11 January 2011


In the last entry, I owned the fact that Eamon is cooler than I am or ever was.

Each day, however, it seems like I am forced to face even more uncomfortable truths. As catharsis, therefore, I admit them to you, the interweb community.

Then again, those of you who know me and know Eamon probably figured all this out months ago.


Well, this might not be too much of a revelation. I mean, my sense of humor amuses me, but I get that it's not for everyone, and sometimes I find that I am the only one laughing at my own jokes. But I think I could take a page from Eamon's book.

If he says or does or thinks something is funny, he does not hesitate a moment to tell you, "Funny!" and look expectantly at you. He waits for you to laugh, but if you do not, he will remind you again, "FUNNY."

And eventually, his constant affirmations that he is funny and things are funny become funny in and of themselves. And you laugh. And he is satisfied.

I think, though, that this strategy might not work as well for those people beyond the age of 2.


See these dinosaurs?

Yes, those are the battalions of dinosaurs that are currently wintering in our house. And Eamon is obsessed with them.


If we leave the house, he wants to take as many as he can possibly carry. And that can be a surprisingly large number of dinosaurs for a two year old.

We, of course, try to tell him that he can take one dinosaur, because though he can manage to carry them out to the car, he quickly loses track of them and starts shedding them everywhere. We buy dinosaurs from Target on one Saturday, then go back to Target the next Saturday with our arms full of these purchased dinosaurs so that Eamon can distractedly sprinkle them throughout the store. It is as if we have paid large amounts of money to rent dinosaurs for a week at a time.

But Eamon sees nothing wrong with this procedure. He doesn't seem to know or care when he only comes back with half the number he took. We, however, are determined to make him see sense.

So when you tell him that he can only take one dinosaur, he thinks for a minute. He then picks up one dinosaur, announcing proudly, "One!"

Then he picks up another dinosaur. "One!" he declares.

Then another dinosaur. "One!"

Do you see what he has done here? He has not picked up three dinosaurs. He has picked up one dinosaur. On three distinct and separate occasions.

If you are confused, and still think that he is trying to leave with three, rather than one, dinosaur, you do not understand the New Math he has invented.

Welcome to the club.


And I don't just mean running. Although, of course, he is a really fast runner, and I know this because he runs almost constantly (I don't think I've ever seen him walk, actually) and since learning the word "fast", will say over and over, "Fast. Run fast!" He will run back and forth across the living room, over and over, pretending to huff and puff in exertion, as if training for the Olympics' 15 foot race.

And when I put on heels and try to chase him down in the mornings to get him ready to go to my parents', he is definitely faster than I am.

But even more amazing--the child has quick hands. Remarkably so.

Remember those dinosaurs?

This morning, I said that he could bring one dinosaur to Grandma and Grandpa's house. He picked up two, but instead of his new math counting method, had something else up his sleeves.

"One," I reminded him, put the extraneous dinosaur back, and turned around to put on my coat. When I turned back around, the second dinosaur was back in his hands.

"Eamon, I said one dinosaur." Once again, I put the dinosaur back in the basket and hustled Eamon away from the basket so that I could put on his coat. I started helping him put his arm through the first coat sleeve and realized that he had the second dinosaur in his hands again.

HOW DID HE DO THAT? He hadn't been near the basket! We need to start training him in sleight of hand.

At this rate, he will undoubtedly be the world's most comedic mathemagician.



See? It doesn't work for adults.

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