I finally had to give in and write down what Henry has been saying. He has been talking non-stop. I don’t know if this is a factor or summer, being 5, being 5 1/3, having Miranda and me and Grandma and Bella all to himself all day – is it the estrogen, Henry? because Grandpa could make time for you, really, or some ungodly combination. In any event, Henry starts talking long about 5 am and rarely quiets until after being shushed at bedtime. It is amazing that I took Henry to speech therapy at 18 months because he didn’t talk at all. I met a mom shortly after he started who suggested that quiet men were pretty norma Her husband was 35 and he talked as little as possible. The quiet man days are over.
If you were to meet Henry tomorrow and he didn’t know you and love you, you’d probably think I am exaggerating. I do exaggerate, but not so much this time. But if you met Henry, he’d clam up. He’d hide his head behind me. He’d barely whisper to me, much less tell you about the time he had a dream about cheese. But that’s neither here nor there. My grandfather, who can at times be impatient and doesn’t let on that he is a very good listener, showed Henry (and Miranda) how to make birdhouses out of real wood. And since then, great-Grandpa had moved into the ranks of people to be showered with Henry’s voice. He was a tad overwhelmed by it on the last visit, to put it delicately. At least he could turn off his hearing aid if he wished, but then he would miss out on some gems.
[I digress to say that as I typed up that paragraph, I could only think of Mary Poppins and the song Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. And how the guy who sang “I said it to me girl and now me girl’s me wife…and a lovely thing she is too” got more than he bargained for. So did Grandpa.]
After his Monday T-ball game (no one lost and that’s grand), the flavor of the day at the frozen custard stand was white chocolate pecan. And Henry started laughing. White chocolate is pretty funny.
NB: Rob says it “pa kahn,” I say it more like “pee-cahn”
But pecan! Like at the zoo.
White chocolate pecan. The bird with all feathers.
Do you mean peacock?
Oh, a pecan is a nut, not a bird. Bird ice cream would be yucky, don’t you think?
Henry: Who’s the mayor of our family?
H: Is it Papa or Grandpa?
S: Why not Mom or Grandma?
H: Well, the mayor has to kill the chipmunks.
S: Kill the chipmunks? What?
H: To be the mayor.
S: Is that what mayor’s do?
H: Well, you have to beat them at ping pong.
S: the chipmunks? And Papa or Grandpa would be good at that?
Sarah: …and that’s a cousin.
Henry: Who are my cousins?
S: Well, on Papa’s side, you have lots of cousins. Remember, at Uncle J’s – cousin J and J and J?
S: And on my side, you have J.
H: Who’s on my side?
S: Well, they’re all on your side.
S: When you get married your family is your side and your wife’s family is her side.
H: Hmmm. Why isn’t my teacher at SafetyTown married?
S: Well, T is still pretty young (13-14 is my guess)
H: So he can’t drive yet?
S: No. 2-3 years away.
H: I can’t wait to get my drivers license.
When Henry isn’t talking, someone else usually is. On our way to the River Edge Nature ride last Sunday, Miranda and I recapped the civil war, Dr. King, the Revolutionary War, evolution and libraries.
Bella has her first top (right I think) tooth peeking out. She has been crabby. She is still doing very slow cruising. She can climb all of the steps. She almost fell into the bathtub head first. She is about 90% weaned. She wants to keep up with maaa-maaa (mom) and aaaa-nnnaaaa (Grandma). And Miranda and Henry should not leave her alone, ever.
Happy Independence Day, America!