Wednesday, April 28, 2010

That Kid Stinks!


Liam.  Little Idiosyncrasies: Amusing Mammal.  Yup, that about sums it up.  I adore him but there is no one else in the world who frustrates me more.  He is strong willed.  He is busy.  If Liam were a painting he would be a Picasso.  He is demanding.  He is hilarious.  He is mine.

"What's your name?"
"LIAM OLIVER 'DISCO' RUSNAK!"  He owns it.  He's proud of it.  He just hit his sister with a drum stick...
"Liam - get upstairs!"  And he runs because he doesn't want to find out what will happen if he doesn't.
Noa's crying her drama queen tears and Liam's calling from the top step before the first minute is up, "I'm weady to be nice!"
"Three minutes, Liam!"
He waits it out until I let him come back down.  He tries to hug Noa but she pushes him away.  "I'm sorrwy, Noa."
"Nooooo!" She pushes him again.
"Why did you hit your sister with the drum stick, Liam?"
He shrugs, "Her head was cwoser den da dwums."

   Oh, how I love him.

Monday morning.  I enter the living room to find Liam standing spread-eagle, a puddle growing at his feet, and he's struggling to spread his legs farther apart as the puddle grows - heaven forbid he get his ninja turtle socks wet.  He finishes. Walks away.  Sees me.  "Dood morning, Mommy."
"What happened on the floor?"
"I don't know."
"Did you pee on the floor?"
"Dander did it.  Tan I have Torn Pops?"

   Oh, how I love him.


   "Knock, knock." Grinning.
   "Who's there?"
   "Simpson's." Little giggle.
   "Simpson's who?"
   "Simpson's GooGoo GaGa - HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!"
   Liam is his own favorite comedian.  He made that one up himself.

   Oh, how I love him.


If PullUps was a political party Liam would be their most dedicated supporter.  He has chosen a firm anti-potty position and he's sticking to it.  He could be the spirited campaign manager.  He could start a protest - leading a parade of kids waving signs chanting, "No, no, we won't go!" or "Death to the Potties!"
I've put in a good year of dedicated effort.  I've been encouraging.  I've been supportive.  I've also been frustrated and angry.  I've threatened to make him wear diapers again.
We conquered number 2 a long time ago.  That's supposed to be the hard one but it's the other that he doesn't care about.  He's just lazy and it makes me crazy.  Every time I load a new package into my shopping cart I have to swallow my frustration.  There goes another $15.
And then there's the smell.  "Can't you smell yourself, Liam?  You stink!"
He shrugs.  He doesn't care.

   Oh, how I love him.


"Mommy, Liam got the baseball bat stuck in the tree again!"
I go outside.  The bat and the happy face frisbee are both stuck in the apple tree far beyond my reach.        
"Daddy will be home in three days, you'll have to wait until then."
"NO - I need them NOW!" And he sounds like a kid in dire need of an exorcist. 

   Oh, how I love him.



   Every night I tuck him in and sing him a Christmas carol no matter what time of year it is.  I kiss him.    
   "Love you, Mommy."  
   "I love you, too,  Liam."  And I really, really do.

2 comments :

  1. Brian AustinMay 13, 2010

    I almost think I know that boy. Do I dare admit he shares some of my genetics?

    I've heard that targets painted in strategic places help. Shall I come over with a paint-brush?

    How could you help but love him? I do too! And he gives some of the best hugs in the world.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ha! I think you should just keep your paint brush to yourself - he's doing much better now - still makes me crazy but I think that's just part of the deal.

    ReplyDelete

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