Like Mommy, Like Packy

Paxton's memory stuns me. I bought him a book two days ago and have read it to him twice. I don't generally read the title, as a rule, when I read him a book. Apparently, though, I must have said the title at some point, because when I went to get him out of bed this morning, he held up the book and said, "See, Mommy? Counting Kisses". Sometimes Chris and I are convinced that he can read. We have no recollection of teaching him so many things he knows.

Because he's so curious and ready to learn, I make it a point to tell him the correct information that he's asking about. He now knows that the three flags outside our neighbood entrance are the American flag, the Texas flag and the POW flag. He knows that girls have vulvas and boys have penises. He knows the difference between a construction truck and a telephone repair truck. There's no question that being his mom has made me more informed. Because he cares about the details, I do, too.

He's starting to use his imagination more and more. For months, he has been pretending that a french fry is a plane or a cookie with a bite taken out of it is a number six. He's been creating active little worlds for his cars. He enjoys driving them down the "road" and parking them in the "lots". Lately, he has started telling me things he did "last night". "Packy rode a big boat last night!". "Packy saw a big rig last night". I don't know if he's actually recounting dreams he had, or if this is a new game he's making up. Regardless, it's fun to hear about his nighttime adventures.

Anyone who knows Paxton would likely describe him as "emotional" or "dramatic". The kid is always the fastest one in any group to have a meltdown. I think he's prone to overstimulation, for one. And I'm sure I've fed into recognizing his breakdowns and giving him attention for them. But he's also sensitive to others. I'm seeing this more and more. At Tatum's birthday party, he doted on her. He put his hands out to catch her when she came down the slide, and when she fell, he helped her up and brushed her off. He loves his friends. When Harper is here, Paxton always makes sure that I get them both milk or a treat. Today, I hit my leg at the store and Paxton said, "Momma, you okay?". I love the nurturing side of him.

We haven't really begun a strict discipline system for Paxton. For most things, I'm able to explain to him why what he's doing in inappropriate. We will soon have to sit down and instigate a 'time out' penalty so he can really grasp when something is unacceptable. Currently, I find myself giving him a deadpan stare when he's working my last nerve. For some reason, he finds this utterly hilarious. He now stares right back at me until one of us cracks up like we're giddy teenagers. It's become something of a game for us, and though some people would surely frown on letting my 2-year-old get the better of my disciplinarian stare, I love sharing a good belly laugh with him more than anything. I should worry that my toddler and I have the same sense of humor, but I've never been known for acting my age.

Plus, it's clear Paxton has a great mind. And we all know that great minds think alike.