It's so hard not to laugh when you are having a conversation with Nolan. He says and does some of the silliest (and sweetest) things. And he's not even trying to be charming!
On Day 1, as we were leaving McDonald's in Wisconsin, Nolan was beside himself, he was so tired. He was walking to the van and apparently, rather zoned out. I was about five feet ahead of him and I opened the van door for him. I turned just in time to see him walk smack into the side mirror of the car next to us. He hit it so hard that I actually checked to make sure he hadn't damaged the car. Understandably, he immediately burst into tears. I scooped him up and tried to comfort him while I checked for injuries (another day, another bruise in the life of Nolan). Nolan stopped sobbing long enough to say, "I wasn't looking where I was going!"
Yes. I noticed.
Later in the week, Nolan decided to start working on his math skills. He was talking to himself. "One plus one equals eleven" was his wise observance. I laughed. I corrected him, but I also thought that in a way, he was right. If you put two 1s next to each other, you do get eleven.
By the end of the week, Nolan was walking around the house saying "two plus two equals four, three plus three equals six". That's my smart boy!
Nolan is just like his Daddy and his brothers in that he likes some white noise while he is sleeping. All of the bedrooms had clock radios in them, so I located what I thought was a nice classical music station for him. They were playing some piano music that sounded kind of like a hymn. Nolan agreed that it was a good station, so I kissed him good night and left the room. An hour later, I checked on him and almost started laughing out loud. Nolan was sound asleep, sprawled out in the middle of his big bed. The soft piano music was no longer playing. In its place, was a religious person of some sort, yelling out a fire and brimstone sermon. And Nolan slept right through it.
On Friday night, the night before we came home, Bill and I were inside, packing things up. Sam and Nolan were outside with their squirt bottles and were playing quite nicely. I was upstairs emptying some dresser drawers when I heard Nolan crying and Bill speaking in a noticeably angry voice (yes, it does happen on rare occasion--he can get angry). Nolan continued crying and I thought Bill sounded particularly ticked off, so I went downstairs to see what was going on.
At this point, I need to backtrack. Let me remind you that we have 3 boys. And we were in a remote part of the state. More than once that week, the boys (usually Nolan) had a bathroom emergency when no bathrooms were in sight, so I would give them permission to use a bush.
Back to Friday night. Apparently, while playing outside with Sam, Nolan realized he needed to have a bowel movement. Rather than walk the ten feet to the front door, Nolan pulled down his pants and pooped. In the side yard of the house. Right in the landscaping. In broad daylight. Where people could see him.
Now I understood Bill's tone. He wasn't really mad, he was mortified! I had to get a plastic bag and have Sam show me where the item had been deposited. Trust me, it's far worse than cleaning up after a dog.
After I dealt with that, I went to talk to our wayward son and to put his pajamas on him. He was still recovering from his tears of shame. He wrapped his arms around me and said, "I had to say I was sorry four..no five times!" I laughed. But he knows now to never, never poop in the yard.
One last funny thing. The freezer in the rental house did not have an ice cube maker. It was no big deal, as there were four ice cube trays in there. But the boys have apparently never seen an ice cube tray before. All three of them were fascinated with them. Whenever I needed to get ice out, they'd all gather around to watch me crack the ice and pop the cubes out. They acted like it was such a strange invention. It made me feel really, really old.
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