Mac These Days

Caution: Mom post ahead. May not interest anyone not biologically related to Mac Smith.

MB's well-being is always a topic of conversation in real life and on this blog, but our firstborn is by no means neglected. Who could ignore this boy?

What's wrong with this picture?

Mac prefers to be center stage, putting on an ever-changing improv act worthy of the Great White Way.

Last summer I wrote a "Mac-tionary" to keep up with the many phrases he was using at the time. I couldn't write you a list of what he says now if I typed 'til the keys fell off. He's a hoot!

Mac is a skilled orator already, part-politican and part-salesman. He knows how to ask and what to say to get just what he wants, depending on the audience. Yes, grandparents, I'm talking about you.

He picks up and repeats phrases we never even knew he'd heard. (No more front seat conversations we don't want shouted from the church rooftop!) He relays, word for word, discussions we had days ago - and it's eerily accurate. Talk about accountability!

Mac catches on to our reactions and makes running gags of anything that makes us giggle or fight back a smile in serious moments.

Here are a few of his favorite expressions:

Why?: About everything. All the time. There can be a dozen "Why?" questions in a row. Why is chicken on my plate? But why is it what's for dinner? Why is this orange juice? Why aren't you turning left at the green light? Why did you turn right at the red light? Why is Daddy home? Why is Daddy not home? Why? Whyyyy? I could go on, but I'll spare your eyeballs the trauma Mac's "Why?" phase has wreaked on my eardrums.

What can I do now?: He's bored. My efforts at creativity or fun have amused him for as long as a two-year-old attention span will allow. I like to reply, "Anything you want, baby. You can do anything you want." My words have not motivated him to climb Mt. Everest yet.

Ummm,  wellll: Each buys him time at the start of a sentence. Bradley does the same thing, and he claims it's to hold his spot in a conversation, otherwise I'll talk right through his pause. The nerve.

Sometimes: "Sometimes I want to pick up my toys, Mama, but sometimes I don't. Right now, um...I don't." (Sorry, buddy. That won't change the course of your afternoon.)

Bewieve: 'Mac, we hold hands every time we walk across the parking lot. Do you understand?' 'Um, I bewieve I do.'

Ta-da, hooray, whoop it up, yay-yer, I'm so gwad, "clap and say yay!": His favorite joyful expressions. It's impossible not to smile hearing these, even when he orders me to clap and say yay simultanously. He'll ask me to do it over if I do one first and then the other. A real perfectionist, this kid.

Dewishus, dewish-ee-oh-so: Mac's English and Spanish exclamations of culinary delight. Mostly reserved for unhealthy things; if God made it, it's not quite good enough for his taste buds. Most inexplicably, this includes watermelon.

I don't sink so: "Mac, could you pick up that last puzzle piece, please?" "Umm, I don't sink so." I'm learning to say 'please do' rather than 'would you,' for obvious reasons.

Weft, wight: "Mama, you need to turn weft here to get to da gauche-wee dore (grocery store). But our house is down that woad to the wight." He is always correct; thank B's geography genes for that. I still hold out my fingers in an L shape to determine my left from right.

Wing, wide, witch: Swing, slide, switch. We are working on our "s" and "l' sounds and enjoying the toddler speak in the meantime. "Wet's go to da park so we can wing and wide!"

Guy, my-ull, sweep: Sky, smile, sleep. (Those S sounds are tricky!)

Nack: Snack. He is the world's hungriest boy, so this is tossed about a lot.

Sure was: "Mama, I sure was missin' you when I was takin' my nap." Cue melting.

Was (verb)in': Mac's preferred tense. "Mary Brooks was gigguhwin' when I tickled her." "Daddy was mowin' da gwass yesterday."

Probwee: Probably. "Mac, do you know where your sippy cup is?" "Ummmm, probwee we need to get a new one out of da cabinet." Read: I'd rather keep playing than look for it, thanks.

Compliments: Mac balances out his whiny moments with unexpected, thoughtful exclamations. "Mama, you sure wook pretty in dat." "Daddy, you are a great helper." "Mary Brooks picked up her paci! I wike it when you do dat, baby." "Mimi, dat was a nice try. You did a good job."

Sue-err: Sure. "Mac, could you hand Mary Brooks her paci, please?" "Sue-err I can. Here you go, baby."

Dolphin: Darlin'. He heard me call MB "baby darlin'" and has been referring to her as his baby dolphin ever since. 

In a minute I wee-ull: A bit of a blow-off. "Mac, we need to (fill in unsavory toddler task here)." "Well, in a minute I wee-ull. Wight now I'm just bein' a fireman." He is always shocked this answer doesn't fly.

Mo: He has said this just once, when I told him he was not allowed to say 'No' in a situation; we say, "Yes, ma'am" and do as Mama asked. He began to obey, but not before saying "Mo," and pointing out he hadn't said "No." Reminded me of an Almost Famous scene.

Guh-wull: Girl. "Mary Brooks is my baby guh-wull."

Cah-wurr: Car. "I weft my cup in da cah-wurr." The way he pronounces his Rs in these words cracks me up!

Just a widdle bit, not a wot dough: Just a little bit. Not a lot, though. "Oh, Macky, I'm sorry you fell down. Does your leg hurt?" "Well, a widdle bit it does. Just a widdle bit, not a wot dough." (He answered this way when asked if he liked our new rug.)

Whiz mornin': His combination of "this" and "one" morning. Used to indicate anytime before now, whether it was actually this morning or ages ago. "Whiz mornin' Mary Brooks was at da hospital and dat nice nurse gave me a colorin' book."

I don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout.: He said this once (after a long rambling story) and had B in stitches, so it pops up occasionally for giggles.

Bwess his heart: Mac's first 'bless your heart' moment came in May, when he heard his cousin, baby Connor, was sick overseas. "Awww, bwess his heart." Love.

Y'all: This was added to his vocabulary in June; I felt it was a momentous occasion. His first "y'all" was to me and B: "Can I come sit wiff y'all on the sofa?" I'm so honored! Remind me to write that in his baby book alongside "bless his heart."

Durries: Stories. "Mama, do you know any durries? Can you tell me a durry about a widdle boy named Mac?"

Can you say dat?: When he learns a new word, he expects it's new to you, too. "Dis bug is a wadybug. Can you say dat, Mama?" We are praised heartily when we comply. "Good job, Mama! Dat was a hard fing to say."

Who's dat man? Who's dat wady?: He expects to know everyone in Greenville, as do I. When he doesn't, he requires an introduction STAT. Where could he get this social butterfly/nosy neighbor tendency?

Green-vuhll: Mac pronounces the name of his hometown like a local. He even said to a relative, when asked if he was going back to "Green-ville" that night, "Well, I'm going to Green-vuhl."

What are da wetters for....: Mac knows the letters to so many words - his name, our names, Blue's name. He recognizes letters in public and is very curious about how to spell his favorite words. "Mama, what are da wetters for Dora?" "Daddy, what is Home Depot in wetters?"

Can I tell you someping?: A classic stalling tactic before bed or nap-time. "Well, can I tell you someping, Mama?" "Yes, Mac. Go ahead." "Well, um...well. Dis is my room. Did you know dat?"

I love you deep deep deep and high high high.: From a favorite book, based on the Scripture read in our wedding. This phrase was first said to his baby sister; more melting ensued.

Pribacy: What a person needs (but rarely gets) while in the bathroom.

Oh, me!: An exclamation of weariness, shock or disappointment.

Just puhtending. Just pwaying.: Excuses for certain behaviors. Followed by a hard-to-resist grin.

White church.: Our church's downtown campus is in an historic, renovated, off-white-ish church building; we have recently begun attending services there, as it's much closer to our house and therefore increases the likelihood we'll be on time.

(Kidding. We are excited to meet and engage with more of our neighbors. But, seriously, every Sunday morning minute saved does help.)

When Mac visits our parents' churches, he tells people, "I don't go to your church. I go to a white church." Cringe.

We went to our 'old' church campus to volunteer last week, and Mac informed everyone we saw that this was not 'our' church anymore; we now go to white church. Fantastic.

Disclaimer: Grace Church welcomes everyone, and we're so glad for the mix of friends we have there. Just to split hairs, the structure itself is more an ecru than white, Mac.

Mac is a potty-training, boundary-pushing, story-inventing, kiss-giving, giggling, whining, thoughtful, sweet, curious hurricane of a boy. His appetite has me worried about how much milk, bread, peanut butter, yogurt and ground beef will cost when he's 15. We keep Jif in business.

He sings constantly, at least in the moments he's not asking, "Why?" His repertoire of songs expands hourly, and he adds his own invented tunes as well, to our neverending amusement. Mary Brooks likes his serenades best of all, and rewards our troubadour with sweet baby giggles and squeals. It's a delight.

Last night he asked me to close my eyes, and then he sang me 'You Are My Sunshine.' I nearly died, it was so sweet. How I wish I could record every.last.second. of such little memories. When he was done, he asked me to tell him it was a great song. I said, "Macky, that was a beautiful job. Thank you so much." He said, "Okay, but can you tell me it was a great song now?" Crazy little thing.

Mac's knack for impressions (every Sesame Street character ever) keeps me in stitches. His sensitive spirit keeps me intentional in the way I parent him.

His wild imagination ("My feet are named Dick and Sally, wike Cat in da Hat. Can you say dat, Mama? Can you call dem Dick and Sally?") and unique view of the world teach me so much about life from a child's perspective.

Last night he prayed for his grandparents and Mary Brooks, asked God to bless his tricycle, his frog potty and his dog bank, and then he thanked the Lord "for all dat I need." He may be silly, but sometimes he 'gets' it more than we grown-ups do.

He told me yesterday that he's two and a half, but he'll be three in October. He's so right, and he's a new boy every other week or so; I can't keep up.

Forgive the total mom post, but I already know how fast these memories seep out of my addled, rattled little brain. Thanks for letting me save a piece of him at this age.

How I'd love to freeze this sweet boy in time. Thank you, God, for my Mac. I pray every day to be the mom he deserves; I hope I can at least come close.