Manners Police

For a long time now Gage has had high standards for manners - for himself as well as for others. It cracks me up that such a little kid wants things so orderly, but that's how he's always been. I have a video of Gage at maybe 18 months putting his milk cup on a coaster on the coffee table, turning to leave, turning back and pushing the cup to exactly the middle of the coaster. Only when it was perfect was he satisfied.

Tonight he couldn't sleep and he heard me puttering around in the kitchen, making a blueberry coffee cake. He asked to come help me and it was one of those days when the right thing to do is say Yes. So he helped me sprinkle blueberries on the top of the cake, then cinnamon and sugar. After we put the cake in the oven we sat on the couch to share the last 3/4 cup of blueberries between us.

Gage likes the sweet ones, and I like the sour ones. We spent a good ten minutes snuggled together on the couch...he'd take a little bite of each blueberry. "Sweet" ones were popped into Gage's mouth and he poked the "Sour" ones into my mouth. While he was busily sorting through them I brushed his bangs away from his eyes, told him that I miss seeing his eyes because his hair is getting so long.

"I like it long," he said. "Sour." I accepted the blueberry from him.
"I know you do now," I said. "But you might change your mind."
"No I won't," he murmured in a sing-song voice. He took another little rabbit bite from a berry. "Sweet," he smiled. "I'm really good at this," he observed unselfconsciously. The next one was sour. He watched me eat it, and the Manners Police descended.

"Um, excuse me," Gage said.
"Yes?"
"You were chewing that with your mouth open a little bit. I could see a peek of it."
"Oh, goodness," I said. "I'm sorry for my bad manners."
"It's all right," Gage smiled supportively. "Everybody makes mistakes." He popped another blueberry into my mouth. He kept his eyes on me and pressed his own lips together, silently reminding me how to chew. I chewed obviously and with tight lips. "Good," he smiled. "Now you're doing a great job."

It makes me laugh that he's so parental at these moments. We are almost always happily secure in our roles. He and Lila know they're the children, and Mike and I know we're the parents. There's no doubt about that. But Gage won't hesitate to turn a teaching moment around in your face if you seem to need it.

He's such a sweet kid, and so empathetic. But if you dare to put your feet on the table in my house be prepared for a stern talking-to from my nearly-four-year-old.

And talk with your mouth full if you want. But do it at your own risk.