As I sit and rack my brain to come up with a topic to write about, I watch my 3-year-old entertain himself. The way his mind works is a mystery to me.
He can sit on his Smart Cycle and pedal as he just watches television.
He sometimes will sit with his sippy cup and watch a movie such as "Cars" for the 100th time and still laugh at his favorite parts. He even sings along. When "Life is a Highway" by Rascal Flatts comes on the radio, he sings along to it also and knows it is from the movie. Or "Marmaduke" from which he can give you quotes.
Little Man will play with his monster trucks for hours. Sometimes they go up hills, other times through tunnels. And when he gets Mommy to play, we have races to see which one is the champion. Let me say, it takes longer than you might think since we have to race ALL 94 trucks. Yeah, all of them.
Sometimes he will "read" his books with his Tag reader. He points the pen at the words, and it reads the book to him. On occasion we have tea parties with his kitchen set. Other times, he fixes anything and everything with his tools like Handy Manny has. He's fixed his bed, my bath tub and the refrigerator. They didn't need fixed, but it made him happy. Every time my husband is in the garage working on something, Little Man has to take his tool box and tools out to help. Once, he even helped nail boards to the wall with his nail gun that is just like Daddy's. Companies make tools that are so realistic. They are so real that when his chainsaw he got for Christmas didn't cut wood, he sent the blades to Pappy's house to be sharpened, because that's one of the things Pappy does. They came back as sharp as they had left, which means they still didn't cut wood. Little Man didn't like that much. He wanted to cut wood with Daddy, and his plastic saw just wasn't cutting it. No pun intended.
The past few days I have watched Little Man move dirt from one side of our walkway to the other. I have two holes that are filled with dirt, one on each side of the walk up to our house. They will one day be flower beds. Until then, they are "construction sights" for my son. As I sat on the porch watching, he'd load his John Deere wheelbarrow with dirt from one side and haul it to the other, which is not more than 6 feet away. Then he'd dump it, load it again and take it back to the other side. He did this over and over and over again for almost an hour.
During the summer, Little Man rides on his John Deere tractor the better part of the days. He will say "Let's go for a walk." What he really means is, you walk; he'll ride his tractor all over the place. His grandmother says his grandfather lives by the same motto: "Why walk when you can ride." He sure follows that. Heaven forbid you ask him to walk with you. The world is coming to an end if he can't ride that tractor. The tractor itself is less than 2 years old and has already needed a new engine and has a whole in the tire from overuse. At least we got our money out of that birthday gift!
Well, he needed one, too. Tractors are a big thing to have at the Letusick plantation. They say "the only difference between the men and the boys is the size of their shoes and the price of their toys." I tend to agree with that. My father-in-law rides a tractor to cut our grass. My husband rides yet another tractor to cut our grass (we have a lot of grass). And then there's my son, riding his little tractor following behind.
I wish I could ride on a tractor instead of walking. I wish I could sit and play with toys for hours. I wish someone would read to me.
Oh, to be young again.
(Letusick, a resident of Rayland, is a copy editor for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times.)