The Essence of Wilder

I'm still lying in bed when Wilder walks groggily into my room. "Mama, where's Papa?" "He's downstairs." "Oh." He turns around and starts to wander off in search of Jerry. And then ... "Oh, Mama!" He flies across the bed, puts his little long arms around my neck and gives me a squeeze and then a kiss. "I'm sorry, I almost forgot." Because that's just the way Wilder is. Such a sweet, sweet boy.

In which I inadvertently teach my kid the word "ass"

Yesterday, Wilder woke up and started chattering to me about how if you took the letter "c" of "crook" you'd have "rook." If you took off the "c" and "r" you'd have "ook." Etc. As an aside, let me explain that A) Wilder apparently thinks things he learns at school are things I have never heard of in my life; and B) Wilder never stops talking these days. He follows me around the house in a stream of consciousness that is at times brilliant, at times hilarious and, of course, at times EXHAUSTING.

Seriously. Try listening to a 6 and 1/2-year-old talk about the things inside his head all day. I guarantee you that most of it is the mutterings of an mad person in a nuthouse.

At any rate, this "take the letters off and this is what you get" was clearly something he had been thinking about a lot.

So later in the day, we went to the park and were heading back to the car to go home for lunch. Hunter was being Hunter — all "let me look at this roly-poly for 10 minutes and quit telling me to walk, woman!" He was also in ultimate sulk mode because his friend Calder was still at the park, riding his bike WITHOUT TRAINING WHEELS AND WHY WOULD I NOT GO HOME RIGHT NOW AND TAKE HUNTER'S TRAINING WHEELS OFF AND BRING HIS BIKE BACK SO THAT HE COULD RIDE WITH CALDER?!?

See those all-caps? That is what it's like living with a mercurial 4-year-old. Also, I have been suggesting for months that we take Hunter's training wheels off and he usually reacts as if I'm plotting to kill him. So there's that.

And you people wonder why I indulge in the occasional massive glass of wine ...

So anyway, let's just say I was trying very hard to keep my exasperation in check and herd two boys — one babbling non-stop and one yelling at me that he had a bug on the bottom of his shoe, and me yelling back that it was because he had stomped said bug (I mean, really ... duh.  C'mon Hunter, how is this not obvious to you?) — back to the car.

I was desperately in need of something to make me laugh.

Enter: Wilder.

Somehow, the word "glass" came up.

Me: What happens if you take "g" off of "glass?" 

I was trying to direct his constant yapping into something more educational.

Wilder: It's "lass."

Yeah. You see where this is heading, right?

Wilder (loudly): And if you take off the "g" and the "l," it's ASS!

Me (furtively looking around to see if any of the parking lot denizens had heard. Yep, they had.): Well, that's right. But that's actually kind of a bad word that grown ups say, so let's not use it too much, OK?

Wilder: What?! What does it mean??? (He MUST know what all words mean these days.)

Me: It's a bad word for "butt."

Wilder ponders this for a second. As we walk right by a woman getting into her car.

Wilder: So if I said "Hunter has a BIG FAT ASS?" ... that's how I could use that word?

You can't imagine how many times I was asked, "Mama, why are you laughing so hard?" in the next 30 seconds.

Yes son, that's right. It would be a proper use of "ass." Well done.