“I tant wait daddy tome bat eh doe tar wash.” Thomas can’t wait for daddy to come back so they can go to the car wash.
Gregg was oobseeeessed with washing his truck. Every other freaking day he would leave to go to the car wash. It was his thing and he would always tell Thomas he was going to the car wash and they would both be weirdly excited about it, because boys and their trucks. Sometimes Thomas went with him. I’m glad he remembers this. I told him that someday, daddy will take him to the car wash, but for now he’ll have to settle with me taking him. In the not-so-pretty Scion XB we’re borrowing from my parents. On a rainy day, because I love him and $3 car washes are cheap entertainment.
“Mom, where daddy doe?” He wants to know where daddy went.
This is a frequent one. How does one explain Heaven to a toddler? I tell him daddy’s in Heaven with Heavenly Father, Jesus, Nana Kathy, Uncle Alik, and Uncle Dave. He usually just says, “otay” and continues to ask me for treats. Pretty sure he’d be satisfied with any answer at this age. It’s only awkward when he yells it to me from across the playground and I have to choose whether to yell back, “Daddy went to Heaven” in front of an audience, or ignore him until he doesn’t forget about it and only continues to ask louder and louder until we have an even bigger audience. Then I have to answer in case anyone’s thinking his daddy went to jail or, like, to Paris with his mistress or something. Because, of course, their minds would immediately go there.
“Mommy, we dot doe get daddy.” He wants to go get daddy from Heaven.
Me too, kid, me too. I always tell him that in a really long time, he can go see daddy. This one is harder because, true to his toddler-hood, he wants to go NOW. I’m actually kind of glad he doesn’t understand what it means to go see daddy in Heaven, though. I heard a story once about a kid with a disability whose parents told him that when he went to Heaven, his body would work like other kid’s. Couldn’t get him to wear a seat belt for a while after that. And really, I can understand that. Heaven does sound awesome.
*dials buttons on obnoxious play phone (I swear on the stars and the moon I will never buy an electronic toy again)* “Mom, daddy tant heaw me.” Daddy can’t hear him and doesn’t answer when the robot voice says “calling daddy” in a decibel loud enough to wake the dead.
I always explain that daddy can hear us, we just can’t hear him. That just results in him yelling, “hewo, dad, daddy, hewo!” It’s impossible to explain this to him. Heck, I can barely understand it. Do people in heaven actually hear us? Do they see us? I know I could look for answers in places where I know hold the truth, but that sounds exhausting and also terrifying. I’m afraid the answer would be “no.”