Mr. Nobody

My son, Andrew, is learning a poem called, "Mr. Nobody".

I know a funny little man,
As quiet as a mouse,
Who does the mischief that is done
In everybody's house!
There's no one ever sees his face,
And yet we all agree
That every plate we break was cracked
By Mr. Nobody

`Tis he who always tears our books,
Who leaves the door ajar,
He pulls the buttons from our shirts,
And scatters pine afar;
That squeaking door will always squeak,
For, prithee, don't you see,
We leave the oiling to be done
By Mr. Nobody

The finger marked upon the door
By none of us are made;
We never leave the blind unclosed,
To let the curtains fade.
The ink we never spill; the boots
That lying round you. See
Are not our boots they all belong
To Mr. Nobody.

One of the Mr. Nobodys in our house is... you guessed it... Peter! My mischievous 3 year old kept dumping the shoes out of the very large shoe box we have for all the kids to keep their shoes. With six children, the box is quite full. After the fourth time I found the contents all over the floor, I sought out Peter and asked him if he dumped out the shoes.

Very innocently he responded, "It wasn't me, mom!"

I replied, "I think you did it, Peter."

He said, "I didn't do it, mom!" Then holding out his hands towards me, "It was my hands!"

Don't forget to respond

My two year old is now three and continues to provide me with things to write about. I was trying to get my house ready for my tea party and was working on cleaning the living room when a projectile intercepted my leg. Feeling a bit stressed, I was more than a little annoyed at the brief pain I felt.

"Owww!" I said, looking for the source of my discomfort.

My son immediately said, "I'm sorry, mom!"

I hadn't noticed his playing in the room that I was trying to clean, but this brought the situation to my attention and I called my husband's name, hoping to get him to come and redirect my son's playing to another room.

My son burst into tears, ran to me and threw his arms around my legs, crying, "I said I'm sorry, mom, I said I'm sorry!"

He thought I had called his dad out to punish him, since I hadn't acknowledged his apology. I gave him some hugs and attention for a few minutes and sent him elsewhere to play. The heartache and time I could have saved by responding when he apologized to me, but really, this precious memory is priceless.