I replied, "To let in some fresh air."
Andy's face immediately fell. Panicked, he exclaimed, "Oh no! ARE WE RUNNING OUT OF FRESH AIR?"
The other other day, we went to the big aquarium in the sporting goods store, the one with the big glass walls and the open top. Chris was holding Alex and lifted him up ever so slightly to let him dip his fingers into the aquarium water. (Inadvisable, I thought to myself.) A moment later, Andy noticed and started screaming. "NO DADDY! A FISH IS GOING TO BITE ALEX! STOP!!!"
And then, the other other other day, we went to the pumpkin farm, where Chris wheeled Alex's stroller right up to the rickety cage walls of the goats in the petting zoo zone. (Inadvisable yet again, I thought to myself, noting the bevy of graham crackers and raisins on Alex's stroller tray and the hungry, trample-ready glimmer in the goats' eyes.) Andy immediately noticed that Daddy was being careless and said, "No, Daddy, move Alex back!"
"But I want Alex to be able to see," Chris replied, chomping on his own handful of popcorn and somewhat oblivious to the devilish, lip-smacking glare of one of the goats.
Andy pushed Alex's stroller back a foot or two. "No. He can see from back here."
And that same day, an hour earlier, we went to view the pumpkin-eating dinosaur. The pumpkin-eating dinosaur is an amazing, gigantic mechanical dinosaur that chomps and crushes pumpkins to the delight of the pumpkin farm guests, snorting out a menacing plume of smoke after devouring each and every pumpkin available. This may have been the most amazing attraction of the day. My parents came with us to the farm, and my dad remarked, "I think I've taken more pictures of this pumpkin eating dinosaur than my grandchildren!" and "This pumpkin-eating dinosaur is worth the cost of admission alone!"
But I suppose I can see how the pumpkin-eating dinosaur might be scary to a three year old, and when my dad lifted one year old Alex up on his shoulders, and when the pumpkin-eating-dinosaur had his head lowered to allow adorable Alex the chance to pet his snout, Andy screamed in terror while he watched, certain that the dinosaur was going to gobble his sweet little brother right up.
I have to admit, Andy- I was holding my breath on that one as well.
The other other other other day, I had my credit card declined at the pump while trying to get gas, so I ran into the station to try to have them scan it there, where it was also declined. Turns out, my number had been compromised and Visa had shut it down to prevent further fraud. (Sidenote: kind of socially mortifying when the Visa representative calls you to verify your authorized transactions and it sounds like this: McDonalds, Friday, $13. Wal-Mart, Saturday, $56. McDonalds, again, Sunday, $9. Back to Wal-Mart, Monday, $39. Dunkin Donuts for lunch, Monday, $15. I really wanted to explain to the guy that I'm not that kind of person that feeds my kids McDonalds, buys them sweatshop clothes from Wal-Mart, and then stuffs my own face with donuts, but the evidence was not in favor. It was a rough weekend, okay?) Anyway, Andy had a lot of questions when I ran back to the pump a second later, including, but not limited to:
Where did you go?
Why does your card not work?
Are we going to run out of gas?
What happened to your money?
Is our car still going to run?
Can I help you put gas in the car?
Where did you go?
Is everything okay?
Can I have a better explanation regarding why you left us here?
Do you want to buy me a Happy Meal?
***
It's interesting when I see myself in my children, in the moments of irrational panic exhibited by Andy that are so clearly Young Jackie. When Andy asked about running out of fresh air, I immediately thought back to when I was a kid and read that there was a finite amount of energy in the universe. Yes, we were running out of energy. In order to help the energy crisis, I sat very still for moments at a time, trying my hardest not to move or breathe or twitch or think. Andy has not quite reached that level of paranoid craziness quite yet, but he is only three, and there is time. I only pray that there is hope for Alex, who bravely pets the head of a pumpkin eating dinosaur as if not quite thinking the whole thing through. Keep smiling, beautiful baby. Keep smiling until you get it.
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