little kid announced this morning that he thinks he's going to be a dentist when he grows up. I thought this was a great idea, one of his best yet, until he said, "After you done wookin', I'm gonna pwactice wif my tools on your teefs." He's still mad I said no.
The other day it looked like he was going to get into dermatology when he became completely obsessed with a mole he spotted on my back. He began tracing it and prodding at it, eventually trying to claw deep into my skin to pinch it out. I asked him to knock it off and get back to the back scratching but from that point on he could think of nothing but the mole and its removal.
The scariest part was when he leaned over my shoulder to whisper in my ear, "Be still. I'm gonna get it wif my teef." That's when back-scratching time was definitely over.
We argued about it on and off for days afterward, him wanting to inspect it or asking when I was going to go to a doctor to get my "scab" removed.
It was bizarre. little kid VERY MUCH feels like he owns me and all of my person. He has no sense of separation between the two of us as individuals. As I work, he throws himself across my shoulders like he's a human shawl and watches television while breathing in my ear. If I eat, he wants half, if not all of whatever I'm having.
The other night Mr. Ashley brought the kids bags of M&Ms and a chocolate bar for me, as a treat. I saved my chocolate bar and little kid spotted it the next morning.
"Can I have some of 'at chocawit bar?"
"No, it's 7:30 in the morning."
After breakfast, "Where's mah chocawit bar now?"
"I said later! It's 8:30 in the morning and that is MY chocolate bar. I will share but I'm not giving you all or even half, daddy brought it for me and he got you a treat too."
"I'm gonna have some of dat chocawit bar."
Before lunch, "I can't wait to eat you chocawit bar."
"You're not eating my chocolate bar. Just a piece."
And after lunch, I wasn't ready to open my chocolate bar. So when he demanded, for the 60th time that day, the chocolate bar, I said, "You still have some M&Ms, how about you have those instead?"
"Okay." He scarfed them down. "Now where's you chocawit bar."
(I didn't end up sharing the chocolate bar, on principle alone. When I finally opened the chocolate bar, he heard the crinkle of the wrapper and stormed into the room, insisting that he heard candy and demanding to search the area and for me to show him my hands. I forced him out and hid the chocolate bar until he was in bed and then I ATE EVERY BITE BY MYSELF.)
Yesterday I peeled us both hard boiled eggs, put his in a bowl next to his cup of juice and took a bite from mine and set it on a paper towel on the kitchen counter. As I walked over to the garbage can, he left his place at the table to run over to the counter, grab my egg and start eating it.
"Why did you do that? Why didn't you eat your own egg?" I asked.
"I was so hungwy, mumum. Too hungwy. I couldn't stand it."
"...so you left your egg to run across the kitchen, reach up onto the counter, and eat the egg I was already eating."
"Yes," he answered solemnly, glad I understood.
As infuriating as this all is, he is my little buddy. We had a kick ass time at the beach yesterday. I read, he played, no arguments--it was awesome. He reminds me several times a day that we are best friends...I've just never had a friend who insisted I wear them like a pashmina or thought it was okay to steal food from my mouth as I ate it.