Butter thinks he can walk. And he grabs my hand every opportunity he can, and drags me into the kitchen to see the vacuum.
“Gakaah,” he says, signing vacuum.
“Oh, yes,” I answer. “Here is the vacuum.”
He grabs my hand again and drag me into the living room, where we have a throw rug.
“Gakaah,” he insists, signing vacuum again.
“Yes. This is where we use the vacuum. The vacuum goes here. Vacuum is all done and put away.”
He drags me back to the kitchen and shows me the vacuum. Pulls me to the rug, shows me where to use it. Back and forth until he gives up. Clearly, I’m too stupid to understand that we need to vacuum again. Every hour or so.
Poor guy. When Peanut was tiny I totally vacuumed several times a day for him because he liked it. Pretending to be daft is a coping mechanism I’ve built over the past few years. And I fear for poor Butter (and Peanut and Spouse) that it’ll only get worse.
Never thought my highest aspiration would be acting thick. Oh well. It’s nice to be good at something.
NaptimeWriting 
Sorry Peanut, I’ve gotta let you go. Your political reasoning skills were handy and most educational, but my boss and cronies literally need their sorry asses to be dragged, physically, into action. Physical positioning, spatial know-how, and orienteering are much-needed skills now for the company’s success.
Yo Butter, I have a new opening in my office for Supervisory Ass Dragger. Your spatial abilities, finger-pointing, and ass dragging skills are *exactly* what I am looking for. YOU ARE HIRED. Get me your paperwork asap, and I’ll get you setup with a GPS tracking system.
I don’t think that acting thick is too much of a stretch for me these days…The blank look I give is usually much better than the ones I receive as I bark commands…At least I am still better than them at something, however pathetic…Oh, the depths to which children take you… (sigh)
I kind of like the sound of the vaccuum game. At least it accomplishes something (i.e., clean floors). The over-and-over game we played here…well, the BOYS played here…was “watch me fling this off the high chair”! Toy? Food? They didn’t care. DOWN IT WENT…accompanied by a baby laugh. Every time. Which made for dirty floors. Sigh.
jc, he will GLADLY hook you up. He often starts pushing furniture (dining room chairs, mostly) and turns to look at me, waves, and motors on. I holler, “Bye! Don’t forget to write! Call when you find work!” He smiles, knowingly, and heads, I now know, to your place.
Maria, maybe you could try on your three what Butter tries with me to wipe the faux stupid off my face: pull their hair, hard, and bite their faces. It certainly gets a response out of me.
Ink, I hate to laugh, but both my boys had a cleaner take. Peanut never ate until he was well past the gravity-fascination phase. So no food throwing. Butter eats one, drops one, eats one, drops one, then claims to be “all done!” He then gets down and immediately eats everything off the floor. Messy-ish, but nothing to step on or clean up before the bi-nightly steam mop. It’s the chunks I mind, and he takes care of ’em post haste.
jc, I love the way your mind works!
I think I had too many children in too short a time, without any help. I suppose my coping mechanism wasn’t as creative but it did the job. I just said, “no.”
I play dumb all the time. I don’t remember how to get to chuck e cheese for example.
Sadly, I don’t have to play dumb. My kids outsmarted me a couple of years ago…
Ha ha! Well, at least he eats them off the floor afterwards… ;)
I think the vacuum game sounds adorable. At your house. I’m sure I’d be stark-raving mad if such shennanigans went on over here, but hey, at least my house would be cleaner. Butters is so clever.
I can’t believe that he’s walking already. Now is the time to get him his own vacuum. Or, very soon, you’ll be able to hand him the vacuum and he could end up cleaning the house for you. A new generation of men who love to clean house, starting at your house, imagine that!