Punkin and I were watching a Winnie the Pooh show on The Disney Channel this
morning. It was about a lost reindeer needing to get back to the North Pole.
Anyway, all the sudden he goes, "Look, Mom! It's Santa!" I seriously didn't know
if he knew who Santa was, even though he watches Christmas movies ALL year.
Also, I think L mentioned this at the IEP, but I had never heard it. He looked
at his school picture and said, "Me. Punkin." And I still thought it was awesome
that when I brought in the lunch cart to P's room on Wednesday (usually E's
job), he said, "Uh oh. Mom, where's Mr. E?" There were some extra syllables in
there, but I don't think they were suppposed to be words. It was, "Where da da
da da Mr. E?"
Thanks for letting me brag.
What I didn't tell them was that on Saturday after this cute little revelation about Santa, Mr. Punkin turned into the Brat of the Century. Oh my. He and I got ready and drove to Oma's house to pick her up. Silly me, I forgot to warn him that we weren't going inside. Instead, Oma came out to our car and we drove to Target. He never actually said he wanted to go inside, but it was pretty clear that he was pissed. Every time Oma turned to talk to him, he yelled, "STOP IT!" and after a while refused to look at her at all. He fussed and hit himself and threw toys the entire 15 minutes to the store and then flopped around like a fish once we got there. Then on the way back, he said, "Downstairs," meaning, 'Let's go downstairs at Oma's and watch A Bug's Life.' So we did. And all was well again. Until he realized he was extremely tired from not taking a nap, grabbed his coat, and informed me that it was time to go home.