At two years old, Thing 3 was using the computer himself, finding and opening the programs he liked using the mouse after watching me do it a few times. Now he breaks through the child protection lock on the office door, climbs up to the desk, and opens the MS Paint program and makes a drawing.

Thing 1 and 2 have been playing games and checking sports scores on my iPhone for years. They know how to take pictures and scroll through the albums.  I have found a picture of Thing 2’s butt on more than one occasion.

It took a month of serious practicing for me to finally beat Thing 1’s high score on Fall Down. They both routinely beat me at most Wii games and at 5 and 6 years old have figured out how to do things on the Wii I can’t follow. The ease with which they surpassed me was unnerving, considering I pride myself on being a bit of an expert having spent much of my youth playing Atari. Not to mention I happen to program computer software for a living.

This morning we were unsure if we needed to pack lunch for Thing 1’s field trip. While I debated making lunch just in case, he said: “Why don’t you just email the teachers and find out?”

And when he asks me a question I can’t answer, which is often, he says: “We can Google it.”

I suppose it’s the same as when I was a kid and my parents needed me to program the VCR.  So now I am the modern day equivalent of a VCR blinking 12:00.

Rather than breaking into a tantrum because he wants Apple Jacks instead of Fruit Loops, or the green bowl instead of the blue, or because he only will wear white socks, we want him to just say what he wants. I’m more than happy to give him the green bowl.

So we encourage him to use his words. At preschool they do the same, teaching the kids to say “Don’t hit me” when their friends hit them, instead of hitting back.

He is making progress and often uses words instead of a tantrum. But sometimes he uses the wrong words for the situation and the results can be quite entertaining.

In one situation at school, he didn’t like what was for lunch so he said “No, don’t fight!”. The teachers were a little puzzled until we explained he says that when he doesn’t like something. He probably picked it up from me telling his brothers to stop fighting a hundred times a day.

Then, in another situation, he mentioned something about Mommy picking him up. When the teacher said Mommy wasn’t coming until the afternoon, he said “No, Don’t hit me!”

Now the teachers were a little concerned. When he talks about Mommy, he uses words about hitting and fighting? They asked if anything is going on at home.

This wasn’t the only time “Don’t hit me” may have concerned someone. When we are out, and Thing 3 is doing stuff he shouldn’t be, like knocking everything off the shelf at the supermarket, and we ask him to pick it up, his response is “Don’t hit me!”. You can see how someone passing by might get the wrong idea.

Still, words are better than tantrums. Even if they aren’t the right words.

“Don’t throw your toy or it will break and we’ll have to throw it away. Is that what you want?”

“Nooo!”

Or when he doesn’t want to leave somewhere:

“OK. I’m leaving without you. Bye”. I usually start walking away for added effect, and after 10 seconds he gets upset and comes running.

It’s a strategy which generally works well, but now I think Thing 3 is onto me.

He insists on standing on his chair at the kitchen table. Literally, every 30 seconds I’m saying “Sit down” and he may or may not listen.

So I tried the idle threat strategy.

“Do you want to fall down and get a boo boo?”

It’s actually not idle, because he has actually fallen down on more than one occasion from standing on the chair, and got hurt. So I know he knows what I’m talking about.

His response: “Yes”

“You want to fall and get a boo boo?”

“Yes”

What do I possibly say to that?

Thing 3 does what I call a running commentary about nothing. Whatever pops into his mind cones out in words.

“Wow! A rock. I don’t like that. I eat feet.”

The “I don’t like that” comes out often because it’s being taught at preschool as a way to use words to express himself instead of having a tantrum.

I generally don’t pay much attention to his constant stream of consciousness. But sometimes you need to play close attention to what’s being said because it can be a clue to something important going on. Like a bad home environment or physical abuse.

Which brings us to Thing 3’s latest phrase he’s learning by using in all the wrong places. At preschool the children are taught to use their words, “Don’t hit me”, when their preschool friends hit them, instead of hitting them back.

Now, whenever you touch him, he responds with don’t hit me. When I go to comb his hair – don’t hit me. Change his diaper – don’t hit me. Put on his shirt – don’t hit me.

First it was the unexplained scratches all over his body (he likes to walk in the bushes), then the bruises (he jumps off everything), and now he goes around saying don’t hit me when anyone comes near him. It’s only a matter of time before someone assumes the worst and calls child protective services on me.

Thing 1: Daddy, Thing 2 peed on the floor

Me: How do you know?

Thing 1: He told me

Me: [to Thing 2] Did you pee on the floor?

Thing 2: No

Me: Did you pee on the floor?

Thing 2: Yes

Clearly he has no future as a spy and would never hold up under questioning.

Me: Where was it so we can clean it up?

Thing 2: I don’t remember

There are dozens of conversations like this every day. To me, this is completely normal.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 were discussing football on the way to school one morning. It’s about all they discuss these days.

Look, there’s a red car…they must like the Chiefs. Or, it’s 7:49. 49ers!

On this particular morning, Thing 2 said his friend, we’ll call him Bobby, doesn’t know anything about football. Bobby probably doesn’t know about football since he is 4 years old and doesn’t have the, uh, benefit of a big brother who is obsessed with the topic.

Thing 1 got very upset. He was on the verge of tears. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Why did you say that!? Bobby is your BEST friend. Why would you say he doesn’t know anything about football?”

Apparently, in Thing 1’s football circle of friends, this is the meanest possible insult to someone. Even worse than the “your mom” classics I remember from when I was about that age.

Thing 2: Why did the chicken go in the pool?

Why?

Thing 2: Because he wanted to go down the drain

Ba dum bump!

Thing 2: Why did the chicken go to the barn?

Thing 1: To see all the animals?

Thing 2: [cracking up as he says it] Because he wanted the animals to bite off his booty.

“Where does snow come from”, “How do airplanes fly?”, “How does Santa go to every house in one night”, “How many points do you get for a touchdown”.

These are very important questions that I’m happy to answer. I enjoy the challenge of coming up with an answer they can understand.

Then there are questions you don’t want to hear.

We were driving home from school one day. All 3 Things were in their seats, watching the TV, quiet and tired from their day. Thing 2 broke the silence, out of the blue, and asked a question.

“What’s a pussy?”

Umm. Gulp. My mind was racing for an answer. I stalled. “What did you say?”

As innocent as can be, “Pussy. What is a pussy?”

Then, I realized what they were watching on the TV. Sylvester and Tweety Bird. Sylvester is a cat. A PUSSYcat.

Whew. Dodged that one.

Out of nowhere, Thing1 was on the verge of tears. Very upset.

SuburbanDaddy: What’s wrong?

Thing 1: (tears in his eyes) He is talking so loud I forgot what was going to say.

Thing 1’s pick: 36-24 Colts
Thing 2’s pick: 30-20 Broncos

Have you noticed they always seem to pick the opposite of each other? Picking football games, like everything else, is yet another opportunity to compete against your brother. Just like the race to get out of the car, finish eating, get a toy, or virtually anything else they do together. Despite my best efforts to tell them otherwise, everything is a competition.