So Mancub has decided on a new ritual for the end of the day. Where before we would give him a bath and settle on the couch and watch 'Jack's Big Music Show' or 'Mickey Mouse Clubhouse' for an hour, he has decided that he prefers to lay in Mommy and Daddy's bed and watch 'The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh' or 'Pooh' for short. He picked up this habit from my mother who, in an attempt to mollify a bright eyed toddler at 2 a.m., will let him lay in her bed and watch Winnie the Pooh if he wakes up in the middle of the night when he sleeps over. I'm not complaining, WtP is my favorite Disney cartoon classic evah! I've already seen it six bajillion times and will happily watch it eleventy billion more. I think it's sweet, and my left butt cheek is grateful because when stuck with him in my lap on the couch it gets a cramp.
So last night as I was drying him off from his bath he looked at me and said, 'lumps and oozles' and I said, 'Wha?' He pointed at the TV in our bedroom, looked at me (like I was brain damaged), and said, 'lumps and oozles'. Oooooh! Heffalumps and Woozles! Duh! Of course! "Okay buddy, Lumps and Oozles in a second. Let's get your jammies on first." He ran to the bed, pulled his jammies off the edge, and handed them to me saying "lumps and oozles, lumps and oozles," and finally "Mooooomieeeeeeeeeeee! Lumps!And!Oozles!" which is not-quite-two-year-old speak for 'Holy christ woman! MOVE.YOUR.BUTT!'
So I tossed him (still naked) onto the bed, slapped a diaper on him (because he is NOT going to pee on my bed), and turned the movie on so it could run through the credits while I put his jammies on. **I pause here to tell the Disney folks that I find it wholly unnecessary for there to be 10 minutes of Disney filler that I cannot fast-forward through to get to the main menu. I don't need 10 minutes of forced 'Hey! Remember this movie? It's ours too!' when I have a toddler repeating 'Lumps and Oozles' at such a high volume that my ears bleed. kthanxbai!**
Newly scrubbed and jammied up, he looks over to the nightstand and sees his cup of juice, climbs over the pillows to retrieve it, then settles in to the aforementioned pillows and waits for his show to start. The Husband comes in the room at this point (I have only recently noticed that he is nowhere to be found when Mancub is screeching and fit-throwing, but pops up to bask in the docile moments) and three of us settle down in the dark to watch the movie when The Husband asks what we're watching. I tell him it's the same movie we've watched Every.Night.For.The.Last.Two.Weeks.
The opening strains of the movie start when Mancub pops up and says "dink dink dink". I ask him if he needs more juice and he looks at me, with what I imagine is pity and frustration, and put his little hand to his temple and says 'Dink! Dink! Dink!" tapping his temple 3 times for emphasis. I almost fell off the bed when I realize what he's saying. He was quoting Pooh 'Think Think Think' and when I was done laughing, I started to tear up. My boy is so cute it hurts. Here's proof.
36 years old, The Husband is 46. We are the very proud parents of son, Sharkbait. Ours is a family grown through adoption and we are so very happy to have had the opportunity to be Sharkbait's forever family.