There were no ordinary days with our youngest at age five.
I was fixing dinner one evening when he wandered into the kitchen.
“What’s that?” he asked, studying the pan on the stove.
He tilted his head. “Can I call it sook?”
“Those are still hamburger patties.”
But for dinner that night we had sook on a bun.
Another day we went shopping. He carried five pennies into the store and laid them on a shelf. As we were leaving, he discovered his loss and we had to backtrack in search of his loot. We searched long and hard but could only find four pennies.
“We need to go.” I finally laid the law down.
He went, with a long face. “I’m going to miss that penny.”
Not long after that, he came to me with eyes drooping and mouth downturned. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, but I can’t fly.”
How did he figure that out?
We were eating breakfast when he announced over scrambled eggs, “Do you know what a Gurgler is?”
I had to admit my ignorance.
“They’re a machine that sucks down people and things.”
“Yuck,” I said.
“I hate to tell you this but if you meet one, you’ll die.”
“But it’s OK because they live on the other side of the world.”
“Mom,” he said. “They’re on the movies.” He rolled his eyes while I wondered what movies he’d been watching.
He liked to help me bake so one day we stirred up a batch of muffins using a whisk to mix. Soon the batter stiffened and he lifted the whisk with the muffin ingredients clumped onto it. “Look! I have a lunk!”
He ate the lunk, too, after it baked.
Then came the day when he rushed into the kitchen, his arms flailing and his face red and hot. “Mom! Betsy says I’ll get wigworms if I drink my potty!”
I still can’t get that scenario figured out.
But I’ll bet it wasn’t an ordinary day, either.