Someone around here is getting older and wiser by the minute.
No, it isn’t me. (I’m getting older, yes; wiser? …I’m not so sure.)
There must have been a note on the calendar this past Monday — one that I failed to see, but that he took note of. One that read something like this:
— begin to show complete understanding of everything Mama says by running ahead of her to the bathroom, the kitchen, the bedroom — whichever room she just said she’s heading to.
— pull the tupperware out as usual, but instead of just pushing it around, find the proper lids for each container and put them on yourself.
— refuse to eat orange slices that are plopped in front of you on the table; instead, squeal and reach toward the cupboard until your mother realizes you insist on having a plate, like any civilized person.
— run everywhere. Do not stop to find your balance. Just run. Headlong.
— don’t be put off with silly board books and building blocks. Find a way to be involved in every chore your mother does. (If she’s ignoring you, just grab your own apron, and pull a chair up to the counter. She’ll catch on.)
— start pulling your weight. Help with moving laundry from dryer to couch. Also help put piles away. Obey simple commands, like, “Bring this to the kitchen.”
— continue telling jokes. Begin to also include long stories, and always talk with your hands.
— look straight into Mama’s eyes while speaking to her, and show her that you really mean what you say.
— fuss when you hear the phrase, “Time for bed!”