Games Boys Play, II

This morning at breakfast Mason reminded me that like his brother he has his own little games. I handed him a piece of banana bread and he quickly tore it into pieces (think deacons preparing sacrament, angrily) then used the pieces to play cars racing.


After a few laps (mind you he makes the little zooming noise) he would shove the car/piece of bread into his mouth. Then pick up another piece and start zooming that around the kitchen counter speedway. It is no wonder I have to sweep so many times a day.

Games Boys Play

If you’ve ever played games with Cooper (or Mason) you know it goes something like this:

Cooper: (low guttural voice) Come on Joe! Let’s build this tower for Frank. He needs our help.
Cooper: (another slightly different but also guttural voice) Good idea Jack. Let me get my tools.

Anyway, this guy talk thing can go on for hours. One day while Cooper was acting out a typical day at the construction site he came running to me with his guys. He asked if I would put them in the truck.

I carefully bended them up and slipped them into the front seat of the truck. Thinking, of course, that he wanted them to drive the truck. No! Think again. He – with a great deal of frustration – instructed me to have the guys “flying off the back.”


He was pleased with the end result, even if it required a great deal of coaching, and continued play acting out a typical day of runaway truck.

Manipulate

It’s bedtime; naturally my children are manipulating me so as to stay up just a little bit longer. Tonight I’ve threatened to put Coop in timeout (in every imaginably horrible spot in the house) if he gets out of bed. And yet, he’s been scooting around trying to pull one over on me. Like I can’t hear the little mouse sneaking around.

Just minutes ago I scared him right out of his pajamas, so it’s all worth it. While he was supposedly down for the night I slipped into Mason’s room to see why Mason was still crying. (As soon as I appeared to rub his back he stopped crying.) Rubbing Mason’s back through the crib slats I look through the cracked door to notice Cooper sneaking past and trying to spy into Mason’s room. I say in a low but stern whisper, “Get back in bed Cooper!” He stopped dead in his tracks and looked around bewildered. He could not see me and could not figure out a) how I could see him, b) where I was.

Immediately I had recollections of listening to Bill Cosby’s Noah and Ark skit. (This was one of my dad’s favorites, and thus one of mine.) So, I continue to ham it up. “Cooper, this is Mommy, I can see you. Go back to bed.” At this point he’s really freaked out and looking all around. Also giddily whispering, “Where are you?!?!?” His truly baffled look is cracking me up and I literally can’t control my laughing.

Through hysterical laughter I say, again, “Go back to bed.” The nervous energy takes over Cooper and he begins rapidly shuffling his feet, covers his little grin with his excited fingers and squeals, “Where are you?” I take a half step forward – out of the darkness – and press my face up against the crack in the door and bellow, “Get back in bed.”

The poor kid nearly fainted. He was so freaking scared. And that, my friends, is what parents live for. All fun aside, I still made him go to timeout for another 3 minutes. Which reminds me, I haven’t heard either of them stir for about… oh I’d say 26 lines of copy… so I better go see if their bedrooms are either a) up in flames, b) smeared in diaper ointment. You just never know.