Dancing Eyebrows

Dear Caden,

You are in trouble because you weren't using your "listening ears" and just kept getting into things.
"Caden, please come here."
You hop to me on one foot, your eyes looking everywhere but at me.
"Eyes please."
You look at me and then look away.
"Caden, please look at Mommy when she talks to you."
Your big brown eyes stare back at me without blinking. I begin to talk to you about how you need to ask before you touch the items on my bathroom counter - that yes, I understand toothpaste is fun to squirt out of the tube, but you do not need to use the entire tube in one setting. You begin to squirm, staring at the imaginary fuzz floating in the air.
"Eyes please."
I continue talking and you, standing as still as a statue, begin wiggling your eyebrows up and down in sync with every word that came out of my mouth. I cannot express to you how difficult it is to have a serious conversation with a 3 year old when they have exaggerated dancing eyebrows. Needless to say, your eyebrows danced you out of a time out. Smooth.

Love,
Mommy

How to eat fried worms

Dear Caden,

We are playing outside and you are flitting here and there, not staying put in one spot longer than 5 seconds. Every once in awhile you would stop and feed me one of your goldfish and then hop off again. I close my eyes, enjoying the sounds of you tinkering around when you pop by my side and say, "Here Momma, eat this." I keep my eyes closed and open my mouth, expecting a salty, cheesy snack. Instead, my mouth is filled with a sour, slimy taste with a side of dirt. I instantly sit up, eyes opened wide and begin spitting out what you stuck in my mouth. A worm. You stuck a worm in my mouth. And it was still alive. I look at you and you have dirt around your mouth. I am just hoping you didn't eat one too. Not too sure I should continue reading "How to eat fried worms" to you. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Love,
Mommy

Poop Vents

Dear Caden,

Your fascination with poop has increased exponentially once you realized the function of the restroom vent. Now, you have known about the vent - or "fan"- as you have always called it, for quite some time. For some reason the light bulb went off in your little head and you now have a much deeper understanding of the vent and it's true purpose after asking a bazillion (not an exaggeration) questions. This weekend you have tried to go poop at least 3,486,354 times, and it is only Saturday, just so you could turn the vent on and whisk away the stinky smell.

Today as we were playing outside with some friends, one of them happened to poot. This of course made you come to me giggling hysterically.
"Momma! She pooted!" *snicker*
"Shhhh Caden, it isn't polite to say that out loud and point out when other people poot."
Still giggling, "Momma! It's stinky! Can we turn on the vent?"
"There are no vents outside Caden, just in the restroom. Shhhh...stop talking about it please. Go play."
You run off, still smiling that the neighbor had pooted.

This evening while saying our nighttime prayers you asked Jesus for a poop vent outside. I tried to stifle my laughter as I reminded you that vents were just for inside bathrooms.
"Yeah, but Jesus answers prayers Momma."
. . . That I can't argue with. Of course, my son would pray for a poop vent instead of world peace, or waffles. It does make me wonder what the true purpose of tornadoes are though. . .

Love,
Mommy