"Yellow bus" has now mutated into "white-yellow bus"

Now I know that Can is just messing with me. Mom brought the kids to Chapel Hill last Friday for a departmental Christmas party. While they were here they passed one of the blue and white buses that I ride to the park-and-ride lot and Can got to see it. When I met them coming in from the parking lot he said, "daddy white-blue bus." I grinned and said, "yes, daddy white-blue bus," thinking that I had finally won the argument and he was accepting that I ride a blue bus not a yellow bus on my way to work. This morning, as he was sitting on his mommy's lap trying to return from dreamland to reality, he started mumbling something that I couldn't hear very well. I moved closer to try and catch what he was saying and I heard, "daddy white-yellow bus." Aaargh. "Its not white-yellow bus, it is white-blue bus," I responded. That only got him going and he began chanting, softly at first but then louder and louder, "daddy white-yellow bus, daddy white-yellow bus..." I did the only thing I could, under the circumstances. I grabbed him and gave him a big fuzzy bearded kiss and said, "daddy softy face," before making a break for the front door. As I was closing the door behind me I heard him say, "NO, DADDY POKEY FACE."

A new greeting

The yellow bus/blue bus exchange between Can and I has developed into something of a greeting. The other day I came home from work and Can was sitting on the potty. He couldn't see me come in the door, but when he heard the door open he yelled out from his place on the porcelain throne, "DADDY YELLOW BUS." I of course responded in kind with a hearty, "NO, DADDY BLUE BUS." Then yesterday morning after he woke up, his mommy was carrying him from his bed. Through bleary eyes, he spied me said, somewhat less enthusiastically, "daddy yellow bus." I kissed him on the head and said, "good morning," to which he responded "daddy pokey face."

Aah, return of the bus color exchange

It was nice to return home last night and find Can feeling better and full of his usual cheer.

This morning he and my wife were leaving to take a friend to the airport, so I decided to be preemptive. I asked if he was going to go ride the blue bus. He responded with a well-conditioned, "NO, YELLOW BUS."

Poor sick Can

Poor Can is not feeling well today. His coughing kept him, and his Mom, up for much of the night. This morning he looked pretty miserable as he sat in the corner of the couch with his blankie. He didn't want to play his computer game or watch TV. I couldn't even goad him into arguing with me about whether the bus I ride to work is yellow or blue. He has only ever seen the yellow school bus that his brothers ride and I can't seem to convince him that my bus is blue (actually white with blue stripes, but lets not make this complicated). This has turned into a daily farewell exchange, where I put my coat on and he asks, "Daddy yellow bus?" I respond, "No, daddy blue bus!" and he comes back with an emphatic, "NO, DADDY YELLOW BUS!!" I'm sure it doesn't translate well into blog format, but it is amazingly cute to see in person. Alas, this morning the poor boy couldn't even muster up the strength to complain about my pokey-bearded kiss much less argue about the color of mass transit in Chapel Hill.