liam's memory is amazing. well, partly amazing. he can remember the most specific details of things that happened years ago, but for some strange reason, has a hard time remembering what we've asked him to do to get ready for bed. (we'll find him sprawled on his bed, poring over some sports book, after we've clearly told him that he needed to put on his pajamas and brush his teeth. "oh!" he'll look up at us with shock. "i forgot!")
but in every other area, his mind is like a steel trap. take yesterday, for example. i was putting on make-up and he happened to be with me, chomping at the bit to leave so we could go to a friend's house. to occupy him, i asked him if he had gotten the chance to read the shel silverstein book that i'd checked out for him at the library. he confirmed that he had. "what's it about?" i asked him.
he began to tell me the plot and the characters. and this is where i confess of (yet another) bad habit i have as a mom: i don't always listen to every single word that comes out of my children's mouths. they tend to wax poetic a bit in their recounting of events, and i will -- from time to time -- space out a bit. i'm pretty adept at inserting, "hmm"s and "i see"s at the appropriate times, so that they really have no idea that i'm not giving them my undivided attention. i get the gist, which is really all that matters, right?
i know i must be the only parent in the world who does this, so give me some credit for being honest.
anyway, i was finishing up my mascara when liam began winding down the synopsis of the missing piece meets the big O. but it wasn't until he uttered the last statement that i realized just how detailed he had been.
"... and then there were three blank pages at the end," he said.
so riddle me this, batman: just why, after five times of asking, can't the boy remember to put on his socks?
No comments:
Post a Comment