I broke your rock, mommy

Espen has always been strong. Of spirit, of will, of emotion, of limb. He moves through the world with conviction, which is inspiring and sometimes, surprising. 

Last night he was bathing in our large soaking tub, recreating the scene of his recent amphibious vehicle excursion on Lake Union. His little red wooden truck was said floating vehicle and he wanted me to tie a boat on TOP of the truck, which had been relegated to act as "pontoon". He is three mind you.

"Mom! It's a pontoon on my amphibious vehicle! Tie it on!" 

"Ok. Here you go. You have two more minutes before it's time to get out."

"Ok. Now do this thing." He goes through an elaborate sequence of motions and directions that become more garbled the more excited he becomes. I, frankly, am tired and not that up to deciphering the 12 step process he is requiring.

"Espen, you go ahead and do it. You have two minutes."

Espen reaches down and closes the drain, halting the water removal. He smiles with mischief and pride.

"Espen, you need to let the water out. The deal was you could stay until it was all gone, not stop it and play longer."

He stares at me as I move to unplug the drain. I can see the emotion rising in his body like a brewing storm. He looks around for available objects to enact this upon. 

And settles on my piece of amber that is sitting in the water as a special treat to make bath even more magical.

He lunges towards it, grabs it and hurls it with all the passion he holds inside. 

We both watch as it shatters into a hundred tiny pieces. 

Part of me is fascinated, the other part a bit sad as it was a favorite piece. 

Espen freezes. Looks at me, surprised himself perhaps at the results of his anger.

"Espen! Your anger just broke mommy's special rock!" 

Espen jumps quickly out of the tub and comes closer to me.

Internally, I congratulate myself on not yelling, but rather using my voice to portray importance. Way to not loose your shit, mama. You are evolving.

This seems like an ideal time to do a small teaching since I am emotionally triggered but still calm enough to reason. But where to begin? Espen steps in. 

"I'm sorry I broke your special rock, mommy. We can glue it back together." he offers helpfully, trying to make amends.

"Well, Boo. We can't glue it. It's too smashed. It can't be fixed."

He pauses to consider.

"Well mommy, I'm sorry I broke your rock. I will go get you one from my sand pit."

Inside I'm laughing. Keep a straight face.

"That's the right thing to do, to try and fix what you broke, honey, but it's not quite the same. That special rock was one of a kind and it can't be replaced. Mommy is just going to be a little sad for awhile, but thank you for wanting to make it right."

Espen peers deeply into my eyes.

"I'm sorry you're sad, mommy. I'm going to get you that rock."

And runs off nude to his sand pit. He returns with a teeny tiny pebble and places it on my nightstand. Than runs back to me looking pleased.

"There, mommy. I put it on your table thing so you won't be sad anymore."

That kid. Squishy. Love love. 

And that's how it's done, folks. From sad mommy to melty heart in one minuscule rock flat.

The Flinging of the Poop

This is just a short burst of Espenalalia.

After a long and fun day of tooling around Farmers Markets, Ecstatic Dance, and visiting cousins, Espen and I returned home in time to make dinner and head for bed.

In the few moments when I sat on the couch to check my Very Important Text Messages, Espen managed to poop in his little green potty.

He has developed an endearing habit of plopping the removable seat upside down in the toilet and placing it back on the potty base, empty but, well, asmear.

Tonite, he was more dramatic with his ritual.

I lay on the couch, listening for the flushing of the big toilet...but instead heard the patter of little feet.

"Look mommy! I pooped!" He rounded the corner with the green insert in hand. Thumped it on the ground ten feet away from me.

Lord knows I wanted to enjoy 4 minutes of uninterrupted peace before starting dinner...but what can you do when your Sweet Little brings you his Great Achievement?

I got up and trotted to the potty to look in and be amazed.

Nothing was in there except the Remains of Achievement.

And to be honest, I wasn't in the mood to pick it up, which thankfully was prevented by Tobias' Timely Return home.

I forgot all about the Green Glory until after dinner when Espen dropped his plate by it on his way to the sink.

Tobias, however, discovered it for the first time.

"Why...is..there...a poopy POTTY IN HERE...?!"

To his credit, Tobias has a strong tolerance for most bodily secretions, however, he does have his triggers. Toe nails and poopy potties in the dining room are two of them.

Espen looked confused, as if to say, "What, THAT old thing? Oh, it's nothing to get wild about, really."

Tobias was unconvinced. "Espen, take that potty back to the bathroom. Now."

I sought to back him up.

"Wesp, go put your plate in the sink and then take your potty back to the bathroom."

In a gleeful fury, Espen tossed his plate to me and ran to the potty.

I could see the gleam in his eye that boded no good.

"Espen..." was all I could get out before he hurled the Green Unclean against the wall.

He laughed and sped towards the bathroom.
I intercepted him.

"Go get that potty and bring it to the bathroom please."

He glanced at me. I could see the writing on the wall. And yet, like a moth staring at the bug zapper, I stood transfixed. Waiting to see what would happen. As if some other outcome besides more Flying Shit could occur.

Espen walked to the potty, picked it up, looked at me once more, and threw it directly at the piano.

His aim was good.

But so was mine. I swooped up his little hand in mine and marched off to bed.
The sounds of Tobias scrubbing the potty in the bathroom punctuated the beginning of Espen's Reprieve.