"Yes, Buddy, I Broke the Clock" and other Tales from Toddlerhood

I've been saving a couple stories up in my head to get down on paper one of these days before I forget …

While decorating for Christmas and rearranging the stuff on our mantel, I dropped our mantel clock that we got as a wedding gift.  I don't think it was particularly valuable (Pier 1, I believe) but I really liked the design and its been with us these seven years, so I was kind of oddly attached to it.  Not to mention, have you priced mantel clocks lately?  Nice looking ones are surprisingly pricey.  But that's not the point.

I dropped the clock in front of the ever-vigilant gaze of my two-year-old.  Not even thinking about how he might react to this event, I exclaimed, "Oh Benjamin!  I broke the clock" and I must admit that as I picked the pieces up off the floor, my voice got a little quavery.

And then Benjamin burst into a howl of tears like the world itself was going to fly to pieces.  "Money broke the clock! Money broke the clock!"  [he's been pronouncing "mommy" as "money" for several months now.  I don't how it started, but its totally endearing and I'm a little sad whenever he correctly pronounces it now.]

Anyway, I took him and sat down in the rocking chair, trying to explain that yes, Mommy did break the clock, but everything's OK, no one got hurt, nobody's going to get in trouble, etc.  It took him a few minutes to calm down a little and then, out of nowhere, he popped his head up and said, "I get scoo-dider [screwdriver]!  I fix it!"

So i thought to myself … none of the pieces themselves are particularly dangerous (I had already put away the loose screws and battery), so why not let him occupy himself with it and maybe i can get a few things done.  A few minutes later, i walked by his room to find him wandering around, wringing his hands as only a toddler can and repeating over and over, "Where scoo-dider?  I no know!"

Mommy helped him find his little toy screwdriver and as we sat down with the clock together, I thought I had chanced upon an excellent object lesson, so I commenced, "Buddy, ya know how Mommy is always saying to be careful and gentle with things?  Well, this is why.  Because things get broken when we're not careful and sometimes they can't be fixed."  I persevered despite the fact that his response to every statement was "Money broke the clock!"

For the next two hours, that was basically the only thing we talked about.  "Money broke the clock!  Money broke the clock!"  Yes, darling, Mommy broke the clock … can we move on, already???

Then Daddy got home, dinner was on the table, evening activities hastened on, and before I thought to pre-warn my sweet husband, he saw the clock pieces and said, "Hey!  What happened to the clock?"

"Money broke the clock! Money broke the clock!"  for another good hour.

He still mentions it from time to time.  Oh goody.  Another thing he can tell Dr. Phil about someday.

I bought a replacement clock (A wall clock this time, so not as much chance to drop it), but I'm afraid to  hang it because every time he sees it … yup, you guessed it … "Money broke the clock!"

(More tales to come…)