Having a child who is creative, brilliant, imaginative and fearless- but who also doesn't speak makes you walk around with a confused expression on your face for most of your life. My eyebrows seem to be permanently drawn together, my eyes are squinted and my mouth is always slightly open. It's the exact same face I have when I'm trying to do a math problem in my head. Mitch is the x in every equation and no matter how much scratch paper I'm given, I can never figure him out. In fact, if he ever turns to a life of crime, I'm going to suggest the villain name of Variable. At least three times a day I end up asking him what he's doing, or I mutter to no one in particular that I just don't know what is going on in that head of his.
Our green bathroom has two doors leading into it from different rooms, which seems to cause Mitch some confusion at times. Yesterday the boys seemed absorbed in what they were doing so I didn't bother to lock the door behind me as I entered that bathroom. However, the gentle latching of the door must have sounded like a gunshot to Mitch, who ran across the house to throw the door wide in order to observe. "Mitch! Close the door. Mommy is going potty right now. Give me 30 seconds alone, please." He did shut the door, bless him, but he immediately ran around through his room and opened the opposite door instead. He honestly seemed surprised to see me there, like maybe he thought we had two green bathrooms? Or maybe one door opened into the same bathroom just different dimensions, one in which it wasn't in use? I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror as I was washing my hands and I had my higher math expression on again.
Yesterday he came to me with his underwear pulled up, but his pants around his ankles and carrying my hairbrush. Where are we in the scenario? Are we in the process of going potty and he only got the first layer on before he was distracted by the need to comb Mommy's hair? Or was it the simple need for more corporal punishment in his life?
An alarm went off in a parked car in front of our house this morning and Mitch went nuts with needing to go out on the porch. It was rather cold and windy out there, so I made an effort in trying to distract him at first, but the longer it went on the more disturbed he got. I eventually shrugged and opened the door to have him run past me in a desperate blur. He raised his fists in the air like he was at the baddest rock concert in the world and started jumping up and down in time to the honking. When the alarm's beat changed to the siren wail he started wiggling his skinny rear end back and forth and up and down, like a toddler version of pop, drop and lock it. As soon as our neighbor turned off the alarm, Mitch pumped a fist, yelled "Yeah!" and went running back into the house. Was that a personal rock concert delivered straight to his house?
During the Veteran's Day Parade he was both adorable and frustrating at the same time. He was running out into the street when there wasn't candy then refused to go out when there was. If he DID go out to pick some up he'd only grab one, then raise the fructose sacrifice high with both hands in thanks to the parade gods. After the ceremonial tribute he would meander back my way to put the candy in the stroller before running/jumping a lap around us and back out into the street. He almost got hit by a shriner car once, and almost caused a pile up of the tiny cars another time. Thankfully the brakes were good and the old guy driving almost went over the windshield in stopping it. Trying to keep track of Mitch in a public venue is obviously exhausting physically, but it's also draining emotionally because you can't outsmart a vortex. Maybe that should be his villain name; Variable Vortex. It's catchy and frightening all at the same time. Just like my little angel.
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