Worth 399 pennies

This afternoon Jett and I walked to the drug store to buy some last-minute supplies for the baby. Translated, this means diaper cream for the baby, and handful of toys to keep Jett occupied for at least the first fifteen minutes after we bring the baby home.

At the drug store, in on of my many lapses of judgement, I bought Jett this.



If you would have seen his face, you would have bought it for him too. He tossed the Elmo coloring book out of the stroller for this. He asked for it nicely. His face lit up. He said something about Daddy. He clutched it in his hands the entire walk home.

It's a complete choking hazard, and both the reclining seat-back and the movable kickstand have fallen off already. It was a foolish purchase.

After dinner Jett and I sat down on the kitchen floor to take a careful look at the motorcycle. We spent ten minutes looking at it from every angle. Jett talked about it the entire time - I just wish I knew what he was saying. I don't think we've ever had a conversation as long as this one, and never a conversation as serious. I swear he was pointing out every part of the motorcycle to me. The spinning tires, the movable handlebars, the kickstand, the taillight, the headlight, the engine, the everything. We talked about the color, we ran it over the floor and over our legs and up the side of the trash can. We took it to the bathroom with us to brush our teeth, and he held on to it through his diaper change, his change in to his pajamas, and through his bedtime stories.

Through the four bedtime stories we read (actually, we read the same book four times, at Jett's request), I kept reminding him that he couldn't take the motorcycle to bed, he can only take books to bed. Whenever I said that, Jett would pick up the motocycle, tilt his chin down, and look over his eyelashes at me with a little sly smile. I was steeling myself for an argument.

Finally when it was time for Jett to get in his crib, I suggested that he say good night to the motorcycle and put it away. He smiled at me and didn't move. So I suggested that he give the motorcycle a good night kiss and then put it away. That's when he surpassed my wildest expectations and gave me something to brag about.

Oh the sweet kiss he gave his motorcycle, barely there. Then the way he looked at me, like the three of us - Jett, the motorcycle, and I - were sharing a sweet secret.

I couldn't have asked for more. He got up, opened his bedroom door, and set the motorcycle on the floor outside of his room. He took two steps back, waved his hand at the motorcycle, and said "Bye-bye, Mo."

Then I put him in his crib, he went right to sleep, and once again, despite my poor decision making, I get to feel like the best mom in the world.