He's Kinda Weird

There comes a moment in every parent's life when we realize the truth about our beautiful, bouncing babies. (Also, why do we call babies bouncing?) With Cooper the moment was a little later. I blame this on my second pregnancy. I was too tired and sick and drugged out (the drugs to keep me pregnant and not sick) to remember much of Cooper's second year of life. But by November of 2007 I realized he might have a problem with costumes.

With Mason it's been sneaking up on me all summer. Here's the thing, while Cooper loves to put costumes on, Mason loves to take his clothes off. He's an anti-social stripper. What's a mom to do when you realize this? First there is the sigh of relief that you don't have the stupid kid. Then an equally grateful sigh of relief that you don't have the mean kid. But then you start to rule out some of the other categories and it's a little -- I don't know -- cause for head scratching. Certainly NOT concern because you know, we all love our kids no matter what. But you wonder where they come from. And sadly, you still remember exactly where they came from and how they got out -- OUCH -- and so it's like a complete mystery.



The more weird things Mason does, the more I love him. Totally and completely. Today I watched through a little crack in his bedroom door as he played with his Buzz Lightyear and Woody dolls. He petted them, hugged them, kissed them, had them kiss each other. Then he covered them up with his prized blanket. It's all "pretend" play -- which is to say he's likely pretending scenarios in his head concerning the dolls as real life folks -- and completely within the realm of normal. But how did he fall in love with the characters from Toy Story SOOOOO much?


It's not uncommon for me to find him naked. Sometimes it's the top half. Other times it's the bottom. He even brings me a diaper when he's ready for a change. And if I don't step to it, he'll just start taking his diaper off... muddy and all. I'm glad he's got the hygiene thing down. But he gets carried away with Band-Aids. He requires a vanity Band Aid every time he gets bumped or bruised. As soon as he gets a bonk or a boo-boo (self-inflicted or otherwise) he runs to the bathroom cupboard where the Band-Aids are kept and starts begging for one. Then he proceeds to open it and adhere it to whatever hurts.


In a nutshell he's quirky. Now I'm not trying to abdicate any quirkiness my husband or I have. I'm just saying he's kinda weird. AND we love him.