Booyah, Baby!


#5 always says “Booyah!” which makes me smile, he is sooo my kid. He’s almost 5 and he started singing everything, which I love. However, what I didn’t love (even though it was mad funny) was while we were sitting around the table eating our festive Friday night Shabbat (Sabbath) meal together as a family, my loony 5-year-old was running laps around the entire bottom floor singing, “I’m the fastest man in the world, eva, eva”, (aah the New Yorker in him). With a grand finale every time he’d plop in a sort of smash and roll onto the couch only to pop back up seconds later and start over, and over, and over. There was a day of singing, “Degel Yisrael” (which means Israeli Flag) over and over the same tune as “the fastest man in the world” song, and my favorite, the “booyah, baby” day.

He looks innocent – but he’s been wreaking havoc. We’ve played trains and cars and cards and blocks and built a zoo and a castle and read books. Everything gets tossed! Clean up has become a reinvented game. How many blocks can you throw into the bin? How many books can you carry to the shelf? We do a countdown…How many things can you clean up before I count to 10?  And so on…I asked him to count with me. I got a variation of 1,2,3,4,8,9,5 or 1,2,3,4,9,10, leben…we need to work on that.

He is the absolute love of my life (I say that about all my babies though) and I just want to kiss his face all day and we have come to a standstill here. He refuses to let me kiss his nakey (which means his skin). I am a repeat offender though, he gets pretty mad and points to the top of his head and shows me a visual of where I am allowed to kiss. I ignore him and then he gets more upset which secretly makes me giggle inside…does that make me evil?

There are days, even though I absolutely adore him that I am not pleased. Like the Bar Mitzvah picture day. He ran around refusing to settle down (what, you say? he’s normal??? I say boo, anyway). I just wanted a nice shot of all of us and when I begged him with the promise of lots of gumballs – this is the picture I ended up with.

Yes, that’s him there on the left. His whole body language, anguished pained look on his face tells all. He’s 5 and just wanted to run around. I’m not. I just wanted ONE BLEEPING NICE PICTURE!

He is in this in-between stage. He wants to do everything himself, he needs my help because he caaaaan’t by himself. Here is a classic example:

Mommy: Yes, you can go to the bathroom yourself

#5: No, I need your help.

Mommy: Fine, let me just  flick the light on.

#5: No, I can do it by myself.

Mommy: Because you’re so big.

#5: Yeah, I’m so big.

Mommy: You’re so big, you can even go to the bathroom by yourself.

#5: No, I’m little.

Mommy: I’m confused. You just said you were big. 

#5: I’m little for the toilet and big for light, okay?

Mommy:  Okay, I got it. Are we done here? Can I flush now?

#5: I can flush. I’m big to do that.

Mommy: Okay let’s wash up. I’ll move the stool over.

#5: I can get it, I’m big.

Mommy: I thought you said you were little

#5: Mommy, c’mon I’m big for that, you know I am.

Mommy: Fine, I’ll just turn the water on.

#5: I can DO IT!

Mommy: You’re not letting me do anything. You’ve done it all, because you’re so big. Why am I even here?

#5: Because I need you. I’m little.

So even though I was completely and utterly frustrated, I loved that last line and went overboard with the kisses. He needs me. He hated the kisses on his nakey. But he giggled through it with an angry face. His fake angry face.

In the end I was pleased with the fact that we got one picture that I could say without editing I’ll keep for the wall. It’s not perfect. The Bar Mitzvah boy lost it after the zillionth shot. It’s going on the wall anyway.

Booyah, Baby!




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