Me: What are you working on, Bud?
Sim: I told you—a spaceship. It’s kind of a tricky job.

DPP pics from past years: 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010

Simon has always had quite a bit of hair. And it’s pretty crazy most of the time. It makes for some of the best bedhead ever, and, well, for better or for worse his hipster hair (bottom left) has kind of become his signature look.

Lately, Simon has mentioned a couple of times that “someday” he will shave his head like Daddy does—“When I get a little older, maybe,” he explains. Last night he was curled up next to Jason on the couch and said, “I will shave my head when I get to be a kuhdult [adult].” Jason said that sounded like a good idea. Then Simon added, “Yeah, when I grow up to be a daddy, maybe we can share the shaver [clippers] between us daddies.”

Jason didn’t have the heart to tell him that when he grows up to be a daddy he’ll live in his own house with his own family. I, of course, am not-so-secretly hoping that he will live close enough to actually making sharing the clippers practical.

“Mommy, today I’m going to sing a different kind of song about Jonah. This is about Jonah takes a ride on the Catbus.”

On the way home last night, Simon wanted his window rolled down.

Jason: It’s too cold to roll the window down, buddy.

Simon: I am-n’t cold.

Jason: Be that as it may; you’re not the only one in the car.

Simon: Yes, I am! I am the only one in the car.

Jason: No, you’re not, buddy.

Simon: I am!

Jason: Okay, who is driving?

Simon: Me!

Jason: Simon, who are you talking to?

Simon: Nobody.

Jason: So we’re just figments of your imagination then?

Simon: I do!

We had to admit, the kid knows how to sell a story. We had to admire his consistency and clever redirect at the end there. (We also thought his denying our corporeal existence was a little creepy.)

For some time now I’ve been meaning to write about Simon’s obsession with guitars. It approaches (and occasionally even supersedes) his obsession with trains.

He pays careful attention to things like who has a guitar at their house and whose mommy or daddy knows how to play. Since we don’t have one at our house (yet!), he pretends one of the heating vents is a guitar and happily strums away, singing his original songs (usually about choochoos or Jonah).

Today, I finally got some Christmas shopping done. I wrapped one present for each of the boys and put them under the tree. To my great delight, Simon pulled his gift out and said he was going to pretend it was a guitar. When asked what he thought was actually inside the box, his response was, “I not know! It’s a present. Maybe it’s Scooby Dooby.” Well, maybe, kid, but I suspect you’re going to be one happy little dude on Christmas morning.

Lately, Simon has been really concerned about things running out (or “almost out”), so we spend some time talking about where we might get more. This was this morning’s rundown:

Me: Hey, Simon, we’re almost out of gas. Where should I go to get more?

Simon: A das station!

Me: And what if I need some coffee?

Simon: At da coffee house!

Me: We need some groceries. Where could I go?

Simon: Da gwoooshwee stoe. [That’s “grocery store,” but I bet you got that from the context.]

Me: I need more socks. Where do I get those?

Simon: Hy-Vee.

Me: Hmmm. Okay, what if I need a shirt.

Simon: Hy-Vee too!

Me: How about Target?

Simon: Nooooo. Silly Mommy.

Me: [Trying to throw him for a loop.] Where would I get a new belly button?

Simon: [Without missing a beat.] God!

Simon and I were looking at some pictures this morning.

Simon: Hey, it’s Baby Ian! [He’s been saying “Ee-an” and not just “Een”]
Mommy: How can you tell that’s Ian and not some other baby?
Simon: He’s got white socks
Simon: . . . and a white head.

Part of this morning’s conversation:

Me: Who is Ian’s mommy?
Simon: Mommy!
Me: Who is your mommy?
Simon: Mommy!
Me: Who are mommy’s sons?
Simon: Simon and Een.
Me: Simon, are you littler or bigger than Ian?
Simon: Big!
Me: Right. So what is your relationship? [I was going for “big brother.”]
Simon: He gives me hugs.

Yesterday we took Aunt Rhonda (Da!) to the zoo. We arrived just before lunchtime, so we just did kind of an abridged version of our normal visit (we do almost the same things every time): fed the goats (one little pellet at a time), washed our hands, skipped the eagle’s next, skipped the butterfly pavilion, imitated whatever the wallabies were doing (laying down), marveled at the tortoises, played in the sand (but not for 20 minutes), ran through the sprinkler (but only twice), skipped the monkeys and the spider web, breezed past the camels, walked right on past the gibbons (we usually do anyway), fed the lion (“Paper, paper, paper! I just looooooove eating paper!” It gets in my head every time I hear it), climbed on the playground (but not for 15 minutes), sat on the bear, jumped in the eggs (but not for 10 minutes), pointed out the new chicks, strolled past the otter (he was sleeping), said hi to the turtles, forgot all about the crocodile, created distractions so that Simon didn’t realize we were skipping the bald eagle and the telescope on the way up the hill, and, finally, rode the choochoo (we usually just wave good-bye instead of riding, but it was a special treat with Aunt Da).

My favorite exchange this time:

Me: Hey, Simon, can you tell Rhonda what these big animals are called? Can you tell her they’re camels?
Simon: No, no, no, Mommy. Those are biiiiiig goats!

Me: Hey, what’s your name, Bud?

Simon: Iss Simon [kinda sounds like “Tye-bon”].

Me: Okay, what’s your brother’s name?

Simon: Baby Een.

Me: What’s Daddy’s brother’s name?

Simon: Hans Baby. [We worked on the concept that Hans is Jason’s brother like Ian is Simon’s brother.]

Me: What’s Mommy’s sister’s name?

Simon: Da [Rhonda].

Me: Okay, here’s a harder one: what is Mommy’s daddy’s name? [I was going for “Papa.”]

Simon: [Long pause] . . . Mama’s dada!