Lion and Magic Boy

I never know what Eric is thinking.

Unless, of course, he has raided the pantry and brings me a box of crackers to open and distribute. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s thinking then.

Eric likes the pantry. It’s unfortunately located in a lower-level corner cabinet (shows my excellent planning-ahead skills when I assigned that cabinet to contain Stuff Relating to Food) that’s kind of a lazy-susan thing. So imagine Eric’s delight when he pushes it and behold! Bright packages! Which look like food! Take them to Mama! Maybe they are food!

I have noticed that he’s never brought me the cat food. Smart boy, he is.

Eric stays pretty busy, yes. Dismantling and Strewing are two of his primary jobs these days. As well as repeatedly yelling “Stuck!” when he needs help.

The other day it took him about 15 minutes to complete the following tasks on his “To-Do” list:

1. Pull a cart filled with blocks over to the foyer and throw the blocks, one by one at the front door while chortling gleefully.

2. Take same blocks and put most of them in a bucket. Repeat throwing/chortling.

3. Open and unpack all the videotapes from two cabinets, strewing them all over the floor. I think we should go to DVD, don’t you?

4. Strum Nathaniel’s cello.

5. Look out the window next to Nathaniel’s cello and pretend he was not actually touching said cello.

6. Go find the Kinder Harp that is wildly out of tune now, and play it a little while singing.

7. Place the dry cat food remaining in their bowl into the cat’s water dish.

8. Scoop up some catwater to enjoy in his cup.

9. Remove a box of crackers from the pantry and bring it to me, demanding one.

10. Take two bites of cracker and discard the rest on the way back to the pantry.

11. Bring me the box of “cookies” (they are actually graham crackers, shhh!) and receive two. They aren’t found later so I presume they were eaten. My desk is now piling up with pantry items.

12. Bring me a package of Swedish fish from Ikea that no one wants. He doesn’t want one either (I offer him a piece of a red one, but he lets the offending matter simply drop out of his mouth), but the bag adds to my desk stash.

13. Bring me a package of chocolate chips. I put them next to the monitor where they proceed to melt.

Not long after all this, I am in the kitchen and Eric is there with me, playing with the refilled cat food bowl. He picks up a piece, eyes glinting, and holds it up to his mouth, daring me to tell him NOT to eat it. He knows me too well.

I look him squarely in the eye and say, “Go ahead.”

Eric does not like cat food, it turns out.

A little later I am sitting at the computer. If I turn my head I can see through the foyer and through the kitchen into the dining room. I can’t see much of it but get a slice of each room. I hear Eric calling me emphatically, “Mama! Mama! [something unintelligible] Mama!” I turn my head and look:

There is Eric, standing on the dining table, grinning widely. Look what he has done!

I am secretly very proud of him. This is the boy who only began to walk not long ago, and he’s never been very steady physically, but he found a way to climb up onto the table.

We’ll be keeping his accomplices, the chairs, pushed in from now on.

So yeah, he’s totally three. I’m good with it.