I know I’ve written about Séamus quite a few times, but his threeishness affords quite a few topics to write about. This is good for me, because it means I have an almost neverending supply of blog fodder. Hopefully, that news will bring the utmost excitement and sheer joy to all of my regular readers…all 5 of you (yes! We’ve now progressed to 5! Happy dance!!).
Now, on to the topic at hand…Séamus-isms. Ferris Bueller said the following:
A person should not believe in an “-ism,” he should believe in himself. I quote John Lennon, “I don’t believe in Beatles, I just believe in me.
This is all fine and dandy, but the only reason why he held to this viewpoint was because he never met Séamus. Believe me, if he had, he’d change his tune in a hurry and at the very least believe that certain –“ism”s are pretty darn funny.
As I’ve mentioned before, Séamus is three. Three year olds are notorious for being very matter of fact on issues they know nothing about…you know, come to think of it, so are many adults…oh well, nevermind that. Back to Séamus. Let me give you some examples.
A few weeks ago, Séamus came running into the kitchen, yelling: “Mommy! I peeped!” I looked at him, and asked: “Where did you peep, Séamus?” “In the BATHROOM!” was his reply. Of course, I understood perfectly what was going on, but to any other person who is not well versed in the goings on at Casa Izz, Séamus might have been thought to have been peeking in at someone while they were doing their business in the bathroom. But that wasn’t it at all. He wasn’t “peeping” at anyone. He went potty. We had just potty trained him and whenever he went potty, he would run and tell us that he “peeped”. We all had a good laugh for about a week after, calling him the “Peeping Séamus”.
Another “Séamus-ism” has to do with the way he acts, rather than what he says. He hates to go to bed (unless, of course, it’s with Mommy….darn Œdipus), and he has become very adept at faking sleep when it suits his needs. You can go into the room, lightly shake him, talk to him, tickle him…he just lies there without making a sound. If you pick him up, he stays totally limp, like he is totally asleep. It’s not until you’ve gotten out the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream that you wait to take out until all the littles are asleep that you find out that he’s really not asleep at all. “Mommy, I want soma you ice cream!” he loudly states after he has sneaked up behind you. He can fool everyone in the house with his bogus slumber. He really is that good at it.
The latest “Séamus-ism” was one of the funniest ones. A couple of weeks ago, on a particularly hot day, Mr Izz and I proceeded to take the Izzlets to the beach. It took some time to endear poor Séamus to the water, but once he understood it’s capacity for fun, you couldn’t get him out of it. He would try to get further and further out into the water, pushing it to the limit each time he went in, and making his mother (which would be me) more and more anxious and afraid that he would make it out to the outer limits of the designated swimming area…although, the way he was going, he probably would have swam to the other side of the river rather than drown. But I really wasn’t in the mood to find out, so it was a close eye I was keeping on him and guiding him back whenever he tried to make a break for it. By the time we got home, several hours later, he was tuckered out, the poor guy. We had dinner, and shortly after tucked the little guys into bed (I was pretty confident that there would be no phony snoozing, based on how tired he was). Not too long after, Séamus comes running out of his room, yelling at the top of his lungs…don’t let his size fool you; he can yell pretty loudly when he puts his mind to it. I couldn’t understand him amidst all the screams, so I calmed him down, and then asked him what was wrong. “My BRAIN!!! It’sa comin’ out my EARS!!!” I just looked at him because I couldn’t for the life of me understand what would make him think such a thing. Then it occurred to me that he’d been in the water all day, and he might have gotten water in his ears. Sure enough, when I looked, you could see a water-like substance in his ear canal. I had my answer, and trying very hard not to laugh, I informed him that it was just water coming out, not his brain. It did take some doing to finally convince him, and honestly, I’m not too sure he really was. But at least he was calm enough to get back to bed, and really go to sleep.
The next day, he did talk a little about it, saying things like “My brain too big to get outta my ears”…I’m not sure where I got this, for I didn’t think I said. Maybe he’s smarter than I’d thought, or at least more conceited. But at least he felt better about the situation. So did I. Especially because he went right to sleep afterwards, and was so tired, didn’t come to sleep with me. It really is the little things…