More on the obsession with guns, and maybe pyromania too?

Tonight we were reading the new book that the Bee got for completing the public library's summer reading program. He got to pick it out himself. It's a book about firemen -- his favorite literary subject ever since he decided that he's going to be a fireman on the ladder team when he grows up. Well, really, his plan is that he and I are going to be firemen together when he grows up. I've agreed enthusiastically to go along with this plan so far, without mentioning the age limits most fire departments have that will prevent a nearly 60 year-old woman from becoming a firefighter recruit. I figure there's plenty of time for us to get into all that later on. Anyway, back to the book tonight.

Reading this 10-page book of mostly pictures takes 20 minutes because he has at least one question on every page. On the page where the firemen (actually, firemouse, firebird, and firecat) get to the fire, he asked me how the fire started. Before I could answer, he offered a couple of possibilities: "Maybe some kids were playing with matches. Or maybe a guy had a gun and it squirted lightling (aka lightning) and that started the fire."

Oh, where to start? The lightning obsession has really taken off in the last few days, ever since he overheard us talking about a jogger who was killed by lightning on a trail just a couple miles from our house last week. He doesn't really know what "killed" means, so he's not so much traumatized by this story as fascinated. And the guns "squirting" thing comes from playing with squirt guns at our friends' house on the fourth of July. M & I have both explained several times that real guns don't "squirt water," they "shoot bullets," and bullets give "very, very bad owie boo-boos -- blood owies!" Somehow this doesn't seem to be sinking in.

So what did I say to his "maybe a guy had a gun and it squirted lightling" theory? "Yeah, maybe." That's probably not going to earn me any parenting awards, but there's only so much explaining a mom can do, and only so much a 3.5 year-old boy can take.

Totally unnecessary!

Last night we were all in the car on our way home from a Rockies game (the Bee's first...he was more into the peanuts, cotton candy & four-year old boy in the seat in front of him than he was the game...oh well, I was more into talking to the woman next to me about her adoption from Nepal and can't say that I watched so much as five minutes of the game, so I can't really say much, can I?), and I told M that I'd recently lost five pounds. Not that I have a whole lot to lose, but I've had an excess 6-7 pounds hanging around since the Bee was born that I just can't seem to shake. So anyway, the Bee overhears part of this from the backseat, and pipes up with his oft-repeated "What did you say Mommy?"

Me: "I was telling Daddy I'd lost five pounds."

Bee: "But what does that mean?"

Me: "Well, you know how you're 31.5? That's 31.5 pounds. It's what you weigh." [Bee is very into weighing himself, and wants to get on the scale nearly every day. Fortunately, he's not worried by the fact that he hasn't gained an ounce since his three-year check-up in January. Can't say the same for me...] "I was telling Daddy I've lost five pounds."

Bee: "Oh. So how much do you weigh now?"

Me: "130.5." [Yep, I've just announced my weight to the world. Yippee freakin' skippy.]

Bee: "Whooooooooaaa!!!!"

M: [while laughing uncontrollably] "You've gotta put THAT in your blog!"

Totally unnecessary.

Really? Already?!

We've had our first threat to run away. Yes, the Bee has said he's going to run away and go live at M & M's house. Why? Because they're allowed to play with guns. "The playing kind, not the eating kind" (there is some confusion over the difference between "gun" and "gum" going on here...). We went to their house on the 4th of July, and the Bee discovered the joys of squirt guns. Then just a few days later, a friend at his preschool had a birthday & brought each kid a goodie bag. Thankfully, the teachers put this up for parents to check out, rather than giving it to the kids...we left the bubble gum and the toy gun at school. (side note: WHO THE HELL gives bubble gum and guns to three year-olds?????) So the end result of my roundabout story: the Bee has developed a fascination with guns.

We've just explained it with "M and M's parents have different rules than we do. We just don't have guns in our house." This is something I've found myself saying a lot lately. "No, you can't ride standing up in the back seat of the car like Christopher does. I have different rules than his mommy does." or "No, you can't play in the street like Andrew does. I have different rules than his mommy does." Well, apparently he likes the rules M&Ms' parents have better than ours. Or at least that's what he told me.

We've also had a very brief conversation about how guns can hurt people -- give "blood owies" -- and only policemen should have them. He's not buying it.

But seriously, he's already threatening to run away at age 3.5? God help us when he's a teenager.

What made me laugh today

Today we went to the "wakarium." Some people call it an aquarium. The Bee touched a stingray, something he is very proud of.

M tells me that this morning he & Bee were watching cartoons. A bunch of cartoon animals were throwing cream pies at each other. Some animal threw a pie in the face of a cartoon chicken, and Bee looked at his daddy & very matter of factly said, "Chicken pot pie."

The wound fingee

This morning at breakfast, the Bee looked at me and asked, "Mommy, what was that wound fingee [round thingee] Michael gave me to eat yesterday?" I wasn't sure, so I asked some questions: "Where did he get it?" "He lifted me up and I took it off the plate." "What did it taste like?" "Yummy." This wasn't getting us anywhere, so I said I didn't know. Surprisingly, there was no fit of rage.

Some time went by, maybe 15 minutes or so. Obviously he'd been thinking about this. So he said, "Mommy, c'mere. I wanna show you something that looks like that wound fingee Michael gave me to eat yesterday." He said it was "in the gween box downstaiws." Well, this time I knew what he was talking about. These are the bins where we keep art supplies:

The green one on the bottom is where I keep my stuff (the bins are heavy & he can't lift them, so I'm hoping my non-washable paints are safe from him there). I lifted the top two for him, and he went through the green one but came up empty-handed. "Maybe it's in the red one?" I asked. He nodded, and I lifted up the top one so he could go through the red one. He pawed around in there, shaking his head, then his face lit up, and he held up this, saying "It looked like this mommy!"

Anyone want to guess what the round thing was that he ate last night? I'll give you a hint: we were at a 4th of July potluck. It's something that pops up at nearly every potluck I've ever been to, in the appetizer section. Anyone?

OK, I'll tell you. Unfortunately I don't know what they're called, but you take a tortilla, spread stuff on it, then roll it up & slice it. It looks exactly like that "wound fingee!" Anybody have a recipe for these? Apparently the Bee likes them quite a bit.

And how smart was that, figuring out how to give me the clue I needed to figure out what he was talking about?!

But does it taste like feet?

I ran into the liquor store w/the Bee in tow yesterday to get some beer & wine. I was looking at the wine in the cooler, when this conversation transpired:

Bee: "I want to get this one Mommy!"
Mommy: "But I don't really like that kind" (not a chardonnay drinker) "so I'm going to get this kind."
B: "But does this one smell like feet?"
M: "No, it's not that bad! I just don't like that kind."
B: "But does it taste like feet?"

The the little lightbulb went on in my head. The kind he had wanted me to get was some Barefoot Vineyards or something, and had a drawing of a foot on the label. Of course it must either smell or taste like feet. Smart Bee!