You Have A Big Belly

We were dancing to Madagascar's closing credits ("I Like to Move It").
I was showing off some of newly learned Zumba moves.
Between gleeful spins, Miles looked at my belly and said, "You have a baby in dare?"
And I said nooooooooooooo.
"You have a big belly, " Miles observed, squishing and kneading my post-pregnancy boingy abdomen.
I had been pretty cranky all morning. Baby Charlie is sick and fussy. I had also learned Miles's pre-school was closed due to a pending snowstorm. I was bummed, I was looking forward to work. I was not so good being flexible today.
But in the thick of my hissy fits, I kept thinking, Thank God Miles is old enough to stay glued to the TV/DVD player while I shower. How do some women have kids 15 months apart? How do some women have three or more? I'm struggling today and my worst news is that I get to play hooky.
Back to dancing in front of the TV:
"Mommy, you put another baby in dare?" my dancing son inquired again. Actually, it sounded like a request.
"Miles do you want another baby in there?"
I knew the answer. He doesn't like sharing my attention with his six-month-old brother.
"Yes!" he answered, surprising me.
"What would you call your new brother or sister?"
"CaitlinMelissa?" (Caitlin is his out-of-state girlfriend, Melissa is her 15-month younger sister.)
"No, just Caitlin," he corrected himself.
"But if you had anudder one we could call her Melissa too O-tay? I yike to move it, move it!"
I left him right there on our living room dance floor to email Caitlin and Melissa's mom.

En Dog!
This is another example supporting my theory that Miles has hearing dyslexia.
En Dog is the command my pre-scooler gives when he grabs a sword or stick, adopts a fencing pose, and challenges me to a duel.

Miles the Sinus Kid

"Mom!" Miles said, beaming, his hands on my shoulders, his face five inches from mine, "I can see my whole head in your black eyes!"

Miles, for the first time, beheld his reflection in my pupils.

Miles just threw a dozen cotton balls on the floor.
Standing on one foot he asked,
"Want to play hoch-stops?"

Dawexit?

We pass by the trolley museum everyday. It is a landmark in my town.

I asked Miles yesterday to tell me the name of this place packed with electric street cars.
He said, "Train me-USE-m?"

My genius boy, my nearly four-year-old, can read, obviously--I established this many blog entries ago. But could he be hearing dyslexic?

There is a show on public TV called Sid the Science Kid.
Miles calls it Sinus Kid.

He tells me he likes to practice gymnastics. Praxsis gynaxsim.

There are more, I just can't access examples now.
And heck no, I wouldn't dream of correcting my little dyslexic genius.

Not knowing how to end this entry, I just asked Miles to say dyslexic.
"Dawexit!" he said with confidence.