As previously told, Dylan was not above a good snit fit. However, what he is most remembered for is his curiousity. I'm not sure what it was about stores, but he seemed to do some of his profoundest thinking there, coming up with the most outrageous questions. And once he had his question, he was relentless. He could not stop until his question was answered. He also had an amazingly shrill voice for a kid, and that voice carried. So we had amazing moments like this:
Mom (in a whisper): "Dylan, get your finger out of your nose."
Dylan (looking up at me with offending digit still buried): "WHY?"
Mom (heaving sigh): "It is not nice to pick your nose. Please stop it."
Dylan (having made zero changes to his appearance): "BUT I LIKE TO PICK MY NOSE, MOM..."
Walking behind his 8 month pregnant mother at the grocery store, a question has formed. "MOM!" he shrills. "I BEEN THINKING."
What happened next was my own darn fault. "What, hon?"
'HOW'S THAT BABY GOING TO GET OUT OF YOUR STOMACH?"
A few people around us titter.
Knowing that one question invariably leads to another, I do a stupid thing. I attempt to ignore him. He figures that I have not heard him, and begins to speak even louder.
"YOU DON'T GOT DOORS IN YOUR BELLY, SO HOW'S THAT BABY GOING TO GET OUT OF THERE ANYWAY!"
"Dylan, mommy will talk to you in the car, okay?"
Starting to get temper tantrum-y, he's now yelling "I WANT TO KNOW RIGHT NOW. WHY DO I GOT TO WAIT TIL WE GET TO THE CAR? HOW IS THE BABY GOING TO GET OUT OF YOUR BELLY..."
All of these events conspire to another day. Again, we are in the K-mart. Dylan is hanging off the front of the cart, in the check out line. I am at the back. His baby sister is in the seat. Dylan is unloading the things and putting them on the conveyor. This is his special job. He picks up a box of prophylactics and shrills "MOM? WHAT'S THIS FOR?" and the crowded line titters. I know the drill, so I quietly say, "We don't want more babies at our house." I figured that this was enough to shut him up, quietly enough said so that it would not draw any more laughter. Foolish optimist. Dylan looks at the box quietly for all of two seconds and then begins to wave it over his head yelling "I'M GLAD WE ARE NOT HAVING MORE BABIES AT OUR HOUSE, 'CAUSE I'M NOT SHARING MY ROOM WITH NOBODY." I lunged for the box as people laughed.
As previously stated, this boy has grown up. He now lives a long way from home. I've just about gotten over my fear of shopping.