All of my children are funny, at times, but my four-year old is always funny. In our house, he is Mr. Personality. He has an opinion about everything, and at four, he is in a constant state of discovery. His pretend play is getting rather elaborate, and his ability to mimic and mock your words and expressions is truly amazing. And on top of all that, there is something new and unusual coming out of his mouth every single day.
Here lately, we've been enduring his fascination and love of chewing gum, or "chewing guns" as he usually calls it. We have Daddy to thank for this introduction and subsequent fascination. It may have happened before, but I know his current obsession really started on our long trip to Florida over the Christmas holiday. Daddy is notorious for picking up a candy stash on our first gas station stop, to help pass the time while driving (healthy, we know). One of the items was chewing gum. And in an attempt to keep the little man quiet for just a few minutes (he'd been talking non-stop for hours, Daddy caved and gave him a piece of bright blue Bubble Yum. And now, it's all the poor kid can think about.
Every afternoon, he waits with eager anticipation for Daddy to come home. Not because he's excited to see him, mind you, but because Daddy is the keeper of the chewing gum. Mommy is so not going there in her house all day long with three little boys.
So, every afternoon starting about 3 p.m. or so, Connor starts hovering in the kitchen (poor kid, Daddy doesn't come home until six or later most nights). But, the kitchen is where we keep the extra chewing gum.
"Daddy be home soon," he says, excited and watching the door from the garage to the house. "Daddy be home and give me chewing guns!" We go through this dialogue about 10 times every afternoon, and any time that we're going for a ride in the truck. He also now associates that with chewing gum. Slightly obsessed, to say the least.
When he gets a piece, he runs over to you to show it to you.
"Daddy gave me chewing guns! Look, see!" The poor kid is so excited he can't stand it.
Today he took it to a whole new level. He was pretending to have chewing gum. He would walk around chomping his mouth on the pretend gum, first telling me to look and see, and then walking up to me and pointing to the pretend trash can.
"I spit it in the trash can," he would say, quite seriously. "No spit gum on floor or couch. No play with it. That's bad!"
These are, of course, things we tell him all the time when he's managed to get the coveted chewing gum. We don't play with it, put our fingers in our mouth, or spit it out anywhere but in the trash can. He's clearly gotten that part down, so much so that he feels the need to return the lecture to us during pretend chewing gum.
Pretend chewing gum. Really? Apparently so.
