Monday, February 23, 2009
Viri Speaks: The Quotable Giant Monster
I've told many people about how Viri has a way with words. He's not a huge talker. He has his little speeches, though, that are just amazing. I've worked with a few dozen kids in the past few years that are his age, and no one has quite the ability to capture a situation like Taviri Issa.
Today was a classic. It started with Arkaedi knocking over a bunch of bags, and Viri exclaiming, "I'm the good one!" He saw a rare chance to not be in trouble, I guess. Later, he was sharing his toys with Arkaedi, in an effort to continue as the good one of the family, I expect. "Give her the yellow one," I told him, referring to the little hammers in the Break the Ice game that he loves. "It's orange, Papa. I thought it was yellow. I was wrong." He shook his head sadly. Okay, I can tell it's one of those nights. He's rolling.
He got a time out just before bed, for knocking over Arkaedi in a careless dash across the kitchen. "I'm a bad boy," he tells me sadly. He's lamenting the return of the good kid crown to his sister. "No, Viri, not bad. Just a good boy who needs to think about his mistake." He seizes this opportunity. "Good boys don't need time out! I can get up? I'm done?" I'm a little stunned. Uh, no. Wait! Who knew my philosophy degree was only useful in dealing with my three year old? Your state of goodness is only in potentia! There is no a priori reason for me to accept the goodness, I must witness it and prove that it follows from your behavior! While I'm thinking, he tries another route. He finds a little flower on the floor from some art project. "Look, Papa, a flower. Only good boys have flowers. I don't need a time out." I'm almost ready to give it to him. The sheer effort is worth something. I go for the classic father line, the sledge in our toolbox. "I'm the Papa, I said time out! Three minutes, now sit down." It works. But he's only three. I don't know how long I can Papa-voice my way out of this.
He marches off, chanting, into the living room. I barely catch what he is chanting. "Oat, oat! Soy, soy! Oat, oat! Soy, soy!"
He points to the movie we had been watching before starting the bedtime routine. The MST3K Godzilla versus Megalon. "Tom Servo! Jet Jaguar! I see you!"
We don't even give him sugar. Thankfully.