Yeah, yeah, yeah. I dropped the ball. Totally - I know.
If it's any consolation, big things have been happening. Like that TW is PREGNANT! And not just a little bit - we are halfway to welcoming a brand new baby girl to the family!! I may have to rename the blog. 'Course that would be a bigger deal if I'd posted at all recently. I fear any followers that I had may have had vanished into thin air.
Meanwhile, though, I have been taking lots of photos. Posting on Flickr most days, got a handful of followers, have gotten a photo printed on the front page of our local paper, and I've been asked to help photograph a wedding (couldn't do it, but still!)...
And of course The Boy grows. He has gotten a boatload of personality. And while he doesn't pull it out often, he can throw a temper tantrum with the best of them. Take for example the following situation...
"Mozart has, unfortunately, been in full tantrum for the past 20+ minutes because… He wants to ride the bus to camp - right now! Never mind that there is no bus. That he's not old enough to go to camp. And even if he were old enough to go to camp, nobody goes to camp when they are screaming."
Grammie saw the post and said that he needed to call, but I had to post back:
"He was given the opportunity to calm down, go downtown, and ride the bus. But then, because the bus costs money and one would need to get some money, he completely melted again. To the extent that he peed his pants (!). He did not get the time out for peeing his pants, but was again, given the opportunity to pull it together or head to his room to calm down. Which he chose. And then had a fit and slammed doors about. So now the timer is being set as he has, finally, calmed down."
He did calm himself for the evening, but then this morning it was like a replay with the added bonus of hitting TW...
It is good that he has is such a lovable kid most of the time. My pinky toe has been going numb on me of late (I know, I know, I'll get it checked out if it doesn't get better in a couple days...), and so he wanted to know exactly which one it was. And he kissed it.
Showing posts with label Toddlers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Toddlers. Show all posts
Great Things!
Indeed!
Mozart turned three this weekend and we had his Fire Truck party as requested. We'd planned on having the party at home, per usual, but found out Home Depot hosts birthday party's a couple weeks ago, so I called 'em up to see if they were available when we wanted and the only thing we needed to do was pick the theme.
Seriously. That's all we had to do. I said fire trucks and she said, "Cool, would a Rescue Plane craft be ok?" Uh, yeah! Cool! I went back to Mozart and he then changed his theme to be "Rescue vehicles with fire trucks." This was a good because, while I'm sure I could have fashioned a fire truck cake, I really didn't want to poison the children with a Red Dye #40 cake. Mozart agreed to a "fire rescue scene" for his cake. So I got to work. I used the same recipe as his owl cake, which, admittedly takes a bit longer than your typical non-freezer affairs, but it was just so good that every time I made a cake TW would say, "Oh, yes, she's an excellent cook, but nothing will top the OWL CAKE." So yeah. Had to. Not because it was asked of me, but because I gotta show what I got from time to time :D
So Thursday night I got to work. Went shopping. Spent entirely to much money. Changed the landscape of the cake from round to square pans because they didn't sell the sizes I needed in round locally. Went to a second store for food dye (I threw it all away last year because I was disgusted with the chemical dyes, but then I couldn't come up with viable options for real colors, so I caved). Baked three cakes and a batch of cupcakes. Set them to the freezer. Made the frosting. Made the daycare edition cupcakes for his party the next day:
And put the crumb coat on the main cake:
....before falling into bed. I went to my job as any zombie does the next day and set to work when I got home. First another batch of cream cheese frosting. A double batch this time. Made various colors. And set to the landscape:
I hadn't a plan for the burning building when I was in the baking process, so I ended up fashioning it out of graham crackers. I did a second crumb coat for good measure, then applied the grass, and of course, the underground was made of Nutella. Finally, I decorated the fire station, and put a crushed graham cracker and cocoa gravel down on the road before applying the rescue vehicles. But all said and done, I'd say, a pretty fine Fire Rescue Scene cake:
The kids loved it (as did the adults)...
Oh. And not so insignificantly, Home Depot does a BANG UP job on birthday parties! This is what we were greeted with:
That's right, not only did they decorate and provide a craft, but they really went all out ~ that piece of art hanging over the chair there in front of the fire truck place mat, and under the suspended fire truck, was a hand-painted workman's apron for the little man. Each kid got the choice of doing 1,2, or even 3 crafts (Pirate Ship, Race Car, or Trojan Horse Piggy Bank), and while they didn't actually have any Fire Rescue Plane kits left, they were able to give Mozart one that was already built. So we did our crafts, and had a blast. Mozart tested out the roadway for the ambulance:
And we served up the cake:
AND THEN the FIRE DEPARTMENT showed up!!! Mozart gave all the firefighters hugs, and then got to explore the TWO trucks they brought, and THEN he, and the other kids, got to practice ACTUALLY USING the fire hose!! It was a truly amazing day.
So all of that was Saturday. We'd been telling Mozart for several weeks now that he needs to be potty trained when he turns three because he's not a baby anymore and that we're not going to buy any more diapers. Despite all of that we were meeting a great deal of resistance to the whole potty training thing.
But you know what?
Sunday he got up and peed on his potty. Put his undies on. And stayed dry ALL DAY LONG!
Monday, he went to daycare in big boy pants, and stayed dry ALL DAY LONG! (he did wear a diaper for car transport)
Tuesday, he went to daycare in big boy pants, and stayed dry ALL DAY LONG! (without aforementioned diaper in the car)
And today he also stayed dry THE WHOLE TIME he was in big boy pants! He did have a diaper towards the end of the day as he hadn't yet pooped (today was the 4th day), but then tonight, after MUCH ADO, he POOPED ON THE POTTY!
Yahooooo! We are going to the pizza house tomorrow in celebration.
Mozart turned three this weekend and we had his Fire Truck party as requested. We'd planned on having the party at home, per usual, but found out Home Depot hosts birthday party's a couple weeks ago, so I called 'em up to see if they were available when we wanted and the only thing we needed to do was pick the theme.
Seriously. That's all we had to do. I said fire trucks and she said, "Cool, would a Rescue Plane craft be ok?" Uh, yeah! Cool! I went back to Mozart and he then changed his theme to be "Rescue vehicles with fire trucks." This was a good because, while I'm sure I could have fashioned a fire truck cake, I really didn't want to poison the children with a Red Dye #40 cake. Mozart agreed to a "fire rescue scene" for his cake. So I got to work. I used the same recipe as his owl cake, which, admittedly takes a bit longer than your typical non-freezer affairs, but it was just so good that every time I made a cake TW would say, "Oh, yes, she's an excellent cook, but nothing will top the OWL CAKE." So yeah. Had to. Not because it was asked of me, but because I gotta show what I got from time to time :D
So Thursday night I got to work. Went shopping. Spent entirely to much money. Changed the landscape of the cake from round to square pans because they didn't sell the sizes I needed in round locally. Went to a second store for food dye (I threw it all away last year because I was disgusted with the chemical dyes, but then I couldn't come up with viable options for real colors, so I caved). Baked three cakes and a batch of cupcakes. Set them to the freezer. Made the frosting. Made the daycare edition cupcakes for his party the next day:
And put the crumb coat on the main cake:
....before falling into bed. I went to my job as any zombie does the next day and set to work when I got home. First another batch of cream cheese frosting. A double batch this time. Made various colors. And set to the landscape:
I hadn't a plan for the burning building when I was in the baking process, so I ended up fashioning it out of graham crackers. I did a second crumb coat for good measure, then applied the grass, and of course, the underground was made of Nutella. Finally, I decorated the fire station, and put a crushed graham cracker and cocoa gravel down on the road before applying the rescue vehicles. But all said and done, I'd say, a pretty fine Fire Rescue Scene cake:
The kids loved it (as did the adults)...
Oh. And not so insignificantly, Home Depot does a BANG UP job on birthday parties! This is what we were greeted with:
That's right, not only did they decorate and provide a craft, but they really went all out ~ that piece of art hanging over the chair there in front of the fire truck place mat, and under the suspended fire truck, was a hand-painted workman's apron for the little man. Each kid got the choice of doing 1,2, or even 3 crafts (Pirate Ship, Race Car, or Trojan Horse Piggy Bank), and while they didn't actually have any Fire Rescue Plane kits left, they were able to give Mozart one that was already built. So we did our crafts, and had a blast. Mozart tested out the roadway for the ambulance:
And we served up the cake:
AND THEN the FIRE DEPARTMENT showed up!!! Mozart gave all the firefighters hugs, and then got to explore the TWO trucks they brought, and THEN he, and the other kids, got to practice ACTUALLY USING the fire hose!! It was a truly amazing day.
So all of that was Saturday. We'd been telling Mozart for several weeks now that he needs to be potty trained when he turns three because he's not a baby anymore and that we're not going to buy any more diapers. Despite all of that we were meeting a great deal of resistance to the whole potty training thing.
But you know what?
Sunday he got up and peed on his potty. Put his undies on. And stayed dry ALL DAY LONG!
Monday, he went to daycare in big boy pants, and stayed dry ALL DAY LONG! (he did wear a diaper for car transport)
Tuesday, he went to daycare in big boy pants, and stayed dry ALL DAY LONG! (without aforementioned diaper in the car)
And today he also stayed dry THE WHOLE TIME he was in big boy pants! He did have a diaper towards the end of the day as he hadn't yet pooped (today was the 4th day), but then tonight, after MUCH ADO, he POOPED ON THE POTTY!
Yahooooo! We are going to the pizza house tomorrow in celebration.
Have I mentioned that Mozart is obsessed with Harry Potter?
I'm sure I must have. He is adorable, whether he is saying "swish and flick", "wingardium leviosa", or "you disapear!" when using my pen or his fork to cast spells with his newly found wand. Or when he jumps down from his chair and says, "I just gonna play Quidditch now," and runs off to get his broom. Or the fascination he has developed with chess because of the great scene of Wizard Chess.
He has only ever read or watched the first book, "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone", but he has watched the movie probably over 30 times and I'm sure he and TW have ready through the book nearly twice now. I had reservations about the appropriateness of it for a two-year-old, but TW has such an obsession that I let it happen - it's a good bonding thing for them - at first only with one of us sitting next to him at all times, but now he watches the whole movie through on his own and only when he is feeling especially sensitive are those scary scenes (TROLL!!! Troll in the dungeon!) actually scary to him. Now he just goes over the scene at the dinner table ("But the troll's not in the dungeon anymore. Went to the girls bathroom. Gotta tell 'mione.")
When I picked him up from daycare it was reported to me that he holds court by telling everyone about everything that Harry does, and all the other characters, and that he goes on and on and on, and and not a one of them (kids nor adults) knows what he's talking about except that it's Harry Potter. That same evening on the way home, he says out of the blue (probably in response to something on the radio actually) and quite matter-o-factly, "I got a kitty, but just one. BatCat died. Voldemort killed her."
*sigh*
I corrected him that while Batcat did die, Voldemort did not do her in.
I can't yet bear to tell him that he won't be going to Hogwarts when he's 11 because there is no Hogwarts.
He has only ever read or watched the first book, "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone", but he has watched the movie probably over 30 times and I'm sure he and TW have ready through the book nearly twice now. I had reservations about the appropriateness of it for a two-year-old, but TW has such an obsession that I let it happen - it's a good bonding thing for them - at first only with one of us sitting next to him at all times, but now he watches the whole movie through on his own and only when he is feeling especially sensitive are those scary scenes (TROLL!!! Troll in the dungeon!) actually scary to him. Now he just goes over the scene at the dinner table ("But the troll's not in the dungeon anymore. Went to the girls bathroom. Gotta tell 'mione.")
When I picked him up from daycare it was reported to me that he holds court by telling everyone about everything that Harry does, and all the other characters, and that he goes on and on and on, and and not a one of them (kids nor adults) knows what he's talking about except that it's Harry Potter. That same evening on the way home, he says out of the blue (probably in response to something on the radio actually) and quite matter-o-factly, "I got a kitty, but just one. BatCat died. Voldemort killed her."
*sigh*
I corrected him that while Batcat did die, Voldemort did not do her in.
I can't yet bear to tell him that he won't be going to Hogwarts when he's 11 because there is no Hogwarts.
It's just beautiful outside with a fresh new snow perfect for making snowmen. The snow is still sticking to each individual branch and it would be perfect for taking photos if the light were just a bit more crisp - not that "crisp" is really a description for light, but hey that's how I'm thinking this morning. While I haven't checked in here in awhile, I've been very, VERY busy over the last two weeks. Vacation always brings an avalanche of work on return. I've got an intern under me right now, so that in itself was much better than it could have been. The changes to our department, and how we manage our caseload, however, was Major, and came on the heels of getting caught up from being gone. It's a long day at the office when you don't leave until 3rd shift arrives.
All the changes to our case management, for as painful as they are now, will really be better in the long run, but at the same time as this is happening larger structural changes are taking place in the agency, which is putting A LOT of stress on management. This is trickling down in unpleasant ways. I won't get into the details. Suffice it to say, whereas my job has never been quite the match for me, in the past couple of weeks I've felt rather like it is more thankless and soul-sucking than ever.
On way in which unpleasantness has occurred, which found its way back home is punctuality. Generally I am on time, if not early to meetings, but there have been comments about locking doors so people cannot come in late, so as you can imagine, I've been putting a little more effort into getting there on early lately. On one of these mornings, Mozart was having a particularly bad time of it. I was getting him dressed and as TW popped out of the shower, I noticed the time. I say to Mozart that I've got to have Mommy finish up as they are cracking down on punctuality at work. Suddenly he is reduced to tears and telling me that I can't crack down. Poor kid, in his emotionally fragile state(little did I know he was on the verge of getting sick), probably had an image of me cracking like an egg shell.
While Mozart ended up missing a couple days of daycare, I've managed to stay mostly healthy. I've popped more Vitamin C and taken more elderberry syrup than average, and have managed to not come down with anything in full. This morning, though, on waking I felt rather drugged and like I could sleep another three hours when woken up at 9am! I've felt muscle-sore over the past two days, which seems to have gone today, but seriously - that is FOUR hours later than I usually sleep! So much for catching a few photos of the snow at dawn!
I've had my coffee now and am feeling a bit more alive. The snow hasn't melted off yet, so there is hope of getting a few shots if it can just brighten up a bit. And hope of getting my glasses adjusted, doing a bit of shopping, and perhaps building a snowman. If TW gets home in time I can even get to the gym. Maybe. Perhaps an Epson Salt bath would be a better option for today...
All the changes to our case management, for as painful as they are now, will really be better in the long run, but at the same time as this is happening larger structural changes are taking place in the agency, which is putting A LOT of stress on management. This is trickling down in unpleasant ways. I won't get into the details. Suffice it to say, whereas my job has never been quite the match for me, in the past couple of weeks I've felt rather like it is more thankless and soul-sucking than ever.
On way in which unpleasantness has occurred, which found its way back home is punctuality. Generally I am on time, if not early to meetings, but there have been comments about locking doors so people cannot come in late, so as you can imagine, I've been putting a little more effort into getting there on early lately. On one of these mornings, Mozart was having a particularly bad time of it. I was getting him dressed and as TW popped out of the shower, I noticed the time. I say to Mozart that I've got to have Mommy finish up as they are cracking down on punctuality at work. Suddenly he is reduced to tears and telling me that I can't crack down. Poor kid, in his emotionally fragile state(little did I know he was on the verge of getting sick), probably had an image of me cracking like an egg shell.
While Mozart ended up missing a couple days of daycare, I've managed to stay mostly healthy. I've popped more Vitamin C and taken more elderberry syrup than average, and have managed to not come down with anything in full. This morning, though, on waking I felt rather drugged and like I could sleep another three hours when woken up at 9am! I've felt muscle-sore over the past two days, which seems to have gone today, but seriously - that is FOUR hours later than I usually sleep! So much for catching a few photos of the snow at dawn!
I've had my coffee now and am feeling a bit more alive. The snow hasn't melted off yet, so there is hope of getting a few shots if it can just brighten up a bit. And hope of getting my glasses adjusted, doing a bit of shopping, and perhaps building a snowman. If TW gets home in time I can even get to the gym. Maybe. Perhaps an Epson Salt bath would be a better option for today...
Snippets.
Mozart: "I don't have to ride in a car seat any more cuz I have a big bum now. And I just have to ride in my truck now."
Me: "I don't think so, I you've got a a ways to go before your bum gets that big."
Mozart: "Yeah, but some day my bum gonna be BIG and I gonna ride in my truck."
Mozart, guarding his food (that is on his plate the table) and pointing to the cat (who is across the room looking uninterested in any human happenings): "No, Barfy, you can't eat my dinner! No, you go away!"
Mozart: "My thumb is broken."
Me: "Oh, that's serious."
Mozart: "Yeah, the doctor have to take it off."
Me: "Heavens, it's getting worse all the time!"
Mozart: "That's ok, it's just at the hospital and it be all right."
Mozart: "Mama, I wanna watch Grey's Amammotty just a little bit. Ok, here I go. Mama, everybody's sick. They are all in the hospital. Beep beeeeeep beep. I need GiGi bwankee. It will keep me warm. I better get down now. Ok, now we gonna slide around on my new sleigh. Noooo, not right now, I gonna fork. Where are the boxes? I gonna fork up those boxes. Ooooooh, me fork broke up."
TW: "Oh! Not it!"
Barfinator did his thing under the piano bench, close but not touching Mozart's stack of train tracks, and clearly it is I who will be cleaning it up.
Me: "Ewwww!"
Mozart: "Ohhh, my tracks!"
Me: "It's not your tracks, they're fine, Barfinator did it again. He puked."
Mozart: "He pooped! Oh! That's a big mess. A lot of poop."
Me: "Puke, honey, he puked. He threw up."
He then walks over to Barfinator and talking about and to him, "Oh, he is berry sick. Poor Honey Bunny, your tummy hurts. Where is your tummy? You gonna get better Honey Bunny. It be all right."
Me: "I don't think so, I you've got a a ways to go before your bum gets that big."
Mozart: "Yeah, but some day my bum gonna be BIG and I gonna ride in my truck."
Mozart, guarding his food (that is on his plate the table) and pointing to the cat (who is across the room looking uninterested in any human happenings): "No, Barfy, you can't eat my dinner! No, you go away!"
Mozart: "My thumb is broken."
Me: "Oh, that's serious."
Mozart: "Yeah, the doctor have to take it off."
Me: "Heavens, it's getting worse all the time!"
Mozart: "That's ok, it's just at the hospital and it be all right."
Mozart: "Mama, I wanna watch Grey's Amammotty just a little bit. Ok, here I go. Mama, everybody's sick. They are all in the hospital. Beep beeeeeep beep. I need GiGi bwankee. It will keep me warm. I better get down now. Ok, now we gonna slide around on my new sleigh. Noooo, not right now, I gonna fork. Where are the boxes? I gonna fork up those boxes. Ooooooh, me fork broke up."
TW: "Oh! Not it!"
Barfinator did his thing under the piano bench, close but not touching Mozart's stack of train tracks, and clearly it is I who will be cleaning it up.
Me: "Ewwww!"
Mozart: "Ohhh, my tracks!"
Me: "It's not your tracks, they're fine, Barfinator did it again. He puked."
Mozart: "He pooped! Oh! That's a big mess. A lot of poop."
Me: "Puke, honey, he puked. He threw up."
He then walks over to Barfinator and talking about and to him, "Oh, he is berry sick. Poor Honey Bunny, your tummy hurts. Where is your tummy? You gonna get better Honey Bunny. It be all right."
Mozart-isms
This morning, as most mornings, Mozart started the morning by asking, "Mama, are you all dressed?"
I was not dressed as he had woken a bit earlier than usual, and was still in my workout clothes. I said no, and he said, "Oh, yeah, you still have your fluffy on."
My "fluffy" is my fleece pull-over.
We went downstairs and he noted that there was still a glass on the table from dinner last night, to which he declared, "That was salty water. I don't like salty water."
Fear not, I am not serving him saltwater. We had seltzer. I've tried to explain that the zing is bubbles or sparkles, but he insists there is too much salt in that water.
Finally, breakfast done, he wants to play rather than come upstairs with me. This is not part of the deal so so I said he could play with his airplane or forklift upstairs, and he said, "Yeah, I just gonna fork you some more."
That last one makes me crack up every time he says it, especially when he says, "I gonna fork you up!"
I was not dressed as he had woken a bit earlier than usual, and was still in my workout clothes. I said no, and he said, "Oh, yeah, you still have your fluffy on."
My "fluffy" is my fleece pull-over.
We went downstairs and he noted that there was still a glass on the table from dinner last night, to which he declared, "That was salty water. I don't like salty water."
Fear not, I am not serving him saltwater. We had seltzer. I've tried to explain that the zing is bubbles or sparkles, but he insists there is too much salt in that water.
Finally, breakfast done, he wants to play rather than come upstairs with me. This is not part of the deal so so I said he could play with his airplane or forklift upstairs, and he said, "Yeah, I just gonna fork you some more."
That last one makes me crack up every time he says it, especially when he says, "I gonna fork you up!"
We are recovered.
And just in time for two dumpings of snow. Beautiful, but I've had enough shoveling for the winter, thanks.
Prancer is down with it, though, and so we had to postpone our Christmas with him. It was the saddest thing ~ I shoveled all morning so I could get the car out of the driveway and called over to verify we'd be picking him up shortly. He answered in a not-so-bright voice and when asked how his morning was instead of the usual re-telling of various cartoons or trouble he'd gotten into, I got a weak sounding, "Not good." So hopefully we'll be able to reschedule.
Thankfully, Mozart is fully recovered (and I didn't succumb). When he was well enough, we went over to Mme. Child's house for dinner. While the adults were in the kitchen the children played quietly. Though we didn't *think* too quietly. Alas, a bloodied Mozart came into the room after having "crashed the angels". Mme. Child's very precious Lenox angels. Two of them. And a snowman. And a Santa. They could not be salvaged, though we were able to salvage Mozart's hands with several bandages.
Next day we went to the children's party at my work. Mozart, of course, thought Santa had come to see him exclusively. He could have held court on the man's lap for hours. Before he was convinced not to take up any more time, Santa asked what happened to his hands, to which he replied, matter-of-factly, "Oh, those just my Angel Boo-Boos."
The Angel Boo-Boos have nearly healed and don't need bandages any longer, and though Mozart would clearly like to have them, he can now be distracted away from needing them.
One last tale:
This morning I had been out shoveling from the wee hours. When I cam back in I hear, "Mama! I am awake! I am in a good mood!" Very pleased by this, I go to collect him for breakfast. While getting it together, he says, "I had good dreams. So, I am in a good mood." I asked him what his dreams were about, thinking they were likely about Santa or fire trucks as these are the things he talks most about these days, but his reply: "COOKIES! Lots of them!!!"
Prancer is down with it, though, and so we had to postpone our Christmas with him. It was the saddest thing ~ I shoveled all morning so I could get the car out of the driveway and called over to verify we'd be picking him up shortly. He answered in a not-so-bright voice and when asked how his morning was instead of the usual re-telling of various cartoons or trouble he'd gotten into, I got a weak sounding, "Not good." So hopefully we'll be able to reschedule.
Thankfully, Mozart is fully recovered (and I didn't succumb). When he was well enough, we went over to Mme. Child's house for dinner. While the adults were in the kitchen the children played quietly. Though we didn't *think* too quietly. Alas, a bloodied Mozart came into the room after having "crashed the angels". Mme. Child's very precious Lenox angels. Two of them. And a snowman. And a Santa. They could not be salvaged, though we were able to salvage Mozart's hands with several bandages.
Next day we went to the children's party at my work. Mozart, of course, thought Santa had come to see him exclusively. He could have held court on the man's lap for hours. Before he was convinced not to take up any more time, Santa asked what happened to his hands, to which he replied, matter-of-factly, "Oh, those just my Angel Boo-Boos."
The Angel Boo-Boos have nearly healed and don't need bandages any longer, and though Mozart would clearly like to have them, he can now be distracted away from needing them.
One last tale:
This morning I had been out shoveling from the wee hours. When I cam back in I hear, "Mama! I am awake! I am in a good mood!" Very pleased by this, I go to collect him for breakfast. While getting it together, he says, "I had good dreams. So, I am in a good mood." I asked him what his dreams were about, thinking they were likely about Santa or fire trucks as these are the things he talks most about these days, but his reply: "COOKIES! Lots of them!!!"
A Bad Thing.
This past week has been consumed by the dreaded stomach bug. First Mozart, then TW. I have gratefully (am now I am furiously knocking on wood) managed to avoid it. There have been many comical moments during this time. Many not-so-comical moments. I will share some of the comical:
Mozart, through barely open, puffed up and watery eyes, in a tired and barely audible voice, "No, I good. I not sick anymore. Went to the doctor. All better now." And then he promptly fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, "Mama, I awake now. Let's go downstairs, have breakfast." Me, "No, sweetheart, it's still sleeping time." Mozart, "Ok, I just need some water. Can I have some water?" Me, "Yes, of course, where is your cup?" He pulls it out and shows it to me, and I say, "Go ahead. Have some." He looks surprised by the idea, and said, "Can I?" Me, "Yes, darling, go ahead." He drinks deeply and says, "Thanks. Now you can turn off the light."
Yesterday morning, while I was not sure I would get by without a run-in with said stomach bug, I sat, feeling rather green, and had a large bowl next to me. Mozart comes over, looks at me, looks at the bowl, picks it up and fake-pukes into the bowl. Charming. Very charming.
I will not share the not-so-comical moments of the last week. They are just too horrible.
Mozart, through barely open, puffed up and watery eyes, in a tired and barely audible voice, "No, I good. I not sick anymore. Went to the doctor. All better now." And then he promptly fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, "Mama, I awake now. Let's go downstairs, have breakfast." Me, "No, sweetheart, it's still sleeping time." Mozart, "Ok, I just need some water. Can I have some water?" Me, "Yes, of course, where is your cup?" He pulls it out and shows it to me, and I say, "Go ahead. Have some." He looks surprised by the idea, and said, "Can I?" Me, "Yes, darling, go ahead." He drinks deeply and says, "Thanks. Now you can turn off the light."
Yesterday morning, while I was not sure I would get by without a run-in with said stomach bug, I sat, feeling rather green, and had a large bowl next to me. Mozart comes over, looks at me, looks at the bowl, picks it up and fake-pukes into the bowl. Charming. Very charming.
I will not share the not-so-comical moments of the last week. They are just too horrible.
Another small fan.
About a week ago, I noticed that the bedtime routine between Mommy and Mozart had lengthened. I found myself wondering if she started reading Harry Potter to him. I had no real reason to suspect this, aside from her unwavering love for all things Harry Potter. I mean, I knew it would happen sometime, but I thought it would be when he was closer to seven. I listened to snippets of story telling from in the room, but nothing seemed to suggest anything out of the norm.
My suspicions have been confirmed over the last week, however, when Mozart began wanting to "fly 'round the house." When he, out of the blue, yells, "Gryffindor!" at the top of his lungs and when the following conversation occurs:
Mozart: I just wanna play magic. I need a magic wand.
Mommy: You have to be 11 to have a magic wand.
Mozart: I am 11.
Mommy: Not yet. You need to turn 3, and then 4, and then 5, and then 6, and then 7, and then, well all the way up to 11.
Mozart: No. I wanna play magic. Turn me into 11.
Mommy (attempting with all her might to lock the window): Oh, Farqwod.
Mozarti: Oh, God.
Both moms laugh hysterically for several minutes.
Mozart: You did it Mommy? You gonna turn my hat in a toad?
And so it goes...
My suspicions have been confirmed over the last week, however, when Mozart began wanting to "fly 'round the house." When he, out of the blue, yells, "Gryffindor!" at the top of his lungs and when the following conversation occurs:
Mozart: I just wanna play magic. I need a magic wand.
Mommy: You have to be 11 to have a magic wand.
Mozart: I am 11.
Mommy: Not yet. You need to turn 3, and then 4, and then 5, and then 6, and then 7, and then, well all the way up to 11.
Mozart: No. I wanna play magic. Turn me into 11.
Mommy (attempting with all her might to lock the window): Oh, Farqwod.
Mozarti: Oh, God.
Both moms laugh hysterically for several minutes.
Mozart: You did it Mommy? You gonna turn my hat in a toad?
And so it goes...
Less than five minutes:
"I am a MONSTERRRRR! No! I am a Wise Old Owl. Costume not on - I gonna wear it."
Get's distracted.
"This is my mail truck."
He emits an extremely loud squeal/scream/rawr.
"That's a big sound. That was a big sound right there. It was. Mama, Mama, Mama! Carry my Cycle Mot - No!"
He picks up his ride-on and puts it on the couch.
"I am putting up on couch. There, put it up my couch. My motorcycle big. I better fix it. Get that. Get my tool thing."
He looks at me and touches the bottom of the computer.
"That's hot. I wanna watch Nana, Grandad 'puter. I better fix my motorcycle."
Moves toy work bench next to ride-on.
"There. See. It's next to motorcycle. I can fix with you. I fixing house. Make a mess. Santa Clause is watching me fix. I fix the door off. Whoaoa! I love fixing. There."
Takes out stacking block and starts putting them on work work bench.
"Now things go here, here, here, and here."
And it goes on...
Get's distracted.
"This is my mail truck."
He emits an extremely loud squeal/scream/rawr.
"That's a big sound. That was a big sound right there. It was. Mama, Mama, Mama! Carry my Cycle Mot - No!"
He picks up his ride-on and puts it on the couch.
"I am putting up on couch. There, put it up my couch. My motorcycle big. I better fix it. Get that. Get my tool thing."
He looks at me and touches the bottom of the computer.
"That's hot. I wanna watch Nana, Grandad 'puter. I better fix my motorcycle."
Moves toy work bench next to ride-on.
"There. See. It's next to motorcycle. I can fix with you. I fixing house. Make a mess. Santa Clause is watching me fix. I fix the door off. Whoaoa! I love fixing. There."
Takes out stacking block and starts putting them on work work bench.
"Now things go here, here, here, and here."
And it goes on...
Toddler News.
Mozart's new words today are: "Hedgehog" as in, "That hedgehog gonna be cute." And Amazing, as in "Yook! That truck is AMAZING!"
His new idea for the day: "We gotta go home, make cookies. They for Santa."
The thing that made him screech when I forgot what we agreed on: When ordering pizza (we were running late tonight), I dared to order delivery instead of pick-up, "So we can go to pizza house, get pizza, yeah!!"
The most frequent denial of late: "It not dark out right now."
Life with a two-year-old.
We started the day delayed and showed up at the the coffee house for breakfast with all of us starvin'. We made our order and got a piece of sweet potato pie for immediate consumption. Mozart wanted a brownie, but we'd tried to pick the most nutritious item in the case. As it is given to us, he screeches, "NO! I want brownie!" Mommy explains, "No brownies for breakfast. You don't have to eat it, we will." To which he screeches louder, "NOOO! My potato pie!" He consumed the whole thing.
While breakfast was generally enjoyable, the lack of prompt food (and caffeine) generally put all of us in kind of a sour state. We'd hoped to go to Mike's Maze, but between the non-listening skills and increased occurrence of the whine that happened during our morning errands, we opted to go home to nap instead. On waking, we were all feeling much better and set out for the Pumpkin Fest. Mozart got to ride a real school bus for the first time for the shuttle. Both TW and I were amazed at how small the seats and aisles were, and were taken back to memories of childhood. We had good times. Mozart was recognized by more people than we were. Popular kid. We had pumpkin fries and pumpkin pizza. We ran into Prancer, who we'd lost track of for a month or so. It was good. Then we caught the shuttle back.
Mozart, ever so excited to be getting on a bona fide school bus AGAIN, announces: "We are back!"
And then he put his hand directly on a young lady's breast and gave it a full groping.
I apologized profusely and whisked him along as fast as I could.
Now at the back of the bus, we were chatting with the folks in the next seat up. Mozart took my finger and stuck it into his nose. The lady I talking to guffaws, as I note that I've told him not to pick his nose, and then tell him that nobody should pick his nose, ever, unless in the bathroom.
Dinosaur bites and other ailments.
The other day when I picked up Mozart, he pointed out an owie on his arm. It looked worrisome. I don't know that it would have looked worrisome had his little friend, Goose, not come down with a staff infection earlier in the week. But Mme. Child sent me a photo and the owie looked suspiciously similar - angry red with a whitehead in the middle. I called the after hours line for the doctor and described it. Got the advice to put antibiotic cream on it and to make an appointment the next day.
Meanwhile what Mozart had been describing as his "bug bite" got promoted to his "dinosaur bit".
I just love this kid. He hears that we seem to be more concerned about something than his usual owie - generally bug bites, and so obviously, what he has must be something much more serious!
But then, fast forward to going to seen doctor the next day. He was very impressed with his band-aid (Elmo characters) all morning long, but when the doctor asked him why he came in he says, with a very serious tone, "I just got this cough from Kiki's."
Really? I mean, I did notice that he had been a little congested, but from the moment he said "dinosaur bite" all he talked about was going to the doctor to have it checked!
So I pointed out the owie, which did look better by then, and the doctor said that maybe it was and maybe it wasn't staff, but it was too early to tell. In the end, Mozart stayed home from Kiki's, the owie resolved itself with the OTC antibiotic cream and no script needed, and true to his prediction Mozart developed a little cough that turned into a bit of a bigger cough over the weekend.
He seems to be feeling better. I now seem to have acquired his little cough. So with that, I will turn in early and try mightily to kick this little cough to the curb.
Meanwhile what Mozart had been describing as his "bug bite" got promoted to his "dinosaur bit".
I just love this kid. He hears that we seem to be more concerned about something than his usual owie - generally bug bites, and so obviously, what he has must be something much more serious!
But then, fast forward to going to seen doctor the next day. He was very impressed with his band-aid (Elmo characters) all morning long, but when the doctor asked him why he came in he says, with a very serious tone, "I just got this cough from Kiki's."
Really? I mean, I did notice that he had been a little congested, but from the moment he said "dinosaur bite" all he talked about was going to the doctor to have it checked!
So I pointed out the owie, which did look better by then, and the doctor said that maybe it was and maybe it wasn't staff, but it was too early to tell. In the end, Mozart stayed home from Kiki's, the owie resolved itself with the OTC antibiotic cream and no script needed, and true to his prediction Mozart developed a little cough that turned into a bit of a bigger cough over the weekend.
He seems to be feeling better. I now seem to have acquired his little cough. So with that, I will turn in early and try mightily to kick this little cough to the curb.
The power of sleep.
Mozart wore me out. I am only now recovering after more than 24 hours.
He did not nap while at daycare on Tuesday. The plan HAD been to swoop in, pick him up, have dinner and head to the Y. There is free childcare on Tuesday nights, he loves it, and it give me some extra time at the gym for myself.
They say something about the best made plans... I don't think they had what followed in mind. I feel like what they had in mind would have been much more positive.
The daycare provider calls Mozart (and other kids) "ugly" when describing the behavior and nastiness that only toddlers can exhibit. Well, lemme tell ya, he was UGLY on Tuesday. It started when he wanted to stop by my office, which we do sometimes, but this was not in the schedule. The screaming commenced. And did not stop. It continued all the way home, into the house, through a time out, and even past the time TW got home. As I say, first it was the office NOW, then it was going to the Y NOW, certainly NOT going home for dinner, then it was having a snack NOW, with TV - and NOW! The kid was just coming apart at the seams. I decided, since the time out didn't work, we would try a time in. This sometimes works when a kid feels so out of sorts.
It didn't.
Thank-fully, TW did come home early and put together his dinner. By that time it was clear that he just needed to go to bed. Somehow we got him to be calm enough to sit at the table. And even got a laugh out of him every once in awhile - but the tantrum was constantly threatening.
I was frazzled, he was fragile, and we all needed a break. TW brought out some elderberry syrup for him. He was thrilled. He loves the stuff, and says, "I do need my medicine!" And so I asked him what kind of medicine he needs, thinking he's say something that referred to the syrup. Instead I got a blank stare, and so, well... I told him he needed a tranquilizer.* He repeated that very funny sounding word several times with some approximation to the proper pronunciation. I tell you, it's funny to hear a kid say, "I need my tranquilizer now."
After dinner he was brought up to bed and I got to get away to the gym for a bit. He slept very soundly and was in a much better space yesterday!
* Just a note that while we joke that he needs a tranquilizer (sometimes a bear tranquilizer), we have never and will never give him such a thing!
He did not nap while at daycare on Tuesday. The plan HAD been to swoop in, pick him up, have dinner and head to the Y. There is free childcare on Tuesday nights, he loves it, and it give me some extra time at the gym for myself.
They say something about the best made plans... I don't think they had what followed in mind. I feel like what they had in mind would have been much more positive.
The daycare provider calls Mozart (and other kids) "ugly" when describing the behavior and nastiness that only toddlers can exhibit. Well, lemme tell ya, he was UGLY on Tuesday. It started when he wanted to stop by my office, which we do sometimes, but this was not in the schedule. The screaming commenced. And did not stop. It continued all the way home, into the house, through a time out, and even past the time TW got home. As I say, first it was the office NOW, then it was going to the Y NOW, certainly NOT going home for dinner, then it was having a snack NOW, with TV - and NOW! The kid was just coming apart at the seams. I decided, since the time out didn't work, we would try a time in. This sometimes works when a kid feels so out of sorts.
It didn't.
Thank-fully, TW did come home early and put together his dinner. By that time it was clear that he just needed to go to bed. Somehow we got him to be calm enough to sit at the table. And even got a laugh out of him every once in awhile - but the tantrum was constantly threatening.
I was frazzled, he was fragile, and we all needed a break. TW brought out some elderberry syrup for him. He was thrilled. He loves the stuff, and says, "I do need my medicine!" And so I asked him what kind of medicine he needs, thinking he's say something that referred to the syrup. Instead I got a blank stare, and so, well... I told him he needed a tranquilizer.* He repeated that very funny sounding word several times with some approximation to the proper pronunciation. I tell you, it's funny to hear a kid say, "I need my tranquilizer now."
After dinner he was brought up to bed and I got to get away to the gym for a bit. He slept very soundly and was in a much better space yesterday!
* Just a note that while we joke that he needs a tranquilizer (sometimes a bear tranquilizer), we have never and will never give him such a thing!
Coffee time.
It was my fault this time. Sort of.
Mozart slept better last night. And, therefore, so did I. At the beautiful hour of 7am (as opposed to the ungodly hour of 5am), He woke up and requested breakfast downstairs. I obliged and then made myself coffee. While Mozart got on with his morning, I drank my coffee on the couch while catching up with Facebook. I was down to my last dregs, which I usually leave, and so had put my cup on the side table. Mozart was playing nearby.
And then it happened. Again.
This time I got a coffee shower. It was unintentional on his part, and it wasn't near the quantity of beer I was showered with yesterday. I screeched anyway, but I've got no one to blame but myself. And thankfully, coffee is a much more tolerable smell than beer.
Lessons learned this week:
- Always check side table (and couch) for any remnants from anyone's evening beverages or snacks upon coming down in the morning.
- Always put your own cup away immediately after you've decided you are down.
- Always be aware of the child's doings for you may be showered with unpleasantness if you are not.
- Do these things even if you are tired.
Oh, Come On!!
I mentioned a couple posts ago that I was so very, very tired. Since that time, I've yet to get a truly restful night's sleep. Mozart has been sick in a variety of ways ~ tummy trouble, fever, congestion, and now what may very well be hand, foot and mouth disease as evidenced by the sores in his mouth and the screaming that follows attempting to swallow anything but milk or yogurt. So last night, instead of staying up and watching a show with TW, I went to bed and fell asleep before I even got done with one page in my book.
You can imagine that I was less than thrilled that he woke up at 5am. And that he wanted to be up for the day at that point. My overly tired brain could not take the screaming that ensued when I suggested he try, just try, to go back to sleep. He wasn't having it. Wanted to come downstairs and have breakfast. I relented by half. I made him ask me in a less screamy voice, but we did go downstairs. Not to have breakfast, which I explained would absolutely not happen until it is light out, but to snuggle.
I did not turn on any lights. He said he was scared of the dark, but I said he had the choice of snuggling/resting with me down in the dark or he could go back up to his room. He chose to stay with me. We felt our way over to the couch and sat down. As I felt around for the blanket I knew was there, I put my hand on a slimy, sticky thing. I yelped a bit, which caused Mozart to snuggle closer as I realized the thing my hand was on was the lid for a Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Somewhat irritated, I muttered to myself about cleaning up after oneself, moved the offending object to the coffee table, and proceeded to snuggle in with Mozart. He did very well for some time, probably close to an hour, and he rested laying on top of me. Every once in awhile he'd get restless, I'd ask him if he wanted to go back upstairs, and he'd settle down again.
And then it happened.
I heard a small, "What this, Mama?" And was immediately showered with a deluge of cold liquid. I screamed outright in shock. My neck, hair and sweatshirt, as well as the couch behind, were saturated. With beer!?! Seriously?!? Now I am, well, howling in dismay. Mozart is joining in the howling because he doesn't know what is going on and if the dark is scary, I'm sure having your mother freak out in the dark for heaven knows what reason, is even scarier.
We howl our way upstairs, and I unceremoniously deposit Mozart in our bedroom, with a sleeping TW, and announced that I need to take a shower because my dear wife has left what must have been full beer to be poured on top of me and I now smell like a brewery.
I am showered now, and much more collected. TW calmed Mozart down and I even got an apology from the little guy. TW has gone back to bed and so the leaving-out-of-drinks will need to be addressed later. As my previous plans of getting to the gym early and then showering have been rearranged, we'll now be off to the Dairy Farm for milk, the Veggie Farm for veggies and flowers, and then the Farmer's Market for anything that didn't come in our CSA this week. I'll hit the gym later.
You can imagine that I was less than thrilled that he woke up at 5am. And that he wanted to be up for the day at that point. My overly tired brain could not take the screaming that ensued when I suggested he try, just try, to go back to sleep. He wasn't having it. Wanted to come downstairs and have breakfast. I relented by half. I made him ask me in a less screamy voice, but we did go downstairs. Not to have breakfast, which I explained would absolutely not happen until it is light out, but to snuggle.
I did not turn on any lights. He said he was scared of the dark, but I said he had the choice of snuggling/resting with me down in the dark or he could go back up to his room. He chose to stay with me. We felt our way over to the couch and sat down. As I felt around for the blanket I knew was there, I put my hand on a slimy, sticky thing. I yelped a bit, which caused Mozart to snuggle closer as I realized the thing my hand was on was the lid for a Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Somewhat irritated, I muttered to myself about cleaning up after oneself, moved the offending object to the coffee table, and proceeded to snuggle in with Mozart. He did very well for some time, probably close to an hour, and he rested laying on top of me. Every once in awhile he'd get restless, I'd ask him if he wanted to go back upstairs, and he'd settle down again.
And then it happened.
I heard a small, "What this, Mama?" And was immediately showered with a deluge of cold liquid. I screamed outright in shock. My neck, hair and sweatshirt, as well as the couch behind, were saturated. With beer!?! Seriously?!? Now I am, well, howling in dismay. Mozart is joining in the howling because he doesn't know what is going on and if the dark is scary, I'm sure having your mother freak out in the dark for heaven knows what reason, is even scarier.
We howl our way upstairs, and I unceremoniously deposit Mozart in our bedroom, with a sleeping TW, and announced that I need to take a shower because my dear wife has left what must have been full beer to be poured on top of me and I now smell like a brewery.
I am showered now, and much more collected. TW calmed Mozart down and I even got an apology from the little guy. TW has gone back to bed and so the leaving-out-of-drinks will need to be addressed later. As my previous plans of getting to the gym early and then showering have been rearranged, we'll now be off to the Dairy Farm for milk, the Veggie Farm for veggies and flowers, and then the Farmer's Market for anything that didn't come in our CSA this week. I'll hit the gym later.
Toddler Times
I've been trying to make a concerted effort of to not load Mozart up with carbs for his snacks. This is hard as he prefers carb: Biscuits, cookies, crackers, popcorn, bread, dry cereal, the list goes on... Tonight we stopped at the store on the way home for a couple of things. The garbage disposal broke, so TW asked me to pick something up for dinner. Mozart overheard this and suggested pizza. I was game. Still had to go to the store, but pizza it is (we are waiting). When we got home, though, Mozart said he needed a snack. I cut up pears. This was not his idea of a snack, and he let me know by wailing, "NO, I need bunny crack!!!"
We, of course, do not give our child crack of any kind. Not even the bunny kind.** And let's be clear if we were going to drug him, it would be of the tranquilizing nature. Not that we would ever think of that. Not even now, as he continues to wail about having his crack. Not even as he methodically takes his bowl of pears to the sink and dumped them in. And not even as he throws himself on the floor, lamenting toddler-style, about how unfair life is and then bangs his head on the coffee table, making the screams all the more pleasant.
Sigh.
**The bunny crack he is referring too is Annie's Cheddar Bunnies
We, of course, do not give our child crack of any kind. Not even the bunny kind.** And let's be clear if we were going to drug him, it would be of the tranquilizing nature. Not that we would ever think of that. Not even now, as he continues to wail about having his crack. Not even as he methodically takes his bowl of pears to the sink and dumped them in. And not even as he throws himself on the floor, lamenting toddler-style, about how unfair life is and then bangs his head on the coffee table, making the screams all the more pleasant.
Sigh.
**The bunny crack he is referring too is Annie's Cheddar Bunnies
Kisses, Knives, and Pixie Dust
Isn't it amazing how a kiss can cure all? Well, when you're two anyway. Mozart was messing around this morning ~ running, falling on purpose, and doing it all over again. He thought it hysterical. Until he accidentally on purpose fell on his face. It was tragic. Real pain, as evidenced by a real cry, not the fake one that he pulls out for attention. I gave it a minute (I find that if I give it just a little time before I kiss it better, the physical pain has dissipated enough to allow the psychological healing to take over) and asked him does he need a kiss. A teary, "I do," and he ran over to be mended. Three kisses on his chin and bottom lip and he says, "Thank-you Mama," and is off playing again.
I recently read an article where a woman listed off a bunch of moms admissions of failures, or rather, near-misses with their children. Most of them had to do with car seat mishaps - either they forgot to buckle the kid in, or it wasn't clicked into the base, etc. And all I could think of was The Knife Incident.
So Mozart didn't crawl properly, really, until after he started walking. At first I think it was difficult for him then perhaps he was just lazy about getting his belly off the ground, but by the time he had actually learned to crawl with his bum up, he'd figured out that he could get from point A to point B with a toy or two if he had his hands free - and so he Commando Crawled. Having been through Basic Training and the inevitable Obstacle Course, I can truly say that it takes, much, MUCH more effort to do this than to hike yourself up to your knees and be on your way. Nonetheless. That is what he did.
So picture this now. At about 10 months old, we are relaxing after we all got home. TW and I were both on the couch, and Mozart playing on the floor next to us in the kid-safe space. We were each in our own little world for a bit before the next flurry of dinner-making and evening routine started. I don't know what I was doing in my own little world, but when I noticed he moved from my sight I checked to see all was well. He was playing with a collection of cloth grocery bags and nothing else was around, so all was good. Then, two minutes later, I see the child making his way across the floor, Commando Style with a STEAK KNIFE in hand!!!
He was fine, amazingly, as he was holding the knife by the blade. Apparently TW's lunch bag was with the grocery bags - Heaven only knows why - with the flatware she brings back and forth to work, and he was such a clever little devil that he un-Velcro'd it to access the goods.
I think I will forever have that image of him seared into my mind.
There have been a couple incidences like this. I'm sure there are with most kids. And when they are over we look back and thank whatever magic was responsible for keeping them safe! Did I mention a couple weeks ago that Mozart started asking for pixie dust? Sometimes he would ask, but sometimes he would demand. We had no idea what he was talking about. Seriously. No clue. Then he started referring to watching pixie dust, so I figured it was a cartoon or something that he'd been exposed to at daycare. We could not figure it out. Until yesterday. Pixie Dust is apparently Teletubbies. I did the happy dance because he was no longer distraught (he did have to pull out his Big Boy Voice in order to actually watch the video). I still don't know what magic protects him from parenting mistakes and bodily injury, but for now the mystery of the pixie dust is solved.
I recently read an article where a woman listed off a bunch of moms admissions of failures, or rather, near-misses with their children. Most of them had to do with car seat mishaps - either they forgot to buckle the kid in, or it wasn't clicked into the base, etc. And all I could think of was The Knife Incident.
So Mozart didn't crawl properly, really, until after he started walking. At first I think it was difficult for him then perhaps he was just lazy about getting his belly off the ground, but by the time he had actually learned to crawl with his bum up, he'd figured out that he could get from point A to point B with a toy or two if he had his hands free - and so he Commando Crawled. Having been through Basic Training and the inevitable Obstacle Course, I can truly say that it takes, much, MUCH more effort to do this than to hike yourself up to your knees and be on your way. Nonetheless. That is what he did.
So picture this now. At about 10 months old, we are relaxing after we all got home. TW and I were both on the couch, and Mozart playing on the floor next to us in the kid-safe space. We were each in our own little world for a bit before the next flurry of dinner-making and evening routine started. I don't know what I was doing in my own little world, but when I noticed he moved from my sight I checked to see all was well. He was playing with a collection of cloth grocery bags and nothing else was around, so all was good. Then, two minutes later, I see the child making his way across the floor, Commando Style with a STEAK KNIFE in hand!!!
He was fine, amazingly, as he was holding the knife by the blade. Apparently TW's lunch bag was with the grocery bags - Heaven only knows why - with the flatware she brings back and forth to work, and he was such a clever little devil that he un-Velcro'd it to access the goods.
I think I will forever have that image of him seared into my mind.
There have been a couple incidences like this. I'm sure there are with most kids. And when they are over we look back and thank whatever magic was responsible for keeping them safe! Did I mention a couple weeks ago that Mozart started asking for pixie dust? Sometimes he would ask, but sometimes he would demand. We had no idea what he was talking about. Seriously. No clue. Then he started referring to watching pixie dust, so I figured it was a cartoon or something that he'd been exposed to at daycare. We could not figure it out. Until yesterday. Pixie Dust is apparently Teletubbies. I did the happy dance because he was no longer distraught (he did have to pull out his Big Boy Voice in order to actually watch the video). I still don't know what magic protects him from parenting mistakes and bodily injury, but for now the mystery of the pixie dust is solved.
Ah, Toddlerhood.
Tonight at the dinner table:
We were bribing Mozart to eat his quiche and veggies with pieces of crust from our own quiche. All was going quite splendidly and then he says, "I gonna eat that toopid crust."
TW, somewhat shocked: "What did you say?"
Mozart, with a smirk: "That toopid crust."
Me, very seriously, even though the way he says toopid is just too cute: "We do NOT say that word."
Mozart "Toopid! Toopid!"
TW: "That's ONE."
Mozart: "Is toopid."
TW: "That's TWO."
Mozart, giving it up for a bit, goes one to talk about other things for a some time. And then: "Lilly said word toopid."
TW: "Well Lilly shouldn't say it either. That is not a nice word."
Mozart: "Poopy crust?"
TW: "That's ONE. Again."
And finally he drops the potty mouth for the evening.
Later, completely unsolicited, he said, "Tank-you cooking, Mama." And this was said with a sweet smile and absolutely sincerely.
And finally, I'm washing him up and saying goodnight so we can do the pass-off for the bedtime routine and he burst out into song, "Love you so much, Mama. Love you sooo much Mama. Mama love. Love you sooo much Mama..."
Melting.
We were bribing Mozart to eat his quiche and veggies with pieces of crust from our own quiche. All was going quite splendidly and then he says, "I gonna eat that toopid crust."
TW, somewhat shocked: "What did you say?"
Mozart, with a smirk: "That toopid crust."
Me, very seriously, even though the way he says toopid is just too cute: "We do NOT say that word."
Mozart "Toopid! Toopid!"
TW: "That's ONE."
Mozart: "Is toopid."
TW: "That's TWO."
Mozart, giving it up for a bit, goes one to talk about other things for a some time. And then: "Lilly said word toopid."
TW: "Well Lilly shouldn't say it either. That is not a nice word."
Mozart: "Poopy crust?"
TW: "That's ONE. Again."
And finally he drops the potty mouth for the evening.
Later, completely unsolicited, he said, "Tank-you cooking, Mama." And this was said with a sweet smile and absolutely sincerely.
And finally, I'm washing him up and saying goodnight so we can do the pass-off for the bedtime routine and he burst out into song, "Love you so much, Mama. Love you sooo much Mama. Mama love. Love you sooo much Mama..."
Melting.
Ladies and Gentlemen!
He did it! He pooped on the potty!! Oh, how we have been waiting for this! Now we can get down to the business of REAL potty training. I mean, having a pee pee accident is not fun and all, but one cannot profess to really be into potty training unless and until one has successfully pooped on the pot! *
It all happened like this:
We got home and nearly immediately Mozart announced his 5 o'clock poop, "Mama, I pooping!"
"Oh, wonderful darling. How about going on the potty?" I say.
"No, I good."
*sigh*
We go upstairs to get cleaned up and I put in the frequently watched Potty Power video for our viewing pleasure. He watches, he answers the overly cheerful lady's questions, he sings along, and then we go about our evening of admiring the equipment for sale in a recent volume of TractorHouse Northeast**, running amok with packing material while the moms make dinner, eating dinner, and playing with tractors.
Then, an unexpected announcement, "Mommy, I gonna poop 'gain."
To which Mommy replies, "Hey, do you want to go on the potty?!?"
"No."
And both moms exclaim, "Ewe!" and "Grossness!" and "We were hoping you'd use the big boy potty." and "Cuz big boys use the potty!"
He did say vehemently that, "I am a big boy!", but declined just then to go upstairs to do the deed.
Shortly thereafter, he did go upstairs to get ready for bed with Mommy. I go about feeding the cats and am readying myself to take a walk when I get paged from upstairs:
"Mama!"
"Yes, darling?"
"I did it!"
"Oh? What did you do?" I ask looking up the stairs to see a completely naked boy dancing with his arms outstretched.
"I POOPED!! I did! On the potteeeeee!"
"You did!?! Really?!?"
"I diiiiiiiiid! Come see!"
I oohed and awed. I exclaimed at the stink, and waved my hands about acting as if I were to faint from it. We had a grand time. As I made my way back downstairs, I overheard him repeating, "I got Potty Power!" over and over. Apparently Grammie and Papa were called to share the excitement.
We are very proud of our boy indeed.
*Sorry, folks, you knew this was a blog about family life. And you knew that we have a toddler. And with toddlers comes potty training and these kinds of fantastic milestones. I do want to point out that I did not take a picture of said poop to share with you. You have, at least, been spared that.
** This brilliant publication, while somewhat boring for me to read, is endlessly fascinating to Mozart:
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