Some verbal anecdotes...
1) Eric and I were at Walmart when he found a toy he just had to have. I, on the other hand, was willing to help him survive without it, so I said no. We kept looking around the aisles and he kept holding on to the little action figure. It was on clearance, so I took him aside and told him that if he really wanted it, he was going to have to buy it with his own money. I discussed the pros and cons, save-now-buy-later option, etc. But he understood and was serious (and excited) about buying it himself.
As soon as we got home, he ran to his room to get his piggy bank (in the shape of a football helmet). He just started handing me any random coin he saw and then sat back and said, "There you go, Mom. Now you can buy a new shirt, or pants, or bra, or those [pads] you put in your underwear -- all with your own money!"
I about died.
*Please note: due to a lowered amount of privacy a woman once encounters when she becomes a mother, my son discovered the pantiliners under the counter while I was in the bathroom. I asked if he could do me a "big" favor and hand me one. Apparently, it stuck with him more than I thought.
2) We were riding in the car when suddenly Eric says, "I can spell 'seatbelt'! See? Watch! 'P' 'U' 'S' 'H'. Seeeeatbeeeeelt {said very drawn out and slowly}." I was laughing so hard and I almost didn't want to correct him because I could understand why he thought it said "seatbelt". He was looking at the straps and buttons on his carseat. Right next to the release button, it says "PUSH". It made sense to him! Everything in the books he's read has been labeled with it's own name, why wouldn't his carseat?
3) Eric came to me and stuck out his wrist. "See? I got a scratch." I asked him what happened and was told that he scratched it on his toy box (or one of the toys in it). He asked if he could have a band-aid. After examining it closely, for good measure, the prognosis was no band-aid needed. He would make a full recovery. I gave it a kiss and expected him to run along and play. Instead, he looked up and me and said, "Kisses don't help."
And all this time, I thought I had a set of miracle-workers on the front of my face. {sigh}
