Scientists Aren't People

I had an excellent evening with Cal.  Had someone told me it would turn out to be so excellent as we verbally battled in the car on the way to his swimming lesson, I would have rolled my eyes and dismissed everything else that person told me.  He didn't like the nutrition bar I had given him to satiate his hunger and made that clear; and when I told him it was his only option, he whined and whined some more.

The evening turned on a dime once we entered the swimming facility.  Cal had a fantastic lesson which was followed by a fantastic dinner at what's become our favorite post-swimming-lesson food joint (Nicky's), and this was followed by a discussion about things I'm afraid of.  We had seen three police officers at Nicky's, and I had asked Cal if he wanted to say anything to them.  He shyly responded that he didn't, and this led to my suggesting he was afraid.  "I'm not afraid," he insisted; and this is how we got on the topic of the things I'm afraid of... heights, like when I'm standing on a tall diving board... clowns, all clowns... small spaces, like in a box barely big enough to fit me... and public speaking, like speaking in front of a bunch of people.  I told him that even though I'm afraid of them, I've done some of them.  And then he still insisted he wasn't afraid of talking to the police officers.

Anyway, once we were home, we quickly made our way upstairs to go to bed.  Cal announced that he'd go to the bathroom before brushing his teeth because "once I'm done brushing my teeth I won't have to go potty because I already went."  While he did that, I peeked in on Ella who was still awake and wanted to give me "a kiss and a hug."

Cal and I then headed into his room where I told him that he could pick one book to read tonight.  He chose his Book of Dinosaurs.  I like this one.  It's a thick-paged reference book with a perfect amount of dinosaur information to understand and retain.

When I was done reading it to him, we had this conversation:

Me: "So, Cal, we know about dinosaurs by studying their bones and fossils. People and dinosaurs never lived at the same time. Isn't that amazing?"

Cal: "No, scientists studied dinosaurs. They were alive."

Me: "Scientists are people, and people weren't alive when dinosaurs were alive."

Cal: "Scientists aren't people."

Me: "Hmm... what are scientists then?"

Cal: "Scientists are like God."

Me: "Actually, scientists are kind of the opposite of God. Scientists know things based on fact and science."  I just left it at that.

Cal: "We don't know any scientists.  Well, we know one."

Me: "What scientist do we know?"

Cal: "Uncle Perry."

Me: "You're right, Baby Bear.  Uncle Perry is a scientist.  Maybe you'll be a scientist, and then we'll know two."

Cal: "I don't want to be a scientist."

Me: "Why not?"

Cal: "Scientists are boring. All they do is study. I want to be a storm chaser."

I opened the book to the first page of the dinosaur book and re-read the statements about people and dinosaurs never living at the same time and scientists studying their bones and learning about them that way. He has a really hard time understanding this, so I thought a little reinforcement will help.

After that, I pulled his socks off his feet and was hit with a waft of his smelly feet, which was enough to hasten his going to bed. "Ew, get your smelly feet away from me," I told him.  He laughed and moved his foot closer to my face.  "No!" I exclaimed, laughing, as I exited.

As I tucked him in, we continued laughing about his smelly feet.  "You know what your protection would be if you were a dinosaur?"

"What?" he asked.

"It wouldn't be bony armor; it would be stinky feet," I said.  And then I took it a step further with, "If someone asks you what your super power is, you should tell them, 'my stinky feet!'"  We laughed some more.

We ended our evening by each admitting to the other that we know the other is turning on/off his closet light throughout the night. He wants the light on when he goes to bed, and we turn it off after he's asleep for the night.  Oftentimes, we'll find his light back on, either before we go to bed or the following morning.  Clearly, he's waking up and turning it back on himself.

"Mommy, I know you turn off the light. I turn it back on," he told me.

"I know," I responded.

"Yeah, you hear my footprints in the middle of the night," he said.

"Well, I don't really hear your footsteps. I just see the light on and I know that you turned it back on after I turned it off," I told him. "Sometimes we turn it off again after you turn it back on after we turn it off." It was a convoluted sentence that he got lost in.

"Mommy, I could fly to the closet and turn the light on and you wouldn't hear my footprints." He was getting creative.

"Well, I may not hear your footsteps if you flew to your closet, but I would hear your arms flapping," I informed him.

By this time, it was past his bedtime and time to put an end to the fun. I gave him my goodnight spiel, we exchanged kisses and we both ended our days with some pretty excellent smiles.