We've a new bit of terminology in our house.
A few nights ago Luke and I were in my bedroom. I don't recall what I was doing, but Luke was taking a running start and belly flopping onto our bed. "Mom. Look. Mom. Watch....." Splat.
Over and over (and over) again.
Exasperated, I told him to stop. Just stop, already.
Being of a certain age, my brain can only handle so much exuberant stimuli when I'm trying to do something else... as I said, I don't remember what it was, and I am pretty sure it wasn't that important.
A few minutes later we were in his room, saying prayers and tucking in for the night, and I apologized.
"Buddy, I am sorry I snapped at you. I know you were doing a thing." Aside to my mom, who was with us for a few days, "He's never just jumping or propelling himself for no reason. It's always a thing. Be it an amazing Ninja Warrior feat, escaping a Minecraft zombie, leaping over lava, leading the Knights of Camelot to certain victory, being Ace, the barrel-running horse from the NDSF... it's always a thing."
And someday, all too soon, that imagination and joy of flopping will wane. As will wanting to show me every, little thing. The "Mom! Mom... watch, mom.."s will decrease until they are but a memory. I'll long for the days when the quiet was broken by the wielding of a wooden sword (that can be STORED inSIDE the wooden shield?!) or the thudding on the bed of a body (launched from the stool with the bunny on it) that I can still, just barely, carry.
So now? He knows this is his out. And, sure, he may milk it a bit. But that's fine by me. It reminds me to slow down and watch.
Cuz he's doing A Thing.