My life has started being narrated. Well, his life, more specifically. He’ll start explaining the order things will occur and what will happen. It’s like a listed stream of consciousness prose. Not sentences, but clearly a narrative. For example discussing what will happen to his stuffed monkey that day:
You take the monkey to work,
then you bring the monkey back,
then you sleep with the monkey,
then you give me the monkey back
Or telling me how our Saturday morning will go:
It is not a school day,
you will go make your coffee,
then I will go watch truck videos,
then we will eat breastik [sic],
then you will bring your coffee and watch truck videos
Other times the conversations make a lot of sense linguistically, just not logically. The other night at dinner we were eating tacos, but Moriarty likes his tacos deconstructed. So he had a tortilla with beans, beef, tomatoes, and avocado in piles on to
Me: eat your beans and beef
Moriarty: I don't have beef
Me: you have beef here (pointing). Like in hamburgers
Moriarty: (laughing) No. That's not beef, it’s tacos! You were being silly. (More laughing)
There’s never a dull moment. We were driving home from something and he randomly announced, “I don't need to throw up”. Tonight at dinner he dipped a strawberry into catsup and announced, “It matches!”.
For Christmas we flew to Baltimore to see my dad, and Moriarty's various aunts and uncles. Moriarty was really excited about seeing his relatives, but also very inquisitive about the specifics of the air travel. One morning he randomly started asking questions without waiting for responses:
Is it time to get on the plane?
Who will fly the plane?
Will YOU fly the plane?
I told him I was not qualified to fly the plane and the pilots would do that.
Will we sit in the front of the plane with the pilots?
He did get to sit in the cockpit before our flight out there and overall did a great job with the air travel. The airports were stressful for me because, well, he’s nearly 3 and “we have to stay in this artificial hallway rope line right now” doesn’t exactly make sense.
The trip to Baltimore was a ton of fun. He took down my father’s many many LEGO sets and played with them all (sometimes to the point of destruction). If it didn’t start its life as a truck he helped it become one.
We read books every night before bed and recently I added a poem or two to our routine. We got a copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends and Moriarty is so into it now. The first night, after we’d read a poem about a crocodile who goes to the dentist, we asked him if he liked the poetry. He replied “what’s poe the tree?” This is a way I bring my mom into his life.