Hard to believe, but Owen has been three for nearly a month. I swear we must have jumped through a wormhole because it feels impossible that I have a three year old and a one year old.
While I find myself in the throes of deep sadness every time I think about how big my boy is getting, Owen is super excited about growing. He says “One day I will be able to touch the floor and the ceiling at the same time!” He even explained to me “When I grow bigger, my penis will be big like Daddy’s. Right now it is little because I am little.” Thanks for clarifying, Owen. Glad your penis won’t be this same size when you’re 18.
Besides getting physically larger, the past few months have brought changes. Owen rarely takes a nap now. (Jesus help me.) He’s become obsessed with Paw Patrol, rescues, and emergencies, which all involve a lot of imitation siren noises. Life has not been peaceful lately to say the least.
Owen always wants to be the center of conversations. He gets downright feisty if two adults are talking and he’s left out: “STOP TALKING!!” And like a typical toddler or preschooler, he just keeps interrupting until he gets his way. Then when all is quiet and no one is talking without including him, he says “So what did you do at work today? Huh?”
He delays bedtime by continuing conversations, saying “I want to talk about something else. Talk to me!!” It’s hard to shut down the talking and leave the room because I think of the future days when I won’t be allowed in his bedroom and talking to me will be embarrassing. Also, Demanding Owen is very scary and when he spits out an order my kneejerk reaction is to do as he says with a “Yes, sir!”
So I keep engaging in ridiculous conversations with a three year old for ridiculously long periods of time. One comment in front of Owen can lead to an onslaught of hundreds of questions. For example, one day I was singing “It’s Raining, It’s Pouring.” Rather than complimenting me on my exceptional singing and entertainment, Owen attacked me with questions. “Why is the man snoring? But WHY? Why did he go to bed? Why is it raining? How did he bump his head?” Yikes. Next time I’ll keep the tune to myself.
But despite wanting to talk to me 24/7, he takes offense to almost everything I say. His standard response to every comment that comes out of my mouth is “Don’t say that, Mommy. That’s not very nice. If you say that one more time, you’re going in time out. And you REALLY don’t want to go in time out.” (I’ve never made it into Owen’s time out, just been threatened with it. I imagine it to be the tenth circle of hell, but it’s probably being forced to watch his favorite episode of Paw Patrol again. Or maybe that is the tenth circle of hell?)
Next to asking questions, Owen’s second favorite thing to communicate is a staggering amount of complaints.
We walk by a garden on a beautiful day. He turns up his nose with disdain at the freshly strewn mulch: “I smell sumthin’.”
He complains about not being allowed to eat the banana peel, but whines when I give him an unpeeled grape or blueberry. “Take the skin off!!” (I do have some parental limits. There is no way I’m peeling a blueberry. But I will let him taste the banana peel if it makes him shut up.)
Lately Owen likes to comment on my cooking: “That smells terrible. This is disgusting.” It’s great motivation to come home and slave over a hot stove to make a home cooked meal. Thank god Wendy’s is a mile away and that I’ve developed a very thick skin since becoming a mother.
Owen spots my moles and freckles and asks what they are with disgust. I explain that they are part of my skin and Owen says “No. They need to go away.” Then he fetches his toy doctor kit, pulls out his plastic tweezers, pins me down and tries to pinch a mole out of my flesh while cackling. It’s all very American Horror Story.
When we went on a Ferris wheel ride and I was crying because I’m terrified of heights, Owen looked at me with zero sympathy and said “Stop being a baby, Mommy.” Ouch. Let me tell you, after your child basically calls you a pussy, you suck it up real fast and pretend to enjoy hanging in a rotating circle in the sky.
Yep, he has a way with words. Here are some more observations and moments from the past few months that I have to share with you:
- Owen has become quite the dramatic storyteller. His stories usually include exclamations such as “And I was like that’s ree-DIK-ulous!” or “When all of the sudden…” or “I was like WHAT?!?”
- With his active imagination, everything that comes out of Owen’s mouth should not be believed. Yet he frequently says to me “You’re making up stories.”
- Owen never misses an opportunity to talk about his goods. And by “goods” I mean “penis.” When he needs to go to the potty, he says “My penis has to pee.”
- While watching videos of himself, Owen smiles and says “Hello, Best Friend!” Weird and a little pathetic but cute all at the same time.
- Interrupting while I’m using the bathroom, Owen started rummaging in the closet and pulled out a maxi pad. He tossed it at me and said “Girls need one when they go potty.”
- Sometimes he says completely random things like “Wait here. I need to go to the bathroom to see if I have something in my teeth.” Or “I like pizza. But I don’t like bad guys. But I like bad guy games.”
- When he has energy, he often remarks about his “super powers.” When he’s feeling tired he’ll say “I lost my walking powers. Can you use your 8 muscles to carry me?” (Yeah, I have no idea why Owen decided I only have 8 muscles, but it’s always very specifically 8.)
- Do not share secrets withOwen. He will rat your ass out. For example: “Nana gave me fruit snacks from up there.” “Nana said we can only have a little bit of ice cream and then we have to put it away.” “Nana says I can pee in the ocean, but not when Daddy is here.”
- According to Owen, everything must have a mother and father or a baby. When he sees a large animal – “Where’s its baby?” When he sees a small squirrel – “Where’s its Mommy??” He becomes deeply concerned if an animal has no parents in sight.
- Sometimes he pronounces a word incorrectly and then he laughs at himself hysterically. I love that he never gets embarrassed and laughs without hesitation.
- When I was upset and crying one day, Owen looked at my tears and said “Wipe away the raindrops on your face, Mommy.” Sometimes he says just the right thing.
Each night together we usually watch a cartoon and read a couple books (or the same book about 17 times) after Carmendy goes to bed. Then we tell Owen it’s his bedtime. He usually fusses for a moment and then he gives in and says goodnight to me as he heads out of the room. Then he stops and runs back for a hug. He goes back to the doorway. Then runs back again for “one more” hug and “one more” kiss. And again and again. Finally I say that’s it, no more. But really I wouldn’t mind if he came back one more time all night. Then he runs back one last time and tries to rub his butt on me and I know that it is WAY past bedtime.
Here’s our three-year-old superhero:
Owen’s silly faces are the BEST.
Thanks for watching Owen grow.