Thursday, December 6, 2007

Man on a Mission

My mom and Robb's dad work together, which means Tucker and Tyler have two grandparents to visit in the same office. We visit often, and when we are there, Tucker thinks he owns the place.

He can navigate from the car to the jar of animal crackers in their second floor exective suite without any assistance, were it not for my insistence to hold his hand in the parking lot. But he knows how to push all the right buttons to get him where he wants to go, including the handicapped accessible button that swings open the door, as if to welcome Prince Tucker.

And he knows how to operate the elevator. He pushes the button to call the elevator, then he trots right in and pushes everything he can reach. Sometimes he gets the correct one by default (since he has pushed them all), and he often inadvertantly pushes the telephone button to call the Elevator Company. (I try to beat him to it by covering the buttons that are off limits, but he is quick, I tell you. Lightning fingers.)

Every time, the intercom rings through to the mysterious woman on the other end of the line, who says, "May I help you?"

"Sorry, it was an accident."

"Oh, you've had an accident? Do you need help?"

"No, no help. It was a mistake. We're okay. So sorry."

"So you're okay?"

And by then, we've arrived at the second floor, the elevator door has opened, and Tucker's on the go to meet his grandparents and the snacks and toys they keep on hand for him, which leaves me to shout over my shoulder, in my polite-and-slightly-embarrased mom voice, "Yes! We're fine! Thank you! Sorry! Merry Christmas!"

Reciprocally, since Tucker can get inside and to their offices by himself, I fully suspect he could navigate his way right back out the door and down the street on his own.

So to all of you readers who visit with my son as he wanders the halls on a regular basis, and you know who you are, could you please stop him if he is without a responsible adult and visibly on a mission?

He may not be talking much, but he's thinking a lot, and there's just no telling what his plans are.

I thank you for your kind assistance in this matter.

1 comment:

my3boys said...

Once on a visit to see my mom at her office, the elevator stopped on the 7th floor (we needed the 12th) and Andrew got off. The door started to close and I tried desperately to find the "door open" button while shoving one hand into the ever decreasing space between the doors. The door ended up bouncing off of my forearm and I jumped off to rescue him! The point is...elevators are deceptively dangerous places for toddlers and their moms!!!