Let's Talk About Talmage

Talmage has never been lacking in the personality department, but it seems lately that personality is running hurdles in the Olympics. He is a chatterbox of a child and says some of the funniest, sweetest, nicest things you will ever hear cross a 3-year-olds lips. And then in the next breath he is suprising you with his attitude, disrespect and plain meaness. I am loving a lot of things about having a kid who is 3, and I am detesting others. I can't be the first mom that feels this way. At least that's what I tell myself when Talmage is yelling, "Mommy Scott Wigginton, you are mean to me all of da day. You go sit on da stairs wight now," in the background. It's a stage, right? And I know it is. Just six months ago I couldn't stand that he was peeing his pants 10 times a day because he was too lazy to walk into the bathroom, and now we don't have that problem at all. Improvement!!! Talmage's personality is teaching me to take a deep breath, use my words (like I tell him to 100 times a day), have patience, explain things clearly and consistently and realize, for better or worse, that this stage won't last forever ... oh yeah, and try to enjoy the heck out of all the cute things he does.

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Me: If you tell me no one more time you will go sit on the stairs, now please come over here.

T: NOse.

Me: Talmage...

T: What? I didn't say no. I says nose.  

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T loves his tunes these days. I've barely buckled him into the carseat before he's begging for music on the radio. He knows almost all of the most popular songs, and sings them with me while displaying his new and amazing dance moves. We often have dance parties in the living room, and last week he informed me that he needed to go put his dance costume on before we continued. He came down proudly wearing his halloween costume from 2 years ago. I loved seeing that little pirate shake his booty!

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T: I want some toast on my butter! {Not a slip of the tongue, I think I've mentioned before how much this kid adores butter}

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When Talmage grows up, he wants to be a baseball player. Other than making his great-Grampa Harry ridiculously happy by uttering those words, he has also made our family dates to Stanford's sunken field a super fun experience. He can sit through a whole baseball game (if I have sufficient game-watching treats) and will cheer right along with the adults. He loves to yell out the batters name, and is so proud of himself when people are impressed. A few weeks ago there were fireworks after the baseball game. I realized later that these were the first fireworks we'd seen with T since he was an infant. It was so exciting to watch the sparkle in his eyes. He's adorable.

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Me: T, that makes me so happy.
T: Oh yeah. And did it make Heavenly Father happy? And did it make KAI happy?

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He has a thing about getting himself dressed these days. He has never been one to care about what he wears, and this has largely worked in my benefit. Alas, those days are over and now he will refuse to wear clothes and picks out his own outfit. Heaven forbid we are going somewhere and I want him to wear something specific...the battle my friends is insane. He also will come down wearing underwear over his clothes on occasion, calling himself a super hero.

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Me: T, you are so cute.
T: No. I'm not cute. I'm a big boy. Big boys are not cute.
Me: Oh...are big boys handsome?
T: No.
Me: Gorgeous?
T: No.
Me: Are big boys awesome?
T: Yeah! Awesome! Big boys are awesome.

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T fell out of the 2nd story window last week. I wish I could say it was the first time something like this has happened, but it's not. It was, however, more traumatic this time. He was in my room watching a show while I showered and saw some friends outside. He wanted to yell hello to his friends and while banging on the screen to get their attention he fell right through the screen and out the window. Thank goodness Stanford has installed wooden awnings outside the window. He fell onto the awning and had his arms wrapped tightly around the wooden planks while screaming for help. He was more scared than hurt but we were all just a little bit spooked.

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T: When we're done wif Evie, can we have a sister?

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Talmage's second surgery started this week out with a bang. It turns out the right nostril didn't heal properly so our doctor had to fix both sides on Monday. It took him awhile to wake up from the "sleepy drink" and he was a lot more sore and grumpy this time. But he got his popsicle and Cars on the big screen so it was all ok in the end. And baby bear and the white blanket came along for the ride, obviously.

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Me: What can 3-year-olds do?
T: They can be careful wif their brothers and no knock them down.
Me: Awesome. What else can 3-year-olds do?
T: They can be happy. 3-year-olds can also be not sad.
Me: Yeah? What else?
T: 3-year-olds can play wif each other. And share.