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he thinks he knows so much

monday morning was yet another day of debates…about clothes. it always trips me out that such a young kid has so many opinions about what to wear to school. we finally got the outfit down, but then it was time to grab a jacket. dutch goes into his closet and grabs a long-sleeved, hooded t-shirt with a pocket in the front. here’s how our conversation unfolded:

mama: dutch, that is not a jacket. it’s a shirt.

dutch: it’s not a shirt, it’s a jacket.

mama: dutch, it’s not a jacket, it’s a t-shirt. see, come feel the weight of this verses your real jacket.

dutch: [touches the shirt again and still isn’t convinced.] mom, it’s a jacket.

and the conversation seriously went on and on like this, even after he grabbed a real jacket and we headed out to the car. we literally went back and forth like this 10,000 times. it’s a jacket! it’s a shirt!!

my mama thinks i’m crazy for debating such trivial things with a 7-year-old, but it just drives me nuts that this kid thinks he knows more than me. so i told him…

mama: you know, it drives me nuts that you think you know more than me. i mean, really, you think you know everything! drives. me. nuts.

[mama turns the radio up ’cause she wants to think of something else besides long-sleeved, t-shirts and jackets, and know-it-all little 7-year-old boys.]

[dutch pauses in thought.]

dutch: i know what metacognition means and you don’t.


[mama, turns down the radio ’cause she didn’t quite hear the entire word dutch said, but she assumes she knows and says…]

mama: the word is recognition.

dutch: no, it’s metacognition.

[mama thinks, meta-what?!?!]

mama: well, what does metacognition mean, dutch? [you know, since you’re so freakin’ smart, little kid!!]

dutch: it means, thinking about thinking.

mama: well, i’m thinking about thinking about bopping you upside yo’ head, how about that? [’cause dangit, mama couldn’t think of nothin’ else to say!]

i should’ve told him that since he’s so smart to use metacognition in a sentence, or better yet, spell it. and i probably would’ve said both those things if i wasn’t thinking so hard about googling this “metacognition” word.

and i did.

and he was right.

his addiction

i can’t really remember the first time we gave dutch a popsicle, but I’m pretty sure things really picked up when he spent the weekend with his lolo and nana this past july. we went to pick him up that sunday and they announced, “he ate about 7 popsicles yesterday!!”


and no, dutch’s dear grandparents didn’t just sit there and offer him popsicles every 5 to 10 minutes (which was my first guess). my little guy was quite sneaky about it. he loves ice so he’d ask for ice and once his nana opened the freezer to get out the ice, he’d grab a popsicle. not ones to say no, his lolo and nana gave dutch all the popsicles his little heart desired.

and i believe, that’s how it all started.

now we must keep popsicles in the house. we must. if there are no popsicles then there is total chaos complete with yelling, whining, crying and tantrums.

these can’t just be any ol’ run of the mill popsicle, i must add, these popsicles have to be a particular color. oh yeah, my boy is prejudice when it comes to his popsicles.

my husband had the audacity to go out and buy a box of popsicles that were purple, YELLOW [gasp!!!!], and GREEN [oh, the horror!!!]. when dutch saw those green and yellow popsicles you would’ve thought that his world had ended. that elmo had died. that calliou had been canned. that dump trucks ceased to exist. GREEN and YELLOW, PEOPLE!! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!

dutch doesn’t know his colors yet, but he sure knew he didn’t want a green or yellow popsicle. excuse me, “papu…” as soon as i pulled one out of the box and tore the wrapper off all i heard was, “nooooooooooooooooooo mommy, no papu!!!”

papu = popsicles

and then he went on to beg wildly….

“peas papu, mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy… daddy, peasssssssssssssssss!!!”

peas = please

and we get this all day, every day

when he first wakes up, “peas papu, mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy… daddy, peasssssssssssssssss!!!!!”

of course we don’t give in to breakfast papus, that would just be insane. but there has been a saturday or two when he’s had one awfully early.

and it’s not always in a begging, whiny, annoying voice. sometimes it’s a cheery, bright sunshiny voice like, “papu, mommy?!” complete with the most gorgeous smile you ever want to see. And sometimes it even comes with a “I luh you, momma…”

luh = love

momma = mommy when he really, really wants something and wants to sound cute about it.

oh yeah, he knows how to work it.

as soon as i pick him up from daycare it’s the same thing every day, “peas papu, mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…” i’ve tried to explain to him at least a hundred times that my honda accord did not come equipped with a freezer in which to store papus.

he doesn’t get it, nor does he care to get it.

sunday i went to the grocery store and i was on a seriously tight, tight budget. i mean, so tight i wasn’t sure i could fit in a box of 24 popsicles.

hmmmmmmmmmmmm… 24 of our usual brand of popsicles for $3.95 or 24 of X brand of popsicles 2 for $3.00. do the math. that’s $1.50, people. i went with the latter. i figured they were his usual favorite colors – red, orange and purple – so what’s there to be mad about, right? and guess what, he didn’t know the difference.

he has, however, been a bit upset lately that his father has laid down the law and set up “papu restrictions”. he can now only eat them between the hours of 10 a.m. and 8 p.m. i wonder how many he can fit in during that time?