On Monday morning, before I’d finished my first cup of coffee, my three year old ran in with an armful of stuffed animals and informed me the family dog had given birth to three puppies, a bunny rabbit, and a monkey.
He doesn’t seem to grasp biology just yet, because later he said, “When I was a bird, I was so cute!”
He didn’t grow from a bird, but he is growing, and he wants to eat almost all the time to support that growth. His second breakfast that morning was about half a cup of Greek peach yogurt. He ate about half of it and then said he was full. Half an hour later, he was back in the kitchen.
“Mommy, can I have some candy? I’m really hungry.”
“You can have the rest of your yogurt,” I said.
“I was talking to Mom!” he scolded me, firmly.
“No, but you can eat the rest of your yogurt,” Mommy answered.
“No! I’m really full!”
Then, when Mommy went to take the dog who really gets around for a walk, both of the boys asked if they could go with her. She said she couldn’t handle two boys and a dog walking on a busy road.
“We could take the car!” he suggested with 110-mile-an-hour enthusiasm.
Whether he wanted all of us to pile in the car and go for a drive–which kind of defeats the purpose of talking a walk–or whether he intended to go for a spin alternating with his slightly older brother behind the wheel, I don’t think I want to know.
Speaking of walks, at night, his favorite book to read before bedtime is Biscuit Takes a Walk. Biscuit is a puppy. Biscuit has numerous lines in the book, which we let him say. But he doesn’t follow the script very closely. When Biscuit is supposed to say woof, instead, he occasionally makes Biscuit oink, quack, and meow. But mostly he makes Biscuit belch and fart, and, just in case we don’t know what a belch or a fart sounds like, he announces it loudly enough that the neighbors probably hear sometimes.
The neighbors might wonder about us, but I doubt it. Once upon a time, they all had three-year-old boys themselves.
David Farquhar is a computer security professional, entrepreneur, and author. He started his career as a part-time computer technician in 1994, worked his way up to system administrator by 1997, and has specialized in vulnerability management since 2013. He invests in real estate on the side and his hobbies include O gauge trains, baseball cards, and retro computers and video games. A University of Missouri graduate, he holds CISSP and Security+ certifications. He lives in St. Louis with his family.
8 thoughts on “St*ff my three year old says”
Karma is a stone cold bit**.
Betcha’ Mom will have a comment shortly.
It wasn’t all that many years ago that another three-almost-four-year-old came up with some gems. David had mighty career aspirations from early on. First he wanted to be a “garbage dump truck man.” That stems from his fascination with garbage trucks going back to when he was in preschool. Later on he wanted to be a “door man”. Not sure if he wanted to make doors or open doors–and he could never quite figure it out, either. By the time he was four, David wanted to be a weatherman when he grew up. (Someone ask him why.) I could write a book about profound statements made by David before he ever started school.
Dave, why did you want to be a weatherman when you grew up?
All I can remember is that the TV station we watched had a meteorologist by the name of Dave Dusik and I wanted to be like him.
There was this unfortunate incident where I wanted to draw a weather map, and the only piece of paper I could find was a piece of facial tissue, and of course the only thing I could find to draw with was a marker. So I taped it on the wall, drew my weather map, and let’s just say I accidentally left a second copy of my map on the wall. Mom found that later. That’s probably why she remembers the weatherman thing.
That incident prompted me to cover one wall of your bedroom with corkboard and I was much more careful about keeping a stack of typing paper in your room. I was amazed at the details on the weather maps you drew as a 3-4 year old. But there’s WAY more to it than that, son. Other little boys played “Superman.” I had to draw that symbol changing the “S” to a “D” onto a tee-shirt for you and you were “Dave Dusik: Weatherman”. (Complete with cape which–if I remember right–was a red apron you tied around your neck.) You would stand up straight to say “Dave Dusik” then put one leg out in front of the other, stretch your arms out and almost sing “Weatherman”. It was too funny! But you told me you wanted to be a weatherman because you wanted a job where you would never have to be right. Your reasoning: When your prediction is right, everyone says, “Wow, he’s really smart.” When your prediction is wrong, you hear, “EVERYONE knows you can’t predict the weather.”
I don’t remember much of that, though I do remember the corkboard. I also remember having trouble drawing the United States because it was asymmetrical. I’d draw the east coast, then it was hard to not make the west coast look like the east coast. I’m not sure why that was hard, but when you’re four, most things are.
Parents can have a different view of “fun” and “useful” than young children have.
I’m sure all has been forgiven.
Maybe I just don’t remember correctly but I don’t think I was all that upset about the map on the wall.
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