Tovar: There's a Shoe Fly in the house!

Tovar apparently does not know that flies exist without shoes. He also thinks that Root Beer is pronounced "Root Beard," And that his Lexis toy car is A-Lexis: "Where's my A Lexis?"

Tovar is into being big lately. We were driving, and I pointed out the moon, which was low in the sky.

Dad: Look at the moon, Tovar, it's really big.
Tovar: Yeah, like me!

Tovar: (comes out of his room 10 minutes after he was put down for his nap, which has been a pattern recently)
Mom: Go to bed, now.
Tovar: *prolonged crying*
Mom: (comes back) Why are you still crying?
Tovar: I have an owie, I need ice!

Eventually I buckled and just gave him an ice pack, which settled the dispute, even though the wound was entirely emotionally based.

Tovar: Don't Laugh, Dada!
Dad: But I was laughing at-slash-with Mama!
Tovar: Don't laugh at-slash-with Mama!

Dad: And we take your arm out of your shirt...and your second arm out of your shirt...and your third arm out of your shirt (taking out Tovar's head).
Tovar: No! I only...I have...I have two hands!
Dad: But if you did have more hands, that would be cool, right?
Tovar: Huh?
Dad: Well, then you could hold more balloons at the same time!
Tovar: Yeah! (Kicking his arms, waving his legs, and yelling) Yeah, yeah, yeah!

In the car this morning on the way to the dentist...

T: Do you like my eyes, Dada?
P: Uh...yes, I do. Why do you ask?
T: *shy smile*
P: Do you like my eyes, Tovar?
T: Noooo!
P: Ouch! Well, whose eyes do you like?
T: Mama's!

He frequently complements his nannies on their clothing, hair and eyes. Where does he get it? I didn't start flirting until I was 12 or 14 - he's 3! Shannon & I don't say things like that much...not sure where he is getting it. Very entertaining, if a bit precocious.

x-posted from Patri's journal: http://patrissimo.livejournal.com/912321.html

Tovar: I planted a garden for you Mama!
Mama: Thanks!
Tovar: Yeah, me and my brother and my sister and my other brother and my other sister!

Now if only we have such success in growing his non-imaginary family.

Tovar: (Talks about his adventures with Guum Guum)
Shannon: Who's Guum Guum?
Tovar: He's my brother.
Shannon: Who's Gime Gime?
Tovar: She's my sister.

Tovar: They give me hugs. I appreciate it!

Gime Gime showed up last week, and as noted, this evening we learned that Guum Guum actually is Brother, and Gime Gime is Sister. However, when posed with the question of "who is your sister?" Tovar answers Mar-gar-et, and sometimes when you ask him who these people are he says that they're his imaginary friends and giggles.

Tovar: (holding up toy): Its coffee
Mama: Oh
Tovar: Its not your coffee mama, its my and Guum Guum's coffee.
Mama: Gum Gum's coffee?
Tovar: No, Guum Guum.
Mama: Goom Goom?
Tovar, No, Guum Guum!
Mama: Guam Guam?
Tovar: No! Guum Guum!!!

After several more rounds I finally gave up. I think its an Amharic phoneme that I'm incapable of replicating.

Guum Guum is one of Tovar's imaginary friends, along with his non-existant brother and sister. He talks about all three of them quite a bit, and sometimes calls them and has conversations with them on the phone.

Today, when disassembling my desk, I found some blue goo stuck in some holes. Upon further inspection, it was actually dried Play-Doh.

I'm impressed to find it, given that Tovar has never (to my knowledge) made a mess of Play-doh in my room! The most fitting explanation that I can come up with is that he brought some Play-doh in specifically to put in those holes, and was very careful not to drop any elsewhere. Either that or he did it on someone else's watch and they did a very good job of cleaning the mess out of my carpet.

Today, on his 3yr old birthday, was the first time I've heard him describe an imaginary scene including many clearly connected parts. Talking with his babysitter Christina, who brought over special birthday paints:

Can you paint a pool over here? Draw a gate. Make a man to open the gate. Make a man to swim in the pool. It needs a boy. He needs sunglasses...

He's also learning to modify what he says his drawings are based on what they look like. Something that started off as a buggy turned into a duck, when the painting clearly looked much more like a duck than a buggy. Things typically shifted names up to this point too, but this time there was a likeness that I could see, whereas it seemed pretty random before.

P: "Don't say that."
T: "Don't say that!"
P: "Don't say "Don't say that!""
T: "Don't say don't say that!"
P: "Don't say "Don't say don't say that!""
T: "Don't say don't say...uh...that!"
P: Don't say don't say don't say...uh...man, I can't keep track of this anymore!

(later)

T: No!
S: Yes!
T: No!
S: Yes!
T: No!
S: Yes!
T: No!
S: Yes!
P (from the other room): Maybe!

Or should I say, conversations about themselves?

Daddy: You spilled Fresca on the couch, no more Fresca, I shouldn't have given you...

Tovar: I didn't spill it, it spilled itself!!

Tonight's bedtime routine tonight was greatly enlivened by a couple dozen rounds of "What shall we do with a sleepy Tovar?". The "chorus every other line" format led to quick learning and singing along, although Tovar was a little confused by my switch partway through from "Ear-lie in the morning" to "La-ate in the evening".

Mama was not a fan of my early verse "Change his diaper with a rusty razor", so after that I made it less traditional and more...um...toddler-appropriate.

Tovar & I go into the living room, where we see 2 chairs set up facing each other, presumably for mom's coaching business.

Tovar: Let's sit on the chairs! I'll sit on this chair, and you sit on that chair, and we'll talk!
Dad: Uh..ok. (sits) What shall we talk about?
Tovar: Umm....let's talk about seasteading!
Dad: (laughing) Ok, let's talk about seasteading. I like to talk about seasteading!
Tovar: I like to talk about seasteading too!
Dad: So...what do you have to say?
Tovar: Dada talk about seasteading!

And I did!

Tovar: Can I have some lotion?
Me: No, this is special cream for my ouchy shoulder.
(Tovar throws tantrum and starts screaming and crying about how he wants some lotion)
Me: Why are you crying about the lotion when you could be doing something fun? You could read a book, or jump off the cube, or go get some cars...
Tovar: Go get some cars!

And he did!

Towards the end of our parent/teacher meeting in preparation for Tovar moving up to the next classroom, Tovar is bored and drawing and the following conversation ensued.

D: "What's that you're drawing?"
Tovar: "This is a guy!"
Dad: "What kind of guy?"
T: "He is sad."
D: "Aww...Why is he sad?"
T: "He is sad about of talking"
D: "About not enough talking, or too much?"
T: "About too much talking!"
Teacher: "Ok, then, I guess we're about done here!"

(We all understood that Tovar was using the "guy" as a proxy for his feelings, and cracked up.)