Everett-isms

On Sunday I was talking to a friend of mine after Relief Society when we were interrupted by the fire alarm. We chatted for a few more seconds until she mentioned that she'd better go check on her boys. Her son, she said with a loving sigh, was probably the one who did it. I asked if he had pulled the alarm before, and she said that he hadn't--but it sounded like something he was likely to do. I smiled and went to find my own family members, who were already outside. As soon as Joel saw me, he said "Guess what Everett just did?"

Given the context of the situation I didn't really need to guess. Yes, that's right. Everett was the one who pulled the fire alarm at church. (That's about how my entire weekend went. How was yours?) The bad thing is that he didn't have better timing. I could have gotten out of Sunday School!

Today we bought Everett a new bed off craigslist (I know what you're thinking--don't worry. It had only been used by one little girl with a waterproof pad, and was an absolute steal.) I didn't feel like telling the aging man and his daughter who dropped it off--and who mentioned some back problems--to carry it up our stairs, especially since they delivered it for free, so he set it down in the living room. I figured I would just wait until Joel got home and ask him to carry it up then.

But later I walked by that bed and decided that I didn't need to wait for anyone to help me. It isn't that heavy; it's just a twin mattress!

I looked at Everett and said, "I think I'm going to carry your bed upstairs. Do you think I can do it?"

"No mommy," he replied soberly, "I think you need somebody to help you."

I laughed and told him I was going to do it anyway. Everett's eyes lit up suddenly and eagerly.

"Mommy!" he said, "I can help you! I can do it because I'm very strong!" His clenched fists shook as he enunciated this statement with a guttural growl. I told him that he certainly was very strong and that yes, he could help me. Satisfied, he went over and grabbed the other side of the mattress.

"You know what, Everett? I'm strong, too. We can do it." I want Everett to think I'm strong and capable for as long as possible before he wisens up.

We carried that bed up the stairs together, and it was pretty easy. I brought it up quickly so Everett had to let go and follow a few paces behind me rather than hold the mattress. I didn't want to risk it falling on him.

"Are you helping me, Everett?" I asked with a laugh.

"No, Mommy!" he answered honestly. "I'm trying to but you're going too fast!"

Once we got the bed set up, he was so excited about it he wouldn't let anyone touch it. I resorted to turning a TV show on for him while I got his room organized. When Everett came back in a few minutes later, he was very displeased to see the items I had thrown on his bed in my organizational jumble.

"Moooooommmmmyyyyyy! You're making a mess!" He exclaimed woundedly. He began to throw everything off the bed. "You can't put all this stuff on my bed, Mommy. That's my bed! It's not your bed." He shook his head and glowered at me.

When Ashley came in later to play, she was very excited to see Everett's new bed. Unfortunately Everett was not excited to share it with her--at least not if it meant she looked at, touched, breathed on, or had too much enthusiasm about this very special bed that was decidedly not hers to admire. Once I cleared up the confusion that was Everett's stubbornness, organizing went underway and I was able to start getting things done.

Apparently Everett decided that it would be more fun to have Ashley as a playmate than to be alone with a non-interactive bed, because he adopted his commanding older-brother tone as he asked her to help him pile all the stuffed animals on the floor so they could jump on them from the bed.

"Okay," Ashley replied compliantly. She always replies compliantly when he is bossing her around, unless this means he is taking something that is hers. Then she erupts in an eardrum-bursting squeal.

Fortunately for my nerves (and my vocal cords), they played peacefully for the next while so I had an organized room and a pile of empty boxes to show for my time.

Seeing that it was getting time to throw dinner in the oven, I brought the kids down to the kitchen with me. I had to douse colossal melt-down after colossal melt-down from Everett for a while until he finally was inconsolable and buried his tear-flooded face in his arms. I offered to hold him, but he just ran away and threw himself on the floor in an emotional heap. I walked over, picked him up, and held him tightly as he thrashed for a few seconds, then waited until he relaxed and rested his soggy face on my shoulder.

"Everett," I asked, "Why are you so sad today?"

He looked up at me, his eyes so wet he had to blink several times before he could even see, and said tremblingly, "I sad because I want a friend to play with."

I felt sad for him, too. Change is not easy for Everett, so I have to prepare him in advance for whatever is going to happen in order to eliminate the surprise factor. Fortunately there is a little boy at church Everett has hit it off with, so I think we'll have him over to play tomorrow.

I am glad in many ways that Everett is still a little boy and needs my help with almost everything. He has a really tender side and I am interested in seeing how this will develop as he gets older, but I think I will always miss the days when a cuddle can fix everything.