I haven’t written Wacky Wednesday for a while because life has seemed somewhat normal. This week, though, my four year old, Little Ironman, has come out with some wacky words.
To give you some background, swimming has been a challenge for him. Unless he was with me, he would cry loudly with all swimming teachers, play dead fish (i.e. make no attempt to do anything) and, basically, just be miserable. This summer, though, he suddenly became a swimmer and he has enthusiastically gone to a swim lesson four days a week.
On Monday, making small talk, I asked him how his lesson was:
LI: Good – until I was standing in the middle of the water all by myself.
Me: (envisioning my son trying to tread water or pretend he is Moses) What do you mean, honey?
LI: I was just there standing in the middle of the water all by myself waiting for my teacher to finish picking her nose. Come on, how long does it take to pick your nose?
A four year old would know, wouldn’t he (or she)?
So, today, on the way to his lesson, LI referred back to the nose-picking incident.
LI: I don’t feel like swimming today.
Me (cringing, with visions of a kicking, screaming 4 year old who doesn’t want to go in the pool): Why not, honey?
LI: I don’t want to have to wait for my teacher to pick her nose again. I think I’m going to have tell her that my arm isn’t a kleenex.
Poor kid. I bit my tongue but I didn’t say anything. After all, he is only four; who knows what is really going on in that little mind of his.
But, after his lesson, LI proudly told me about a deal he made with his teacher.
“It’s okay if you pick your nose,” he apparently told her, “as long as I’m holding onto the flutter board and you’re holding onto the other end.”
My kid is a genius. By the age of five, he has learned how to swim, ride, run and, apparently, he can now negotiate his terms clearly and succinctly. And, let’s not ignore his awareness for self-preservation. My son is going places.