By: Tosha Woronov
Recently Leo sang a little song to me. It went like this: “Mom…I looooove you…I loooove you…and I loooove your…yellow teeth.”
(WTF? Yellow!? The kid knows his colors! He could have at least said “beige”.)
And then this morning, he announced, “I’m ready to brush my teeth now, poo-poo-head!”
Which got me to thinking: does my hair really look like shit? and –what the hell has happened to my sweet little boy?
We keep a jar of “Leo-isms” – random scraps of paper containing the crazy stuff Leo has said over the last 3 years, as well as his age at the time he said it (we didn’t understand a word he was saying until he hit 26 months, so the jar starts about then). I am determined to document the crap out of this kid’s life, but I can’t take credit for the jar idea. That came from The Year of Magical Thinking. In the book, my hero, Joan Didion, mentions a wooden box that houses the childhood witticisms of Quintana Roo, her daughter with John Dunne.
I have been reading through the jar today, trying to pinpoint when my angel got so saucy, and now I feel like sharing some of his better quotes.
Age 2 ½ (Finishes a cookie. Then): my burp smells like m&ms.
Age 3 (Pete, dressed in a suit and tie for a wedding, comes downstairs): Oh Daddy! You look SO CUTE!
Age 3 (Getting dressed, putting on a shirt, pops his head through neck hole): It’s like a parking garage!
Age 3 ¼ (I was out of town for 2 nights. He hugs me when I return): Oh! I can smell you! You smell like a big cookie!
Age 3 ¼ (passing by a Catholic Church): Look at that ‘school’! It has a giant lower-case “t” on it!!! (not so religious, us)
Age 3 ¼ (over-hearing a man say that his friend has two degrees): Wow! That’s cold!
Age 3 ½ (“flirting” with a friend, age 10, on the phone): so, what kind of sippy cups do you have?
Age 3 ½ (in bed, after bedtime stories, lights out): I’ll have a diet coke, please (he has never tasted a coke).
Age 3 ½ (looking at family pictures): And there’s mama. I love that beautiful girl.
Age 4 (To mommy): I love you for 102 years and as much as the whole world and all 3 big oceans together. (To daddy): I love you as much as…those bookshelves.
Age 4 (Singing along in the car to Bob Marley): I CHOC-OLATE CHER-RY! But I didn’t shoot the deputy…
Age 4 (60 Minutes is on): Dad, do you want to come listen? Rock Obama is going to talk. Do you want to hear his talking? His talking is so beautiful.
Age 4 (Walks in on me as I’m getting out of the tub. Hasn’t seen me naked – lucky guy –since he was 3): Gross! Your penis is DISGUSTING! (Ah! Now I understand. It started HERE, when he saw my penis.)
Age 4 ¾ (I am dressed for work. Woke him up for school. First words out of his mouth): You don’t look good. Please change.
Age 5: Mom, do you like Dove? [What’s dove?] I saw it on tv, ‘moms love dove’. [Oh, the commercial? Sure, I like Dove] You don’t look like you use it on your hair. You don’t look like the moms in the commercial.
Age 5: Mom, I can spell all the short words myself. And even some long ones. But don’t worry. I’ll still need you.
Age 5: You’re the best mama in the world. That means ‘I love you’ in my language.
Age 5 (while eating gold foil-wrapped chocolate coins, I remind him not to eat too many): Mom, so far I’ve only had 75 cents.
Age 5 ¼: I don’t like my belly. It doesn’t sleep well.
Age 5 ¼: Daddy, you have butter all over your arm. [I know, I’m sweaty.] Your sweat feels like butter all the time.
Last night: I miss you, mommy, when I’m sleeping.
Me, too, buddy. Me too.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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