Snow-Averse Peace

So, I had just finished feeding Timmy his morning breakfast (which these days involves putting him in the high chair and taking out the Cheerios box just to watch him give the wide smile and joyful giggle he reserves for his reunions with his Beloved Food, letting him viciously attack a handful or two, and then spooning applesauce into him while trying unsuccessfully to avoid a tug-of-spoon with his teeth at every mouthful) and was walking through the dining room to plop him down with some toys in the living room when I passed Alex and Dunc. They have been obsessed with the Lego City Fireboat I put together for them yesterday ever since, well, since I put it together for them yesterday, but also since Dunc finished breakfast this morning, and were both at the table with the thing.

As I passed the table, Alex said cheerfully, "Oh Mom! We are talking about peace!"

"Really?"

"Yes, peace!"

"Peace as in no fighting, or piece as in Lego piece?"

"Peace as in no fighting."

"Oh, well, that's great, Alex!" Maybe he was trying to come to terms with their mutual obsession and the necessary sharing that is naturally not coming naturally to them, and we'll have less squealing and shouting over the thing, or maybe some of that Christmas "Peace on Earth" terminology got through to him after all...

Alex turned back to Duncan and said, "OK, peace does not belong in snow. Got that?"

No, nothing he's said since has shed any light on his concept of snow-averse peace.

UPDATE:

This just out of the mouth of our star quotee, after the peace talks, Dunc put the walkie-talkie in a spot on the boat that Alex insists is not the right place for it and refused to follow Alex's directions to remove the communicator and return it to its rightful place, so finally Alex sputtered, "Take that out and don't put them in there anymore or you will never be seen again!"

Sounds peaceful, doesn't it? I don't understand, there isn't any snow or anything...

Alex's New Year

Alex is a hoot, when he isn't just absolutely grating--he's jumpy (half the time that's because he hasn't noticed that he has to go to the bathroom, and the other half he's just enthusiastic but looks like he has to go to the bathroom, so that every time he gets excited about something my first response is "Go to the bathroom" and if he tells me he doesn't have to go, *I* go, because his antsy jumping just demands that some bladder in the room respond) and he talks in a super-fast, demandingly repetitive tone which is adorable when he's enthusiastic (unless you're trying to actually think about anything-- thinking is hard when Alex is talking, and in fact thinking only makes talking to Alex harder) and just awful on the nerves when he's unhappy. And I've started explaining the details of as much as possible to him because it is quite clear, from what comes out of his mouth sometimes, that he is oblivious to most of what goes on in the world (THIS world, he'd say, as in "Mom, do the birds in this world fly over there?" "Mom, do people in this world wear gloves when it's cold?" As if we need to clearly differentiate this world and the creatures in it from all those other worlds I have no doubt are hiding in his head.)

So, New Year's Eve I was putting him and Duncan to bed, a drawn-out process as I wanted to keep them happy and distracted until Jake had gotten the older four out the door for the walk up the block to our old neighbor's house (not that our neighbors are old, it's that they were our neighbors at our old house, which is only a few blocks away) for their New Year's Eve party--and Jake getting out the door without my assistance and supervision is a drawn-out process in and of itself.

As I was helping Alex untangle his pajama and put them on, being very aware of Alex's haziness on all things concerning time, I repeated the cheerful "So it's New Year's Eve, that means this is the last night of 2007. Tomorrow it'll be two-thousand and....?"

He looked thoughtful, then said, "Eight?"

"Yup!"

"Aw, MAN! I don't want it to not be 2007 anymore!"

I was unaware of any emotional attachment to the year of our Lord two thousand and seven, so I was a bit taken aback. "You don't?"

"NO! I want it to still be 2007, I don't want it to be 2008!"

I was tempted to ask why not, but then realized that would only reinforce this concept and lead to a long and sad conversation, so I was inspired to use the always-useful concept of "Birthday."

"But listen, we already had your birthday in 2007, we already had Christmas and Halloween in 2007, all the fun stuff is over because there's only one of those each year."

"Only one? I only have one birthday in 2007?"

"Yes, but if it's 2008, you get another birthday, and another Christmas, and you even start kindergarten this year, and--"

I was abruptly stopped by a huge bear hug from this tiny, skinny little urchin (he's a master of unexpected hugs, topped only by Bot's sudden jumps onto people's backs to hug them, something we're trying to discourage since Bot is seven and bigger and can do serious damage to the old, infirm, and unprepared). "Oh, YES! That's RIGHT! I'm so HAPPY it's going to be 2008 and I will have another BIRTHday! That's so wonderful!"

"Well, good. Happy New Year, Alex!"

"Oh, yes, HAPPY NEW YEAR, Mom! Hey Duncan, I will have aNOTHER birthday in this new year!"

Duncan started jumping up and down in imitation of Alex, saying, "Haf nudder Thomas birfday party! Yay!" (Duncan doesn't care who's birthday it is as long as there are Thomas decorations involved--when I told him Christmas was Jesus' birthday he said, "We haf Thomas cake?") while Alex chattered on and on about what joys 2008 would bring, mostly involving birthday and Legos.

I left the room quickly while I was ahead...

UPDATE:

As an addendum to Alex's story, this very afternoon he and I met on the kitchen steps and he gave me a hug. Then he looked down at my belly and said, "Mom, is there a baby in your---wait. Um, is it 2008 yet?"

"Yes, it is. What's that about a baby?" I knew what was coming, but still, I wanted him to say it.

"Oh, it is, good. Then, oh, is there a baby growing in your tummy yet?"

"Uh, no."

"No? Not YET? Hmmm." And he thoughtfully rubbed my belly like it was hurt or broken and he was trying to make it better.