Faux Pas Galore

Now that Riley's English is intelligible to most discerning humans, we've been in for some awkward moments lately. I guess that all comes with the territory of having a kid with a mouth though, doesn't it?

I, for one, vividly remember telling my entire third grade class during show and tell that my family was traveling to Colorado for Christmas to spend the week in a condom. Condo, condom; one tiny letter, so much difference.

Riley's social faux pas are only worsened by the fact that he never says anything within the normal human decibel range. Pretty much everything is uttered ten times louder than it needs to be, unless of course on the rare occasion that all of the pre-existing loudness has forced him into a hoarse whisper.

Anyway, here are some fun situations we've dealt with lately.

Scenario #1: In church, listening to a great talk from a man who was, shall we say, folically challenged.
Riley: MOMMY WHAT HAPPENED TO DAT MANS HAIR????
Me: Sssshhhhhhhhh.
I might have just imagined it, but I'm pretty sure the speaker paused at this point and totally lost his train of thought because he heard us.
Riley: BUT MOMMY, WHY IS DAT MAN"S HAIR ALL GONE?

Scenario #2: At Sea World, passing by a boy who had an obvious birth mark.
Riley: MOMMY, WHATSA MATTER WITH DAT BOY'S FACE?

Scenario #3: At our neighbor's house for dinner. These are the same neighbors who have a small house and three big indoor dogs.
Riley: MOMMY, DADDY, WHATS DAT SMELL.
SAM: It's a candle bub. A cinnamon candle. It smells yummy.
Riley: Sniffs loudly. NO, NOT A CANDLE. SMELLS YUCKY, LIKE DIRTY PUPPIES.

Sam and I coped by abruptly changing the subject and hoping our neighbors who were sitting five feet away from us somehow did not hear that remark.

And this is why my head hurts.

Growing Pains

The signs that Riley is growing up are coming fast and feriously lately.

Like this morning, when I tried to walk into his bedroom and I heard, "No mommy, don't come in here 'til I done changing." At least he walked out of his room wearing a purple windbreaker pants and his shirt inside out with the tag sticking up under his chin. If he would have paraded out in a perfectly coordinated ensemble, I may have just started crying (I'm hormonal like that these days.)

Then, there was the day when I was out in the front yard weeding and Riley waltzed out, handed me the phone and said, "Tata's (grandpa) on the phone for you." And he really was. I didn't even know Riley knew how to answer the phone, though I guess it's time to stop underestimating him.

And, at three-years-old, he's already telling me exactly how he wants his hair combed: "NO mommy, not dat way. I want it stickin straight up in the air like daddy's." Which, on a side note, is easy enough to do these days now that Riley is sporting a new and much shorter do. And why, you may ask, is he sporting a new and shorter do? Sam and I were refinishing a desk and Riley wanted to help. So we gave him his own little board to paint with and all was well until we heard, "Yook mommy. I cowored my hair."

Let me give you another glance to make sure you caught the full effect.


Anyway, enough digression. Let me get back to the point of this post. Give me just a second to remember what it was. Oh, yeah. With a new baby almost here and Riley well on his way to mini-adulthood, I've been fretting. I'm just not sure how I'm going to handle the fact that while Riley will always be my baby, he just isn't a baby anymore. And that fact will be glaringly obvious once the new 7 or 8 pound something ounces McMurry makes his way into the world.

So any of you out there with wise advice to help me handle this transition, I want to hear it now. How did you handle changing the status of your first born from one-and-only baby to big brother?