Now seems like as good a time as any to introduce you to my three-and-a-half year old, Humdinger. He adds quite a lot of spunk (and copious amounts of pee) to our house and I will try to paint an accurate word picture to portray his personality. Humdinger is aptly named because the right words to correctly explain him do not exist. He’s cute. He’s indescribable.
Mutiple times a day I hear myself vocalizing utterly ridiculous phrases to this kid such as:
“It’s not polite to eat lunch naked,”
“You may not get into the wagon when you have no clothes on,”
“No, the mailman is not naked too,”
“You do NOT want to go feed the chickens without underpants on. TRUST me,” or
“It’s not okay to squat and shake yourself. In the kitchen.”
For whatever reason, the kid is well-nigh a nudist. Which is unacceptable. Because I’m not sure he’s all that great at wiping.
This little corker is always doing crazy things. Recently I came downstairs from feeding Squidgy and I heard Mr. Diaz call out to me “Hey, come watch this.” So I walked into the kitchen and saw Humdinger standing atop a tall empty Costco-sized salsa container, covered in sink bubbles and doing shots of yellow mustard. Yes.
Who knocks back mustard-shots while naked? And isn’t roaring drunk?
Mr. Diaz was squirting it directly into his mouth from the bottle. And Humdinger loved it. Heck, I wish he liked clothing as much as he seems to adore yellow mustard.
Humdinger is also at the tail end of toilet training. This has taken an unusually long time. After endless months of rewards, charts, clapping, discipline, cheering, begging and whining (that was me) and an endless supply of skittles, he is finally not pooping his pants.
“WHAT pants?” You’re asking, “I thought he doesn’t wear pants.”
The road I’ve traveled to get this kid on the pot has been long and rough and paved with Skittles. Then the unthinkable happened. The cow dried up and the skittles ran out. In order not to rock the world Humdinger lives in after the progress we made (because that gets ugly), we reluctantly resorted to offering the only candy we had in the house that was leftover piñata bounty from a recent company picnic. NOW every time he poops, instead of two skittles, he’s getting two good-sized chocolate coins. Humdinger has brilliantly figured out that if he eeks out the tiniest remnant of poop possible, he’ll get two chocolates. Less than an hour later he creates a few more nuggets and gets even more candy. He’s currently gorking down 8 pieces of candy before breakfast, and I’m getting played.
I can well imagine that look in your eye. No doubt you’re thoroughly impressed by my wicked awesome parenting skills right now. What can I say? I have been manipulated by a 3-year-old nudist who has a hankering for chocolate and yellow mustard.
I love this moppet. Our lives would be rather dull without his crazy shenanigans. At night I sneak into his room, see his tiny unclad body, and I tiptoe to his bedside and whisper into his ear “I love you. You are original. There’s no one like you. You’re my very favorite child.”
And you know what?
It’s totally true.