THBBM - Robert Young Would've Known

Robert Young Would've Known
Little goblin-to-be, I have something to amuse you...
6-27

Rain poured from the sky in diagonal sheets. The air blurry in the waterfall, bringing long shadows across the living room floor from the swaying trees outside.
That steady sound, like television snow.
: Kim was working late Wednesday night, somewhere in an office halfway across town. The boy and I were at home, waiting for the call to rescue her.
: We watched Toy Story as much as I could stand while Curren carefully pushed spoonfuls of Easy Mac into his mouth.
: The movie ended, and the rain seemed to die down a bit.
: I head into the bedroom, sort out basket load of dirty clothes from the hamper. The boy follows me through the hall, closing doors, happily chirping parts of words and bouncing around.
: As I open the door and the sound from the elements amplifies, he hesitates a touch.
: I ask him if he would like to help me with the laundry. He doesn't seem to register the question.
: I step though the doorway in example. He follows carefully, pointing out at the lawn.
"Rain," he says.
: The laundry room is part of the carport area. He likes to open doors, so I let him work the knob. It's a bit much for his small fingers, so I set the basket of clothes on the hood of my car and help him out a bit.
The door swings open.
: Once inside, I get him to open the door on the dryer. He spends a minute opening it, closing it, opening it again, slamming it shut. Doors are to a two-year old what power windows are for grown men.
: He opens the door again, but this time I lean my hip against it, keeping it from shutting.
: Leaning over to where he is; I say to him, "C'mon, would you like to help me do this? Look - here's what we do."
: I take the empty basket from the top of the dryer and set it on the ground in front of the open door. Then I reach in and pull out something.. a shirt. To help him understand things, I make exaggerated motions and I narrate the whole process. I reach in again, pull out something else, and then drop it into the basket.
: He watches carefully.
"Take this, and put it in here." I say slowly.
"Take this, put it in here"
: I reach in again and get out a sock, which I hand to him. He looks at it for a moment, then back at me. I smile and say:
"Take this..."
: Cautiously, as if he's worried it's all a trick and something's going to jump out at him, Curren turns to the laundry basket. He bends at the knees, and almost lovingly sets the sock on top of the growing pile. He examines his work for a second, and then turns back to find me smiling.
: He smiles back.
: I reach in to get a shirt. He leans in and takes it from my grasp.
"Take this," I say.

"This..." he repeats, and carefully puts the shirt into the basket.
: The process repeats a few more times, each with a more hurried pace on the boy's part. I try to help, but he's so enthralled with the project, repeating "this, this, this" over and over - that I end up being more in his way than anything else.
: I step back a bit and watch him, a satisfied grin on my face.
: It's hard not to feel good about yourself in these situations. There you are, patiently showing him what to do and how to do it, and then a moment later he picks up on the idea, and he's doing it!
: I mean, think about it... all it took was a couple of practice runs and he had the thing down pat. The kid's smart. A sharp kid like this could do all sorts of things!
Today it's helping with the laundry.
Who knows - maybe tomorrow it will be going to the bathroom on his own.
And then maybe I can get him to mow the lawn.
And take out the trash...

Wait a minute, what am I thinking? Why stop at that stuff?
I could show him how to throw a ball.
I could teach him the perfect low-post fadeaway jumper...
: "This, this, this…" he says happily, wrestling an orange T-shirt out of the dryer.
: Maybe I could even teach him about the benefits of multi-year guaranteed contracts and the importance of taking care of your parents when they get older....; While mentally planning all the details of his first free agent deal, I reach over and set the timer on the washing machine and push in the dial. Water starts to fill in the basin. I add detergent, and swish the agitator a couple of times.
: The dryer door shuts.
"All done?" I ask.
: He smiles back.
: I set the basket on top of the dryer, and then pick him up and hold him against my hip. He points at the open washer door, and says "Water."
: "That's right," I tell him. "Now hey, let's try something else here."
: Reaching into the basket, I pull out a garment and show it to him. Carefully, slowly I put it into the washer. "Did you see that?" I say.
"See?" I say, motioning towards the washer. "We take the pants, and we put them into that thing."
: A shirt. "Put it into that."
Pants. "Into that." I say.
I fish around the basket and pull out something lighter... a sock, and hand it to him.
"Put it into that," I say.
: He looks at me quietly.
"C'mon, buddy. Put the sock into the washer.. put the sock into that for me."
: He looks at me for a moment, and then leans forward. For a minute it looks like he isn't sure what to do. I almost start to say something, but then he slowly drops the sock into the rising water.
"Good!" I tell him.
: I reach into the basket and hand him a washcloth. He looks at it, and then leans over and drops it into the basin. I smile at him and cheer. "Now you're getting it, put the clothes into that!"
: He reaches into the basket and gets hold of a shirt, turns to the washer and drops it towards the opening. It misses a bit to the side, but I'm able to get a hold of it with my free hand and guide it back into the water.
"This." He says.
: "No, no... " I say. "Put the clothes into that."
"This..." he says again.
"That." I say carefully, pointing at the washer. "That."
: I ball up a shirt and hand it to him. "C'mon now, Curren. Put it into the washer."
: He drops the shirt in and says happily "this!"
: It's sorta funny, sort of exasperating. I point at the now sloshing water, showing him the shirt he just dropped into there being pulled under by the tide.
"That!" I say.
: He stays quiet.
"That!" I say a little louder, and point again to the orange shirt, barely visible in the sudsy water...
: Orange shirt?
: I look over at the closed dryer door, glance on top of the dryer at the basket of clothes we took out of there, and then slowly, almost in defeat -- turn to see the basket of actually dirty clothes still sitting on the hood of my car.
: The boy smiles at me, but says nothing.
Know-it-all.

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