“What’chu talkin’ ’bout, Willis? Always come to mind, when Buba is jabbering on all day. I have even said it to him a few times, only to get the head tilt in confusion and the question,”Willis?”
This week is a few of our car conversations. It’s a shame we live so close to everything, I could write a book on the entertaining things Buba says in the car. As soon as I strap him in his car seat, it’s like a light pops on and his mouth never stops.
His new favorite thing is to tell Mommy where to drive. “This way, Mommy” or “wrong way Mommy, go that way, Mommy.” I have tried a few dozen times to tell him we have to go this way to get where we need to go. He isn’t convinced. “No go that way, please Mommy,” begging me to change direction constantly. I picked him up from nursery, and needed to get milk, as we are driving to the store he says, “can you find my house?” I replied, “Yes, but we need milk.” He shook his head and scowled at me, “my house is this way, Mommy.” I tried to explain that we need to make a pit stop. Instead I had to listen to this being shouted “Wrong way, Mommy, wrong way, Mommy, wrong way, Mommy” to me all the way to the store parking lot.
Our next little conversation happened yesterday in the car. The sun, for once was beaming.
Buba: “Ohhhhhh my eyes!” covering them with his hand, “move it Mommy.”
Me: Complexed, “move what?”
Buba: “My eyes.” he shouted.
Me: Looking in the rearview mirror and realizing the sun was in his eyes, “I can’t move the sun hunny, I am sorry.”
Buba: “But my eyes are sore.”
Me: “Close them.” as I turned the corner… there was a long pause…
Buba: “Ohhh you did it Mommy. Thanks”
My son now thinks I have power over the sun. Great, that won’t come back to bite me later. Made me feel powerful for a split second though, in my son’s eyes.
Our last car conversation is chasing an ambulance.
Buba: “What’s that?” hearing the sirens on an ambulance.
Me: “It’s an ambulance.”
Buba: “What is he doing?”
Me: “He is going to help someone.”
Buba: “No, Mommy.”
Me: “Yes, that’s why his lights and sirens are on.”
Buba: “No, he is going home, Mommy.”
Me: “I think he is helping someone first then he will probably go home.”
Buba: “No, he is eating dinner now.”
Why I try to argue back I will never know. It’s usually have way through trying to convince him of something that I realize I am arguing with a 2 year old. I love our time in the car together, and the mini conversations that are starting to sprout out. I can’t wait till Missy Moo can talk. I wonder what will be said between the two of them.
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