In case you haven't noticed, I've posted about Jamesie Cat three times in a row now. That's because last week, we hung out for three days. We went for walks, we cleaned house, snacked on Goldfish, we played ball, we played catch, we potty trained (well, James did, not me), and we played some more. During that time, I learned another valuable lesson about children - the first one being, if you don't want a kid to do something, tell him to do it, like that pine cone he ate.
That lesson is that children do and say what their guardians do and say. So instead of screaming obscenities that contained the words damn and god in the same sentence, and four letter words that begin with S and end with T, which is the same stuff that James leaves in his little training bowl, I bit my tongue when I splashed bleach on my black Twilight t-shirt. And when I felt like curling up on the couch to watch TV while the sun lit and heated up the earth, I led the little monkey down the stairs to the backyard instead, and laid in the cool, dry grass.
Oh, if it counts as another lesson learned, then I'll mention that 3 year olds don't see the hippo, the tiger, or the octopus floating in the blue ocean of the sky.
But get this, James, who is deathly afraid of the ground - I mean, so afraid that he would tuck his fingers into a fist, rather than use the palm of his hand, to break a fall - laid down right next to me! As if to prove to me that if I can lie on the ground, he sure can as well.
What's more, he took it further. He invited me to lay on the flagstones with him.
But alas, it was my turn to do what three year olds do, so I did the opposite: I stayed standing.
Jamesie see, Jamesie do.
