Before I Forget

Bryson is a funny guy. A pint-sized comedian, if you will. And the funniest thing about him is that he doesn't know he's being funny until you laugh. But when you do, he joins in like he's training for the giggle Olympics.

The other morning, when I was trying to "coat him" (Bryson's terminology for putting on his coat; also, a request to put his shoes on goes like this: "Shoe me!"), Bry had a truck in each hand. This is not an unusual occurrence. I asked him to please put down his trucks so I could put his coat on. His response? "It's okay mama; the dump truck is quite small." Not just small. Quite small. I laughed. He laughed. Hilarity ensued.

Yesterday morning, Bry was playing with his "animal hospital" (i.e., plastic box with lockable kennels that are proportioned such that one needs to forcefully shove the included stuffed animals in so they fit). He held up the stuffed kitten, shined a flashlight on it, and declared, "This kitty weighs 200,000 pounds!" Same routine with the dog: "This puppy weighs 300,000 pounds!" And finally the parrot: "This bird weighs 500,000 pounds!" With each subsequent animal, the volume of his voice increased, until he reached a fever pitch with "500,000 pounds!" Meanwhile, I'm stuck with the image of a 100-ton cat stalking down the street. "Hmm, that must be a really dense kitty," I respond. For now, my science humor is lost on him. I figure I might as well get him started early though, since he's going to be stuck with his parents' bizarre senses of humor for a long time.

And finally, this morning, on the way to school, Bry was sitting contentedly in his carseat, playing with trucks, per usual. He startled me when he shouted, distraught, "No! There's no wind in the car, excavator!" Bewildered, I asked for clarification. "There's no wind, excavator! You shouldn't turn like that!" came the response. Putting 2 and 2 together, I said, "You think wind makes the excavator's arm move, but there's no wind in the car, so why is the arm moving anyways?" "Yes!" Poor kid doesn't quite understand gravity yet, or, I suppose, Newton's first law of motion. He's continually frustrated when his trucks roll down inclines, or otherwise succumb to the force of gravity by falling, shifting, or moving. He put the truck there, so it should stay there. Simple as that. I suppose it would be mean to laugh out loud at this, so I do my best to stifle my giggles, so that I can attend to his distress with all due gravity. Pun intended. Gotta love the science humor.