Fun with the J-man

I'm not sure what was in the air Tuesday night, but J had a flaming thermonuclear meltdown in the driveway after we got home. On the way home, we'd been talking about the moon and how you'd need a really tall ladder to get it down. J informed me that if he got it, he'd keep it and put it in his toy box. Anyway, he's just fascinated with the moon, has been for a while, but never like tonight. We stood in the driveway for a bit and looked at the moon, and that was fine. But when the suggestion was made that it might be time to go in and have dinner, you'd have thought J had learned there was no Santa, no Easter bunny, and that he was never having a birthday party again, the fit he threw. He was screaming, "nooooooo, stay outside!" and *running* away from me. My child was literally howling at the moon - great, I've given birth to a little baby werewolf. Once we were finally inside, J proceeded to prostrate himself by the door and scream that he wanted to go outside. He screamed at everything and nothing would settle him down. Finally, finally I convinced him to come into the laundry room with me, and I showed him that we could look out the window there and see the moon in the sky. He said, "Goodnight moon, night-night time" and walked away, problem solved. A good twenty minutes of emotional upheaval, and it was over in seconds. AARGH. This is what frustrates me so about my baby boy, that emotional nature. It makes no sense to practical, logical me.

But in other news: He and I were in the bed Tuesday night, reading his books. I read his Thomas' ABC Book to him, and as I was picking up another book, he said, "Read Thomas book." I said, no, we've already read that one, and he told me, "No, J read it." And he took his book and proceeded to open it to the first page and read it. "A is for all aboard, all aboard calls Thomas the Tank Engine. B for Bertie the Bus, Bertie is Thomas's friend, beep beep." He'd tell me word for word what was on the page. I realize that at this point a lot of it is memorization (although he's memorized so many books, that's pretty amazing in and of itself), but he knew what page he was on. If he skipped a page, he'd either go back to where he should have been or he'd read what was on the page he was looking at, instead of just parroting what he'd memorized as coming next. I could have just cried, I was so proud of him. My super-smart baby boy!!! I was reading at age 3, maybe he will be, too.