Brodyisms

Sometimes when Brody is playing outside, sometimes even when he is in the car, he will lift his arm up, look up at the heavens, and proudly say "sky."

And then I look, and sure enough, we're both looking at the sky for a few moments. I say "You're right, sweetie, that's the sky."

He smiles proudly at me. I give him a kiss.

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Tonight I had to explain to Brody the difference between a button and butt. It's more difficult than you would think.

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I realized tonight, reading Goodnight Moon and Dinosaur Roar! that I still read the words on the page. Not just say them, but actually read them. It strikes me as ridiculous. I mean, there really is no room for interpreting the story with these books. Goodnight nobody, goodnight mush. The pictures are the only thing on the page - at one point a picture of . . . nothing. The page is blank (Goodnight nobody). So I stopped reading and just looked at the pictures with Brody while I told him the story. It was much more enjoyable.

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Nearing his second birthday, Brody is sometimes. . . well. . . willful. And sometimes when he doesn't get his way, he has tantrums. Shocking. And tonight, while he was on my lap during one of those tantrums, my person got in the way of his flailing hand, and he hit me.

Brody looked so shocked and horrified that I didn't have the heart to give him a time out. I did stifle laughter.

I said quite sternly, "You hit mommy, Brody. That's not nice." (He yells "not nice!" to the dogs when they lick him or knock him over. 'Not nice' is like a swear word to him - it's the worst condemnation he can utter at this point).

He was silent and looked away.

"Are you sorry?"

Silence.

"Brody, look at mommy." He does. "You hurt mommy. Hitting is not nice."

I swear he nodded, but that may have been my imagination. We returned to watching the dogs play. Then we cuddled.

I feel more guilty than he does, obviously.