Things Toddlers Don't Understand

At the ripe-old age of three, my son apparently knows way more than I thought he did.  For instance, even though he's 13 years away from his driver's license, and about 2 feet from being able to reach the gas peddle, he is already a better drive than I am.  And, he has no problem letting me know by shouting his little backseat-driver directions from his five-point harness car seat.  "Momma, that's a stop sign.  You have to stop".  What he doesn't get is that stop signs in the Meijer parking lot don't really count as stop signs.  They're just there for decoration.  "Momma why are you going slow?"  Well, because if I go any faster, I'm going to ram into the car in front of me, and that just wouldn't be fun, now would it?  (Well, maybe a little.).  "Momma, stop turning like that."  If I don't turn, we're going to go off the road and into the ditch.  Not what I had on my agenda today.  So, as my son was kindly informing me of my faults as a driver, it led me to think that, although he knows a lot, there are some things he just doesn't get.

Image c/o www.caseygp.blogspot.com

Boxer Shorts:
One day, on an impulse-purchase shopping spree, I bought my son some boxer shorts.  How cute, little tiny boxer shorts!  I took them home, showed them to him, and he was not impressed.  First, they didn't have Thomas the Train or Toy Story on them.  Boring.  Second, they didn't look like the whitey-tighties he's used to wearing.  So, in a moment of sheer brilliance (which would later turn out to be sheer madness), I explained to him that they were "underwear shorts."  What I meant was that they were underwear that looked like shorts.  His interpretation: they're underwear and shorts in one.  "Awesome," he's thinking in his tiny little mind, "now I only have to put one thing on in the morning because these count as underwear AND shorts."  So, to this day, I'm still fighting the battle of trying to get him to understand that he can't go to daycare in just boxer shorts.  "But, Momma, they're underwear shorts."  Sigh.

Image c/o www.sodahead.com

Tact:
The nice thing about my son is that he's pretty good at communicating what he's thinking.  The bad thing?  He has no tact.  He just opens his adorable little mouth and spits out  gems like, "Momma, why does that lady look like a boy?" or (to my friend), "YaYa, why is your house so messy?" or (even better) "Uncle Matt, I dropped a big poop in your toilet."  Sure, the rest of us might be thinking those things, but at some point we've learned that it's not "polite" to say them.  He clearly has not learned that lesson yet.  Coupled with this is the fact that he doesn't understand whispering.  Oh, he tries to whisper - cups his little hands around my ear, usually putting me in a head-lock at the same time - but it is not quiet.  So, when he whispers, "Momma, that boy is wearing pink.  Boys don't wear pink," in the grocery store, everyone hears it - including the man wearing the pink polo shirt.

No One Wants to Snuggle When You're Sweaty:
Now, let me clarify:  My son doesn't want to snuggle when he's sweaty, he wants to snuggle when I'm sweaty.  Here I am, fresh off the treadmill, drenched in sweat, every part of my body is sticky, I have sweat rolling off of my forehead and down my back, and I stink.  All I want to do is take a shower.  I like running, but I'm so sweaty, I'm even a little disgusted with myself.  What does my son want to do?  Crawl in my lap, have me carry him around, and give me a big hug.  He does not understand that no human being in their right mind would touch me with a ten-foot pole right now; I'm gross.  He is clearly oblivious to this fact. 

So, while my son might understand important things like, "Stop signs mean stop," and, "Green lights means go," he still has a lot to learn.