Labeling

It's mid morning and Connor and I have chores to do. I have to fill the car up with gas and run to the grocery again. The gas station is at one end of the neighborhood and my preferred store is at the other forcing me to cut back through. This always causes a bit of a screaming session as he knows his way home from there. I get in the turning lane waiting on the light and a look in the rear view mirror tells me that he is getting ready to protest. He is looking around frantic. His mean Mother is going back home already! What about the store?

I have a moment of what I think is genius and decide since there is no traffic I will go to the next light and throw him off a little, screams and panic averted. I pull into the next light's turning lane and as we turn he starts to panic. This path has not gone completely past the putt-putt with the statues of elephants, giraffes, and zebras, but just barely put it within eyesight. I have not slowed down to talk about them and let him look or made any animals noises with him. This is not acceptable and will not be tolerated!

The tantrum is short lived and by the time we reach the grocery store he is perfectly fine. He holds my hand going in but releases it once we are in the first set of doors. The very wise people of this store put the gum ball and other candy machines at the doors as you enter instead the exit doors. I would think it should be the other way around allowing a parent to have a little foresight and gather change as they purchase their items. Knowing that this is how it is and little guy haven gotten into the routine I have my change purse filled with quarters. He stands in front of the one he wants and points "Ball"
"Honey, what is that?" I ask him because he is pointing at gum balls.
"Candy!" he says while making the sign.
He gets his earned treat and we do our shopping.

"Baby, Baby, Baby." I look to see where the baby is and see instead a little boy that looks to be a tad older than him. Connor is pointing at him and chanting "Baby"
This is something we have been trying to work on so I say "Boy" hoping that in getting him to stop calling children his own age babies, I might also get the added benefit of teaching him "Boy, Girl."

No matter how many times I say "Boy" I am answered back with "Baby" Afraid that we might hurt the little boy's feeling who is probably convinced he is a "Big boy" not a baby, I move on. We spend sometime in the pet department because he can see the sign from miles away.
"Wader" he points at the tanks.
"Whats in the water?"
"Feeesh!"
We move on to the hamsters "Squeak, squeak, squeak!"
Moving farther we come up on some Guinea pigs "Doggie! Ruff ruff!"
"Guinea pig."
"Doggie! Ruff Ruff!"
"No baby, Guinea pig" Oh damn, no wonder he calls kids his age babies.

I leave the pet department and check out as we make our way out he sees a soccer ball shaped balloon.
"Ball!"
"Good job, big boy!" Well what would you say?