Juma-isms

Juma usually wakes up around seven, then wanders into our bedroom with his watch to show there's a 7, the time when he can officially bug us to feed him breakfast.

Yesterday, though, he didn't come in and I didn't hear him in the bathroom or getting dressed. I figured he slept in, so I took advantage of it and stayed in bed until 8. When I finally got up, I found him in his bedroom, buck naked, sitting on the giant bean bag we inherited from Jody and Patrick, reading. "See me read. This is a 'K,' this is a 'T,' this is a 'A."

"Time to get dressed, Juma."
"I'm reading."
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On Monday, we were playing outside with his friend, but it was getting close to bathtime. I told Juma it was time to go in, but he resisted. I tried to give him a choice: come in now, or if you wait to come in, you'll get time out. He calculated for a second, and made his choice: "I'll take time out!" Playing for a few more minutes was apparantly worth the punishment. I retracted the offer.
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Yesterday we were playing outside, but he was getting fussy--hungry or tired, I don't know. He asked to go in. I told him, Sure, just go get your lacrosse stick and bring it in. He looked at me like a boss about to fire someone whom he will be secretly glad to see go, and said, "Mmm, actually, you're going to bring it in."

"No," I told him, "I'm not. You brought it out, so you bring it in."
"No, Mom. The rule is: who brought it out, doesn't have to bring it in."
"No, honey, you mess it up, you clean it up."

We compromised. He carried it to the door, and I carried it up the stairs.
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The three of use were snuggling in bed, and I kissed Juma on the head. "Mom, I don't want kisses. I only want kisses at night before bed and when you say goodbye at school. When my parents, you [pointing to Justin] and you [pointing to me] say goodbye at school. That's when I want kisses."