Today, my mom watched the wee ones for me for a bit while I ran out to get some stuff done that badly needed doing — like getting my stitches removed — without trying to wrangle the wee ones. Small children and surgical instruments just don’t mix.
When I returned, I had run a bunch of errands, including picking up more vitamins for Mister Man (Little Miss has her own vitamins that are dairy free — seriously, who ever would have dreamed that even vitamins have dairy in them?). Mister Man gets two kinds of vitamins. We give him the normal kid all around vitamin, and he also takes flavored cod liver oil, which is supposed to help a lot of things from brain development to sensory regulation and more.
When I first gave the cod liver oil to him, I didn’t want to call out anything wrong to him or make him feel different from Little Miss, so I called them “brain pills” figuring that a) it was partly true and b) that he’d feel special in a good way rather than singled out. The brain pills moniker has stuck.
Needless to say, this played into both cute moments with Mister Man today.
Mister Man is a reader. And he has a fantastic memory. Once you read a book to him, he’s pretty much got it down pat, so don’t go trying to skip any words or otherwise cheat. Or … in my mom’s case, don’t mispronounce a word. He’ll catch it. And very seriously, he’ll turn to you and say, “Grandma, would you like me to get you some of my brain pills? I’ll share them with you because it seems like you need them.”
Yeah. That’s my son — always thinking of others. My poor mom couldn’t keep a straight face to even attempt to answer him.
Mister Man was at preschool when I arrived home with everything, so I put away the groceries, restocked my Band-Aid supply (for the cut still), and put the vitamins on the counter with the current supply.
Shockingly, Mister I-Don’t-Miss-A-Trick walked into the house after he got off the bus and stopped to get a drink before we ran out to the chiro. Walking by the counter, he of course saw the new vitamins.
He carefully picked them up and shook the bottles to verify that yes, in fact the bottles were filled to the brim and I had purchased new vitamins rather than just putting random vitamin bottles on the counter to mess with him (ok, that’s my own personal interpretation… but he really did pick them up and shake them).
I got a very soulful look from mister Man before he broke out into a joyous grin. “Mommy,” he decleared oh so earnestly, “you’re wonderful! Thank you so much for buying me my new vitamins. I was going to run out this week, you know. You’re amazing.”
Really. How can you not love the boy? I got amazing and wonderful in one breath from him. It really takes that little to please him. And I’m going to hold onto this little bit of happiness the next time he has a meltdown because he got too hungry or too tired.
And as a side note, he actually did know that was going to run out of vitamins this week. On Saturday, he’d poured out the brain pills, counted them and then determined that if he takes two pills a day (which he does), that on Thursday of this week they’d be all gone. And he counted his remaining basic vitamins and realized that he’d run out the same day and have just a half a vitamin left for Friday (a remnant from before we realized Little Miss had a dairy allergy and she had the same vitamins but just a half instead of the whole one). Needless to say, he found this very disturbing. That’s my little planner.
I know this age of cuteness is going to pass and the days of them saying nice things will quickly turn into attitude and doors slamming, but I’m hoping the wee ones give me enough of this little gems that I can store up the warm and fuzzies to get myself through the pre-teen and teen years. Wish me luck!