There are days that my children play so well together that I repeatedly ask them to verify they are, in fact, my children and not alien imposters. And then, there are days when one of them has a friend over and I spend my time refereeing quarrels and disputes.
“Mommy, he’s trying to karate chop my friend!”
“Mommy, she is closing the door so I can’t play with them!”
“Mommy, he is picking his nose and trying to wipe it on us!”
“Mommy, they want me to play baby and I am not allowed to talk!”
Having been involved in such disputes many moons ago with my brother, I am well aware of the frustration these incidents present and the hurt feelings that occur. But yesterday, Little Man took matters into his own hands. And now for the meat of this post…….
Working from home, I was seated blissfully in my home office while my daughter and her two friends played. Little Man (dressed as Iron Man and standing outside his sister’s bedroom door) demanded they let him play Iron Man in their game of House. Clearly, the girls had no intention of letting Iron Man play – that is unless he played Iron Man Baby and he pretended he was asleep. Not satisfied with the role he was cast in, he stomped away. For several minutes, all was quiet. Right around the moment I thought that all was too quiet, I heard Little Man knock on my daughter’s door…..
Knock -Knock- Knock, “Hot Dog Man.”
Knock – Knock -Knock, “Good Afternoon, Hot Dog Man here.”
At first, I had no idea what he was saying. But as giggles grew louder so did his “Hot Dog Man” call.
The girls, clearly won over by his sense of humor, opened the door and let him play. They settled on Iron Man Boy who could talk.
The rest of the afternoon they played well together with much laughter and silliness. I have no idea what “Hot Dog Man” means nor did the girls when I asked them. Little Man had no answer for me either. But as the girls left to go home, they clearly made an effort to say goodbye to Little Man – something that has never occurred before.
I often say that I blog for my sanity and I blog to keep a written account of motherhood for my children. This post is for you, Little Man. You were almost 6 years old and you won over two 8-year-olds and one 6-year-old with your humor and charm. And so it begins…..
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