Despite my ever growing conviction that I have no idea what I'm doing with this wild spark of a child, and a persistent fatigue of mind and spirit, there has also been laughter. For example:
In our bathroom we have a vanity that breaks up the reflection into three distinct parts, two of which are large enough to see face and shoulders clearly. The third and lowest mirror is little more than a narrow strip of decorative glass, not intended for practical use. The other day I was doing something at the bathroom sink, and Trooper was, of course, in there with me. He was trying to talk to me, but he began to get frustrated. "I can't see my face!" he complained, moving around to try and find a way to meet my eyes in the mirror.
In a moment of evil genius, I gasped in alarm. "Oh, no! It's gone!"
Trooper shrieked, "What?!" He jumped up and down, grabbing at his face in a panicked attempt to find it. For just a moment he was terrified that he had somehow lost his beautiful, googly-eyed face, and instead of feeling bad about my little prank, I laughed my head off.
Soon after breakfast one morning, Trooper was, as usual, causing some sort of mayhem or another. I, as usual, repeated some sort of instruction or another as I was walking by him. I don't know if his sudden gagging fit was in response to my instruction, or if he just randomly had a flashback to his time on the Star Destroyer, but before he could fall to the floor in feigned Darth Vader strangulation, his gagging triggered a real gag. I heard the difference in the sound and turned around to see if he was ok, but I shouldn't have worried. He was chewing away, and when he met my eye he said, "I'm back to eating my egg."
Trooper and Jonathan were playing a game where they pretend to snatch pieces of each other's faces and eat them or trade them. Trooper grabbed Jonathan's beard to 'steal' it, and Jonathan said, "Don't pull on my beard, I need it to hold on my 'yips' ('lips' in Trooperish)."
Trooper smiled, but I interrupted the game with this philosophical question: "Trooper, what's holding on your lips?"
His smile faded into a confused frown as his hands left Jonathan's face and began prodding his own mouth. "I don’t know?" he said, pulling at his upper lip. "My mustache?"
I should be nicer.
Me: OK, go get dressed and I'm going to use the bathroom.
Trooper: Be careful. Don't stick your head in the toilette.