Before we flew to Denver earlier this summer, I wanted to teach Sawyer my name. I wasn’t sure if he’d remember it or say it in a way that anyone could understand. He will tell people his name is Sawyer if they ask, but with his Southern twang and a somewhat unusual name, most don’t know what he’s saying. But just on the highly unlikely chance that he got lost or got away from me, I hoped he could tell someone my name.
One night in the car, we were playing the name game when his answer amused me.
“What’s your name?” Sawyer
“What’s my name?” Jennifer
“What’s Hank’s name?” (our black Labrador) … “Bad dog.”
Sawyer loves planes and helicopters (which have gone from heli-hockers to heli-cockers) since our trip to the airport. One day we say a helicopter flying overhead. Here’s what was said:
Sawyer: A helihocker!
Me: Maybe he’s going to the airport
Sawyer: No, he’s going to the library.
Me: Why is he going to the library?
Sawyer (in a very DUH! tone): To read some books.
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A month or so ago, I decided to take a go at an intensive potty-training weekend. We had nowhere to go for several days and I planned to stay home and ask him to go potty every 15 or 20 minutes … on the recommendation of several other mothers and mom blogs. One friend did this and bought her son a “potty watch.” It’s a kid-sized watch shaped like a toilet and you can set the alarm to go off every 30 minutes, upon which it plays a variety of nursery songs.
I hyped the watch for several days and then we went to Babies R Us to buy it. Sawyer was very excited.
We don’t go to Babies R Us very often; I probably haven’t been since Sawyer could walk. But ended up having to return something about two weeks after buying the watch.
We pulled into the parking lot and Sawyer noticed where we were and asked, “Are we going to visit my watch?”
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Sawyer has been earning trips to time-out more frequently, though I’m not really sure it’s working that well.
Every so often, without doing anything wrong, he’ll say, “I need to go sit in time-out.”
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Sawyer enjoys having his feet tickled and tickling others’ “feets.”
Sometimes, we do “This little piggy” on his toes.
When Sawyer says it, he tells a different version: “This little piggy went to Margret.” (Margaret is a friend of mine who often goes places with Sawyer and me.)
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Riding in the car recently, Sawyer was getting antsy and wanted out of his seat. I was trying to distract him. So I suggested we play a game and he said OK.
I started asking him questions.
What’s something that gets muddy?
His answer: Me
What’s something small?
A car. A house.
What’s really small?
A mouse. A bug.
What’s something that smells good?
Flowers
What’s something crunchy?
Peanut butter sandwich. Apple
What’s something hot?
A dog
I was just about to correct/question him on that last one until my brain put it together the way he did. In his world, hot and dog go together a lot!
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It was very quiet in the living room the other day, which made me suspicious. I went out to find Sawyer playing in the living room and I asked him to come over to me. As soon as he did I got a whiff of mint and I spied a tube of Chapstick on the table. When I looked at it, what had been a whole tube was nearly empty.
“Sawyer, did you eat this?”
“No. I put it on my yips!” (Ls are replaced with Ys at our house!)
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Mama: Who has gum?
Sawyer: I does. And you does. And Daddy does.
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While driving through town, out of the blue, Sawyer said, “Mama, butterflies can talk.”
I said, “Really? How do they talk?”
No answer came from the back seat until I turned around and Sawyer was flapping his arms.
“They flap their wings?” I asked.
“Yeeeeeessssss!”
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We went shopping for a birthday gift downtown last week and we were walking past some of Greensboro’s tallest buildings.
I said, “Sawyer look at all these big buildings.”
He looked up and looked around and said, “I love big buildings.”
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Lately, when Sawyer is unhappy about something (which seems to be a lot), he’ll say, “I don’t want to go home. I want to go to the other house.”
After a few times, I asked him, “What other house?” I was guessing maybe he meant Grandmother’s house.
But no. “Our other house at the beach.”
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And the big one …
Sawyer spent the weekend with Grandmother a month or so ago, and when we came to pick him up, she said, “Tell them your surprise!”
Ray and I raised eyebrows to one another, and Sawyer pretty much kept playing.
“Tell them what we’ve been practicing,” Grandmother said, whispering something in Sawyer’s ear.
He grinned and shouted (at least what sounded to us like), “PUSSY!”
Not a word that that we expected to hear after a weekend at Grandmother’s house.
Ray and I looked at each other, both clearly stunned and racking our brains for what he could be trying to say.
Say it again with an “errrrr” sound, said Grandmother, who’s a retired speech therapist and was about to die laughing.
Sawyer looked at her and then us and said, “Perrrrrrrcy,” (one of Thomas the Tank Engine’s friends)
We were relieved to hear what he’d been working on was not the the first word that came out of his sweet little mouth. She was teaching him to say Percy with a P instead of Hercy, like he usually said.
And we’ve been practicing keeping that R in there.
Those are funny! Especially that last one....I have a cousin who's grandson I help babysit sometimes (he's almost 3) and he also calls him "Pussy". Too funny!
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