience true rest with my back toward both them leaving the Princess in God’s hands. Then I awaken to gentle pushing against my back. “Payden sure is pushing hard against me for such a little thing.” I roll over intending to center her in the bed so I can get back to sleep. As I look at the little blonde head beside me, I have to blink my sleepy eyes several times before accepting it is Tristan beside me. He awakened during the night, thought he had fallen out of bed and crawled back in. We are now four-in-a-bed.

There is no Plan B so we all cuddle up and get whatever sleep will come. Since deep sleep came late, Tristan, Payden and I all sleep too late to get the four of us fed and dressed for church. At this point, I’m feeling grandparent failure creeping up on me like Ghostbuster slime. I wanted the two beautifully dressed and coiffed grandchildren in church with me today. Oh well, maybe next time.

Poppa fixes his world-famous waffles and we all gobbled them down with fruit and milk. He rushes off to church without us. The yummy-ness of having both angels with me surpasses any waffle, famous or not. Tristan is entertaining himself in the family room and Payden is getting a big dose of Mimi-love. I decide that I could at least put the refrigerated items away from the breakfast table. So with Payden on my hip, I pick up the little brown jug of maple syrup to move it to the fridge. Just as I turn away from the table, I loose my grip on the syrup and it not only spills, it bounces so that syrup spatters up the walls of the breakfast room!

A “tweet” went out at that instant to the entire world of black ants, “Syrup feast at the Peterson household. One hundred percent maple syrup. No preservatives, no corn syrup. Come one, come all.”

And they did. Instantly!

I admit that I am impressed with myself that I got Tristan to play with Payden long enough for me to mop the kitchen and breakfast room with the hottest, soapiest water I could make. I am not so impressed that even that process did not get all the stickiness up so Payden crawled around with the ants until I got her in the tub.

Surely, Grandparenting 102 will be easier.