One of the more interesting aspects of our lives these days is the funny things that Blake comes up with to say. I love hearing not only what's happening in his imagination ("Mommy, run, that crocodile's about to eat you!"), but also how he tries to understand simple things that we as adults take for granted, and the subsequent grammatical attempts to ask the question: "Mommy, what's that?" "It's a garlic press." "What means, garlic press?" "Well, it's for pressing garlic." "Oh." Or tonight's, "What means, full of beans?"
On Saturday night I had a rare night out for Nina's Hen Do, and there were instructions beforehand that we were to all wear "special frocks." This was perhaps a good email to send, because it meant I had to start thinking about what to wear sometime before when I was actually getting ready to go, or else I might have ended up in some trendy club in carrot- and porridge-encrusted jeans with worn knees from too much time spent crawling around after Noah or playing dinosaurs with Blake. I managed to find something at a local shop which I thought fit the bill, and was pleased to hear when I came downstairs; "Mom, you look pretty!" It did make me smile. I was very good and restrained on the Do, though, and only had about 4 drinks over the course of 5 hours (one being a tequila shot about half an hour before I made an early exit, knowing that I wasn't even going to get an unbroken night's sleep!). Although the place we went was very busy, very trendy and very very loud (I felt SO old), it was fun to get out and not be a mother for the evening.
This morning as I was in the kitchen making toast, Blake came in and reported that "it's very tiring being a boy." Try being a middle-aged woman, son! After I picked him up at nursery later in the day, we were standing in the hallway zipping up his coat (it's absolutely frigid here at the moment). There were two Dads there as well bundling up their little ones, and Blake chose that moment to remind me that "you looked pretty in that dress". I am sure I blushed, as I most definitely did have some food encrusted on my jeans and my top was covered with massage oil from a Baby Massage class I'd done with Noah that afternoon (he is probably a little too mobile for this, so I spent much of the class trying to keep him from crawling off, and the oil just got all over me). I think it would have been quite hard to imagine me either in a dress or looking pretty. One of the Dads said to his son, "When you learn to talk, you'll have to remember that to say to your Mummy." This evening I heard that it was "very tiring being a super-hero". If only his super-hero trick could be to toilet-train himself, then we'd be in business!
Blake doesn't just voice his own ideas, of course; he has also apparently recently been employed as Noah's official spokesman ("Noah says he's not hungry." "Noah says he wants to go in the buggy.") Yet again I'm amazed that Blake can hear these things but not things which are much more obvious such as "Don't step on your brother!"
As for poor Noah, he for some reason is still referred to by Blake, about 50% of the time, as his "brothersister". I'm sure Blake knows he should just stop at "brother", but I think the "sister" just comes rolling off his tongue too quickly for him to catch it. I'm going to try to be better about writing some of these funny phrases here, but for now, I'd better run - a crocodile's after me!