James and (some of) His Quirks

James at 2 1/2 is hysterical.  He makes us laugh multiple times daily.  He is highly observant, strong-willed, extremely determined, and exceptionally verbal, so you can imagine some of the funny things he says.  (But don't worry, I'm going to drone on for a while anyway.)

James right now is very interested in justice.  For instance, he keeps track of how many turns people have, and how many turns he has had, and how many more turns he deserves in order to be equal.  I constantly hear, "But Ashley got to do such-and-such," or "Then why did William get another turn?"

If James understands the reason for a rule, or at least is resigned to it being non-negotiable (James resigning without a fight to anything he doesn't feel is important is a rare occurrence), he follows it to the end.  He hasn't had a door to his bedroom for the past three weeks and has generally done just fine staying in his bed.  

But if he does not agree with something he is made to do, he sure lets everyone know.  Just after he turned two, James decided he was old enough to walk through the grocery stores.  I decided that he is not old enough.  Despite my reminding him in very age-appropriate ways before entering any store that he could not walk by himself, James would spend the entire time in the store crying loudly in the cart due to the injustice of it all.  I patted him gently and tried to speak soothingly to him and we gathered all of our groceries amidst the yelling.  Many friendly people gave me encouraging looks and occasionally said things like, "Oh, it's ok, I have bad days too."  What I didn't say in return is that I am so used to that noise I was tuning it out completely.  (Some people probably gave me dirty looks, but I must have tuned them out too.  It's a gift, what can I say?)

James is always interested in how things work.  He knows names of obscure dinosaurs, uses words like "sea creatures" and has taught himself the entire alphabet song even though I'm an awesome mother and never sing it.  There is a lot going on in that little head of his and we all love seeing the bits and pieces that come tumbling out.

It isn't all sunshine and daisies, though--tucking James into bed has been an adventure.  I have to use reverse psychology, and I have had to for almost a year.  If I ask, "what song do you want me to sing?"  James will insist he wants no song.  If I try to put his blanket on him, James will shove it away.  But I have to bring it up or I will never get out of there.  So this is what the exchange usually looks like:

"James, what song would you like?"

"I don't want a song!"

"You mean, no thank you."  

(Silence.)

"It's ok.  I don't have to sing you a song.  I can  just go back downstairs.  Goodnight."

"No!  I want you to sing me a song!"

"Oh, well then which one would you like?"

James grumblingly tells me a song, I sing it, and he goes to sleep.  He usually sleeps all night with no problem, then wakes and demands breakfast.  He is not too big on dinner so the low blood sugar and hunger pangs make for some very bipolar mornings with that child.  

He wants cereal, but he doesn't know what kind, and he doesn't want to decide.  But if someone tries to choose for him, the answer to any choice is always No.  He doesn't want to be held but he also doesn't want to sit by himself.  He doesn't want to pick a cup to drink out of, but he doesn't want anyone else to choose, either.  What usually ends up happening is that we choose some things for him while he is collapsed pathetically on the floor (crying into his Moose, of course), and tell him gently that when he is ready, he can eat what is on the table for him.  If he wants to choose something else, he is more than welcome to, since he can reach all the necessary things himself.  And, if he decides to ask nicely for help, we will help him.

After a few minutes of being upset, James usually comes around and shows his sweet side once again.

James had his first nightmare just after his second birthday, at least as far as he has reported to us.

He woke up in the middle of the night one night and was very upset when I tried to leave his room.  This is uncharacteristic of him so I knew something was wrong.  I held him and rocked him and sang some songs with him, then finally I asked gently, "James, are you scared?"
"Yeah," James replied in a sad voice that broke my heart.  I asked him what he was scared of, and he told me, "My room."
"What are you scared of in your room?"
"I'm scared of the dark in my room."
"Is there something in the dark that scares you?"
"A Monster."  So we looked in his closet and under his bed and around the room and he was happy to see that there was no monster.  He went to sleep and I didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.

The next day he was filled with tales of the Monster in his room, so I gave him a word for what happened to him the previous night:  A dream.  How do you explain the concept of a dream to someone who just turned two, and who feels his experience was as real as any awake experience?  I don't know.  But I do know that James seemed consoled when I explained that he had a dream while he was sleeping, and that dreams are just pretend.

James had more details for me once he was away from the dark night.

"I unlocked the door and there was a monster," he said.
"There was?"
"The monster had mean eyes."
"What did the monster do?"
"He tried to eat me and he tried to eat my Moosie."
"Where did he go?"
"In my closet."

For several weeks after this incident, James told anyone who would listen that there are no monsters, and that monsters are only pretend.  But I think he still wondered and repeated it often to remind himself.

At just-barely-two, James was definitely our most verbal child.  He was even praying on his own-- coming up with the thoughts and expressing them appropriately and everything.  His prayers mostly consisted of a blessing on the food (usually each thing specifically), and a blessing on everyone present.  He loved to squint around the table with one eye open, arms still folded piously, to make sure he didn't forget anyone.

He still prays like that.  It makes me smile every time.


James also has a strongly-developed sense of logic and reason.

One day James was riding his scooter in the street.  I reminded him that he is to stay out of the street.  "But Mommy," he said, "If a car comes behind me, I will just move out of the way and it won't hit me!"

James was about to leave his scooter in the driveway and I reminded him to put it in the garage.  Knowing what I was getting at, James answered "If I put it on the grass, it won't roll away.  See?"  James's solution worked for both of us.

James has a remarkable memory for what I ask him to do--one day I took him to the store with the other kids and he spent the majority of the time making a huge ruckus and running away from me.  He did this while knowing it was against the rules and despite my reminders.  So when we went back to the car, I explained what rules he had broken and that I was going to hold Lightning McQueen and Mater up in the front in time-out.  He could have them back when we got home.  I also told James that because he did not listen to what I was asking of him, he needed to tell me sorry when we got home.

I drove home and as soon as I opened the door on his side James said, "Sorry Mommy," as sweet as can be, with no reminders!

Another day, James found a stash of gum Joel had in the bathroom.  He finished it off.  When I discovered what he had done, I reminded him that it was not his gum.  "It's papa's gum, and you should have asked him first.  When he gets home, you need to tell him you ate his gum."  James was not worried.  "Papa won't be mean, he will be nice!"  As soon as Joel walked in the door several hours later, James came bounding up to him and said, "I ate your gum, Papa.  Sorry!"

When James was barely two years old, he became fascinated with everyone's ages.  He had everyone memorized, even Joel and me.  When my family came to visit for Christmas, he wondered about their ages as well.  As far as I remember, he thought Grandma was eight.  But my adult brother, who is severely mentally and physically handicapped, was cause for confusion.  James studied him for a long time and finally asked, "How old is Nick?  Nick isn't three. . ."  James knew his uncle Nick was a grown-up, but he also understood that that wasn't the whole story.

James decided two weeks ago that he has turned three, and no one can talk him out of it.  (I think he decided this solely because he thinks he can have more to eat based on his age.)  We had friends over recently, one of which was a little girl who just turned three.  Despite this fact, James was convinced that he is older than her.
"(Girl) is little.  She is a little girl."
"James, she is a big girl just like you are a big boy."
"No she's not!  She is a little girl!"  James was calm and congenial but insistent, so round and round we went.  James is physically taller and bigger, so maybe that is what led him to that conclusion.


One interesting thing about James is that he hates to look foolish.  Occasionally one of the neighbor kids will say that James is stinky (my kids have seen enough blow-ups from James to not bother messing with that).  James seems to feel pretty humiliated and gets very upset when people say things like that about him.

But when James feels he has been wronged, no one can cheer him up before he is ready.  If we do something he actually does think is funny, he refuses to let himself smile.  The best we'll get out of him is a trembly, slightly-upturned corner of a mouth.  But as soon as that happens, James turns himself away so we can't see even that.



James really missed Joel this summer when the rest of us were in Utah for two weeks without him.  When Joel finally arrived, James was over the moon.  He did not want anything to do with any of the rest of us.  I was just happy to have a break from diaper changes.  We tried to take family pictures the next day, and James refused to sit by me.  Joel attempted to take a picture of me surrounded by all of my children (who would be gazing adoringly at me, of course), but James would have none of it.  He refused to sit anywhere close to the rest of us.   Instead, he harumphed onto the grass and wouldn't look at any of us.

When we got back into town, I drove somewhere with all the kids and on the way home, they decided who was who's buddy.  James wasn't phased by any of it.  "I'm not your buddy," he'd tell anyone who listened.  "I'm Papa's buddy."  So it has been to my great entertainment that James is still set on this fact almost a month later.  "I'm so glad I am your buddy, Papa,"  I'll say to Joel in front of James.  "No, you are not Papa's buddy.  I am Papa's buddy."  No matter how many times I try that jab, James patiently explains the facts.

And James is still sporting the birthmark on his nose.  He must have overheard me talking about it with someone, because one day he took me in front of the mirror to show me his "bird-mark."  I corrected him and told him it was actually called a birthmark, but he would have none of it.  So it is his birdmark, and it is here to stay.

But that is ok, because it goes perfectly with his "stomach-egg," his goose-eggs, and his favorite saying as of late:  "Firefighter, pants on fire!"  which must make way more sense to a two-year-old than the old, boring Liar, liar version.