Much like Scout the big black dog, Destroy collected all the shoes this morning.When his little arms were full, he toddled toward me chanting, “Shoe! Shoe! Shoe!”
In what I thought was a standard assumption, I took the shoes he offered out of his hands – promising we’d put them on just as soon as he put his pants on. This was not a popular decision with a certain toddler prone to tantrums thrown with dramatic flare.
He flung himself to the floor, flopping around like a floundering fish, moaning and wailing in a terrifically awesome muppet meltdown. “SHOOOOOEESSS,” he screamed amid his sobs and distinctly unhappy wiggles.
Ok, ok. Can’t dispute the kid’s communication skills on this one. Crystal. Clear.
Once shod, Destroy immediately began demanding, “Up? School?” (We’ve finally deciphered “gool.”
Now doing his happy wiggle, bouncing in place and nodding furiously, he chanted, “Gool! Gool! Gooool!”
“There’s no school today sweetie,” I reminded him. “We’re going to go see Daddy’s helicopter. Doesn’t that sound like more fun?”
“You really want to go to school, huh?” I laughed.
“Yeah,” nodded Destroy sincerely and emphatically. “Gool.”
This was a huge proud mommy moment. My son, at the tender age of (almost) two, already cherishes education. He will clearly expound upon his love of books (moving past simply tearing out all the pop-ups). He will exhibit a brilliant mind alongside his stellar athletic abilities (as the overly sexualized steamer pot went flying by my left ear).
“Why do you want to go to school, Destroy?” I asked.
Seriously, kid? Girls?!
“Lola,” he clarified with a wicked grin.
Oh good grief. Look out ladies! Destroy’s fit to get funky.
And with that, he grabbed his superhero raincoat, marched himself over to the front door and whirled around.
You can’t make this stuff up, folks.