Pockets

My boy has found his pockets. I now have to remember to check not just my husband's pants pockets before I throw them in the washer. Green Beans pants could hold any kind of precious object, or just something that will affect the state of the whole load of laundry, like a tissue or (horrors) a pen.

Early one morning after Green Bean woke up, he dragged a stool over to the Christmas tree so he could watch the automated Bambi ornament spin, and then he asked to get dressed. That was odd. He had never paid any attention to when he changes from pajamas to day clothes before. And we almost always wait until after breakfast. Mystified, I told him he would have to wait until after Peanut Butter woke up, because to go in the bedroom while Peanut Butter was sleeping would certainly wake him. Then Green Bean's reasoning became clear; "I want pants with pockets," he said.

Green Bean's favorite item to pocket is his daddy's cell phone. That way he has it on him at all times, and he loves to go around the house taking pictures with it. He has figured out that by pushing "Okay" twice he can take a picture of anything, and his photography skills have dramatically improved with practice. The phone's photo gallery first was filled with lots of black, blank pictures, because he paid no attention to lighting and got too close to the object he was trying to capture. But now the gallery is filled with colors and random snapshots of family members doing ordinary daily things. My Hero is glad he spends so much time taking pictures instead of pushing all sorts of buttons that change the entries in his "phone book" from, say, "Dad's cell" to "Dad's cellffffffhhh". It's risky to let him play with our cell phone, you say? Yes, it is. But Green Bean knows never to push the green button, and he obeys. He has pushed it once or twice, whether accidentally or on purpose, and the cell phone is taken away for a while, but he loves playing with it too much to make that mistake often.

Other things he has put in his pocket:
-a small purple stone given to him by the kind lady who does "Story Time" at the library
-all of our pens ("They won't all fit," I predicted. Why do I say things like that? He continued sticking them in one by one until they were all in there.)
-all of our chopsticks, which stick out of his pocket in the same manner as the pens
-my hair elastic
-a penny

He reminds me of Tom Sawyer and all the boys in that book by Mark Twain. It's a boy thing to do, fill one's pockets with treasures. And he's my boy.