Never Ask a Five-Year-Old What to Write About

Occasionally I read one of my blog entries aloud to Matthew (edited for his little ears), who loves hearing about things as I write them.  His favourite of the posts I've read to him is the one I wrote 6-8 weeks back about our garden tomatoes, which you may recall me describing as looking in shape and size to be something akin to his non-facial cheeks.  He loves telling strangers we meet in the produce section of the grocery store that our tomatoes from home look like his bum cheeks with a crack in the middle.  Then he doubles over laughing and slapping his knees, like he's just told some huge and hilarious joke...and the person he's told the story to invariably laughs, too, but in a strained sort of way that makes me feel as if Matthew and I are really a couple of crazy people, out on not-so-great behaviour.  I guess it must be the homsechooling after all - we're not particularly socially competent around here!

As I sat down for a few minutes today to write a post, I declined Matthew's request to read him the tomato blog entry yet again, and changed the topic by asking him what he thought I should write about.  Without hesitation he answered: "You should write about me, of course!"  Of course...I should have known better than to ask an egocentric five-year-old that question.  When asked specifically what he would like me to share with you, he again had a quick response.  Thus, here is the story about a moment shortly after his birth....  Soon after Matthew was delivered, medical professionals were completing their physical checks of him and the ObGyn commented that, at 9 pounds, 7 ounces, and in possession of a full head of black hair, Matthew looked like a two-month-old; indeed, as his finger-clutching strength later demonstrated, he was a hefty little man.  Matthew then (and here's the part of the story he particularly loves) demonstrated his further maturity (that being good aim) by proceeding to pee all over the doctor, who was nowhere near fast enough to escape the fountain.  Matthew loves, loves, loves, that story and, while it is nowhere near the favourite part of his birth story from my perspective, I feel as if I've now done my duty to Matthew by sharing it with you.  I can only hope that he will not be sharing this story in the produce section...or demonstrating.  Also, I will wait awhile before asking him again what I should write about!