When I was a stay-at-home mom, my youngest was about the easiest child to keep entertained ever. He was so weird like that.
Give him a box of blocks, and he would sit at the coffee table for hours, sorting them, rearranging them and constructing devices that I am sure had purpose in his little mind. This was great for me, because I could get a whole lot of stuff done while he was busy plotting his takeover of the free world.
The only requirement of his self-absorbed playtime was that I kept his DVD of the week playing on repeat in the background. He never really watched the DVDs, but something about the sound was of upmost importance to him. I am sure parenting experts were fainting in horror everywhere, but if it meant I could brush my teeth in relative peace, then I was all for it.
During one memorable November, my youngest’s favorite DVD was Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. He was a lot like Linus, with his quiet ways and blue blankie. For about two straight weeks, Charlie Brown Thanksgiving was on frequent repeat in our house, and I never thought anything of it.
But one day, I took him with me to meet my grandmother for lunch at a local diner. As usual, he was his quiet self, rearranging jelly packets on the table and pretty much ignoring the world around him. At this point in his toddler-hood, he barely talked, and certainly not to people in strange environments.
Well, lo and behold, as our food was delivered, the little heathen suddenly looks up, and busts out in a Peppermint Patty voice:
“Where’s the mashed potatoes…Where’s the pumpkin pie… what kind of a Thanksgiving dinner is this??!!??”
Please tell me you remember this scene:
Because I don’t think anyone else in the restaurant did…and that’s probably why they were looking at us like we needed some medication.