When I woke Zane from his nap this Sunday, he was incredibly fussy. Normally I would not have awakened him, but he'd been asleep for three hours and I just didn't want to be trying to get him to sleep at 10pm. I picked him up and brought him downstairs. He was crying those hiccupy-coughs.
"What would you like, Zane?" I was trying to distract him from whatever he was crying about. Sometimes that works. This time it didn't. "Do you want a...biscuit? ...toast? ...pizza? ...banana? ...juice? ...hundred bucks?"
I just kept naming items, whatever came to mind. Zane seemed to mumble something, but since it didn't appear to be English, I kept going. Zane was getting more upset, so I went back over the list, twice, then asked his father if he knew what Zane was saying. His father did not know, either. Finally, after many tears, mostly on my part, I discovered that Zane wanted a...banana.
Crap. I was just randomly naming things that popped into my head! We didn't have any bananas in the house! Ack!
"Are you SURE that you want a banana, Zane?" In my head: "Please say no, please say no, please say no... But you know what happened. He wanted a banana. So he carried on a nicely dramatic fit worthy of the Academy award, until my husband finally went to the store and got him some bananas.
Which he then said that he didn't want.
GAH! KIDS!!!
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