The Cutes

After almost a year in speech therapy, BobbyBlabberMouth is finally starting to open up and use his words to tell us what he needs.  A year ago, he wouldn't say anything or even try to communicate with us non-verbally, so this is amazing for us.  We finally know what our little boy wants.

He wants juice.

Lots and lots and lots of juice.

All day long, I'm pouring this kid juice.

He drinks so much of the stuff that I've had to start watering it down to a 75/25 water to juice ratio.

His pronunciation of the word 'juice' has been something of a small matter of contention between his father and me.  Instead of 'juice' he says 'cutes'.  I don't know why 'cutes', but it's friggin' adorable.  I have a hard time correcting his word.

Awwww, cutes!

Then SallyScientist gave me a logical excuse to keep calling it cutes:

Bobby: I wanch cutes!
Awesomeness: Aw, buddy, you need cutes? (Please don't tell on me.)
Bobby: Yeah! Cutes!!
Awesomeness: Come get your cutes, bud.
Sally: It's water and juice.  Water and juice makes 'cutes.'

Yes.  Yes it does.  Good call, kid.

How Dare You!

In the daily struggle to keep things fair and balanced, we sometimes have losing moments.  They're not all bad, though, because sometimes they turn into unexpectedly funny moments.

Mr. Awesomeness: Buddy, what do you want to watch?

Buddy: Wanna watch Wall-E!

Not Buddy: No! We watched Wall-E already.  We need to watch Tangled.

Mr. Awesomeness: Honey, I think it's Buddy's turn to watch a movie.  You got to pick a movie last time.

Not Buddy: No!  Buddy already got a turn today.

Mr. Awesomeness: (failing at reverse psychology) Well, Buddy, it looks like you don't get to take your turn because your sister is being very selfish.

Not Buddy: I AM NOT A FISH!!

The Koala Bear Diet

I love Nick Jr.  Most of the time.  Most of the time, they play fantastic programming that helps my kids learn an amazing amount of information.  Sometimes, though, there's a 30-odd-year old dick on there singing about wanting to be a polar bear.

I've always had a certain amount of hatred for grown-ups who sing kid songs.  Even when I was a kid, I wondered how the hell their life went that wrong.

So now PennyPretender wants to be a polar bear.  That leads to this discussion:

PennyPretender: Mama, I want to be a polar bear!
Awesomeness: Ohmigod!! Then go be a polar bear!  (I was eating dinner.)
PennyPretender: Mama, you want to be a polar bear too?
Awesomeness: No, honey.  It's too cold where polar bears live.  Snow is too cold for me.
PennyPretender: What kind of bear are you?
Awesomeness: I would be a grizzly bear.
PennyPretender: And what kind of bear is brother?
Awesomeness: He can be a koala bear (no lectures about what constitutes a "bear").
PennyPretender: So, I am a polar bear and you are a grizzly bear (it actually sounded like "greasy bear") and brother is a koala bear.

So, now that we had that all settled, I thought I could go back to eating dinner.  I was only right for about 10 seconds before FreddyFishNabber decided to steal his sister's Goldfish crackers.

PennyPretender: NO!  NO!  THAT'S A BAD KOALA BEAR!!  Mama, tell Koala Bear that koalas don't eat fish, they eat leaves.

Uh, yeah.  It's one of those moments when I want to concentrate on being super impressed about the fact that she knows what koalas eat, but can't because I have to mediate.  Explaining to a 2-year old that he's going to have to munch on koala-appropriate leaves is not an option.  Explaining to a 5-year old that koala bears sometimes eat fish seemed like a better idea at the time.

PennyPretender: Daddy! Daddy!  I am a polar bear and I live in the snow.  Freddy is a koala bear.  He eats leaves and fish.
Mr. Awesomeness: Koala bears don't eat fish, where did you hear that?

I'm hiding.

This is almost like the time that she ate stale popcorn out of the backseat of the car and I absent-mindedly told her that, "When things don't taste good, they're probably not very good for you."

Parenting Fail # 163.

Our Driveway Phone Crusher

The other day, on the drive in to work, I thought I lost my phone.  I could clearly see myself tossing it into my purse before leaving the house, but it was nowhere in my purse, on the floor of the car, anywhere.

Mr. A and I immediately began to discuss what could have happened and, since we were only a few minutes away, whether or not we should turn around to find it.  We had PunchlinePatty in the car with us.  We sometimes forget that she listens to our conversations.

Awesomeness: I know I put it in my purse, it was one of the last things I did before I left the house.
Mr. A: Are you sure you didn't tip your purse over at some point?
Awesomeness: Yes.  Right after I put my phone away, we left.  I didn't have time to negligently toss my purse around. (I don't like to be accused of dumbassery.)
Mr. A: Okay, are you sure that the kids didn't get into your purse?
Awesomeness: They didn't have time.  I grabbed my purse, grabbed my phone, tossed it in, then we left.
Mr. A: Are you sure it didn't fall out into the driveway somewhere?
Awesomeness: I sure hope not.  If it fell into the driveway, we should go back and get it.  If it wasn't crushed by a tire...
PunchlinePatty: Crushed by a tiger?  Your phone was crushed by a tiger?!!

She spent the next 10 minutes asking us why a tiger was in our driveway.  Was it a big tiger, with big teeth?  Why did it crush Mama's phone?

It distracted me from the distress of potentially losing or running over my phone long enough that I remembered what happened to it.

I tossed it in my purse, but then remembered that the pants I was wearing that morning had pockets.  It was in my pocket the whole time.

Captain Demando

My baby's finally talking.  He's needed about 6 months of speech therapy to open up, but he's finally getting there.  I can't believe the progress he's making too.  He's not just saying words, but also answering questions.  On top of that, he's actually asking for things he needs.  Like tonight when we had a real conversation:

ChattyCharlie: I'm hungry. 
Awesomeness: You need some food?
ChattyCharlie: Want crackers.
Awesomeness: You want some crackers, buddy?
ChattyCharlie: NOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!

Aw.  That's my baby.  My hungry, hungry, no cracker gettin' baby.

It's Really, Really Day

I worry about my girl sometimes.  She gets along okay in school, but she doesn't seem to enjoy it very much.  I figure I'm in trouble, since this is preschool, so the hardest thing she has to do all day is trace a Q with a crayon. She's also turning 5 this year, which means that Mr. A and I have a hard choice to make about whether to send her to Kindergarten in August or to give her one more year to work on her communication and focus.

Comments like this make me think we should wait:

Mama, school is really, really hard.

It made me sad to hear her say that today.  I asked if she was having trouble with her work, but she said, "No."  Was she having problems with the other kids?  "No, Mama, they're fine."

I'm positive that getting up at 6:30 in the morning is a drag, but she get's plenty of sleep, so I don't think that's it.  She and her brother are usually up around that time anyway.

I couldn't think of what else to ask her, so I just started worrying for her future filled with homework that didn't involve cutting and gluing squares.

Then I heard her say:

Mama, my guitar is really, really lost.

And then her brother grabbed her brand new sunglasses off of her face and demolished them faster than I could blink, which brought on:

Mama, my sunglasses are really, really broken!

What a relief!  She'll be fine.  It's just Really, Really Day.

What Did I Miss Today?

Whenever I get home from work, I like to find out right away what kind of day my kids had.  Did they eat?  Did they nap?  Was there anything unusual that went on that day that I need to be aware of?

There are days, like today, when I wished I never asked.

Mr. Awesomeness: Oh, by the way, apparently our daughter has been either sticking something between her teeth or picking at her gums with her fingernails.  She's causing her gums to bleed because she wants the tooth fairy to come and leave her a present.

Awesomeness: ....what the.....?

Mr. Awesomeness: I already told her THERE IS NO TOOTH FAIRY.

ToothFairyCarrie: Aaaaaawwww!

Wow, I just got home.  Home to an emo four-year-old who's getting yelled at for believing in the tooth fairy.  Parenting books don't prepare you for this moment.  Maybe one of these days, I'll write a parenting book that does.

Anyway, so I'm trying to smooth this over with reason.

Awesomeness: Honey, I'm sorry you're disappointed about the tooth fairy.  You need your teeth, though.  Your teeth help you eat.  It's very hard to eat when your teeth are gone.

ToothFairyCarrie: Aaaaawwww!  But Mama...."

Is this really an, "Aaaaawww!  But Mama...." subject?

Can I go back to work now please?

Name That Dog

NamelessNancy has always had a hard time with names.  She didn't learn her own until she was 3.  All of her best friends at school are named Boy and Girl.  Sometimes the parents get really fancy and name their kid Thatoneboy or Theothergirl.

One exercise that we do with her, is challenge her to name her stuff animals.  We might remember that we've had some success when she named her stuffed bunny Pervert Manager Herbert Nininger.  Tonight, we had another victory with the naming of, not one, but two of her puppies.

The one with light pink spots is named Otter.

The one with dark pink spots is named Effer.

Effer?

Anaconda Rides: $2.00

RubyRoughRider: Um, Mama.
Awesomeness: Um, Ruby.  (This is how most of our conversations start nowadays.)
RubyRoughRider: Kitty is too small.

This statement makes me nervous.

Awesomeness: Kitty is too small for what, honey?
RubyRoughRider: Kitty is too small to sit on.
Awesomeness: Yes, honey.  You shouldn't sit on the cat.  She's too small to ride and you could really hurt her.
RubyRoughRider: But I can ride a anaconda.
Awesomeness:  ...I suppose... (Who am I to crush her dreams?)
RubyRoughRider: Anaconda is big and I can ride and you can ride and I pay $2.00 and you pay $2.00.

I don't even know what to say to that.

She is still telling me about the anaconda.

Apparently he makes the noise, "Eeep, eeep."  He also makes a swish, swish.

She is literally in my face right now telling me this.  It's a good thing I took 4 years of typing.

Bad Liars + Batteries = Bath Time

GretaGameJunkie got a new Leapster for Christmas.  She packs that thing around with her wherever she goes.  I will say that those things are probably the best thing that ever happened to the battery industry.  I'm not sure that it keeps a charge for an entire week of play.

The point is, Mr. Awesomeness gets tired of replacing the batteries so often and will often lie to Greta about what it will entail to fix her game.  Some days he's a better liar than others.  Today, he just got real lazy.

GretaGameJunkie: Daddy, I need some batteries for my game.
Mr. Awesomeness: Um, we're out of batteries.
GretaGameJunkie: Aaaaaaaw!

Greta, heartbroken, decides to come out and complain.  I heard what her dad said, so I was ready to support his laziness.

GretaGameJunkie: Daddy said there's no more batteries for my game.
Awesomeness:  I'm very sorry that we don't have any batteries.
GretaGameJunkie: But I need them!
Awesomeness: Are those tears?
GretaGameJunkie: Yeah...I need more batteries.
Awesomeness: Are your tears turning into batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: No, Mama.  I need Daddy to get my batteries.
Awesomeness: Did Daddy say we have lots and lots of batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: Yes.  We have lots and lots of batteries.
Awesomeness: Where do we have lots and lots of batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: (immediately perking up) In the drawer, I'll go get them.
Awesomeness: (dammit!)

Sure enough.  Lots and lots of batteries just where we always keep them.  As soon as he heard that she was running after the drawer full of batteries, Mr. Awesomeness ducked out of his office.

Mr. Awesomeness: You can't just tell her there's no batteries?
Awesomeness: Dude, she fact-checked me.  Really, that was a bad lie.  Bad battery liars have to give the kids a bath tonight.

Guess who's giving the kids a bath while I'm typing out this post...

I cannot believe that worked.

Cookie Monster

Every year, Mr. A's boss gives him a tin of Kirkland European cookies.  It takes  us an eternity to finish off these tins because we're not huge cookie eaters. (I mean that both figuratively and literally.)  Never fear, CalvinCookieMonster has been making a vehement volunteer pitch to help move this along.

Just yesterday, it started as soon as he woke up:

Awesomeness: Good morning sunshine!  Did you have good sleeps? (don't judge, he's a 2-year old)
Calvin: *excitedly jumping up and down*  COOKIE!
Awesomeness: No, baby, we don't eat cookies right now.

We have the tin out on the breakfast bar (which I know is mighty contradictory to the fact that we don't eat them for breakfast) and every time anyone walked over that way:

Calvin: COOKIE!

I would ask if he was hungry, and he would get excited and run over to the breakfast bar:

Calvin: COOKIE! COOKIE! COOKIE!

At one point, yesterday, there were 4 adults standing near the cookie tin.  Calvin must have thought that, surely, one of us could get him what he needed.

Calvin: COOKIE!  COOKIE!  COOKIE!

This did not end well.  As soon as the four of us moved away without producing a single cookie for him, he melted down into a screaming, kicking fit.  Thankfully, our company thought it was funny in a pathetic way and were not planning to stay for very long.

Today, we are hiding the cookie tin.

His Name Is...

Every night at bedtime, we do the stuffed animal shuffle.  We allow CarrieCritterHoarder to keep 2 of them in her bed.  Before we put a limit on it, she thought 16 was a reasonable number.  So a part of our nightly routine is to determine which to of her million "favorites" will make the cut.

Last night, her first choice was The Grinch.  For her second choice, she selected a fuzzy, white bunny that she's had since she was a baby.

Carrie: Oh, my bunny!  I love my bunny!  He's my best friend.
Awesomeness: I'm glad he's your best friend.  You've had him since you were a baby.
Carrie: Yeah, his name is Pervert Manager. 
Awesomeness: .......Um, what was that honey?
Mr. Awesomeness: .......Um, did she just call her rabbit Pervert Manager?
Awesomeness: That's what I heard. Honey, what was your bunny's name again?
Carrie: His name is Pervert Manager.  Just like the bunny on Curious George.

Ooooooooh!  Okay.  In one episode of Curious George, the monkey is visiting his friend Bill, and Bill introduces George to his rabbits.  One of the rabbits is named Herbert Nininger. (Yeah, I don't get it either, but whatever.  It beats Pervert Manager.)

The Great Apple Juice Shortage of 2010

Today, I realized that we are officially out of apple juice.  This would not normally be an issue, but my son prefers it and, since he's sick, he's even more particular than usual about getting his way.  When I announced that we were out of apple juice, HelpfulHannah stepped in to help me identify the apple juice that, very obviously, had to be in the fridge.  I must be getting ill myself, because I spent 5 minutes indulging this:

Hannah: Is this apple juice?
Awesomenes: No, that's Worcestershire sauce.
Hannah: Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's soy sauce.
Hannah: Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's ketchup.
Hannah: Oh yeah.  Ketchup is for french fries.  Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's mustard.  Do you know what mustard is for?
Hannah: Mustard is for hot dogs. (I raised her right, thank you very much.)  Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's milk
Hannah: Oh yeah.  Is this apple juice?
Awesomeness: No, that's Caesar dressing.
Hannah: Ew.

Etcetera.  Forever.

Actually for 5 minutes, but it felt like forever.

Moooooore Braaaaaaains

SilentBob, I've been hoping that you would start communicating with us for a long time now.  You held out for so long that your pediatrician now swears you're autistic.  We both know that's not true, so we sit and patiently wait for a time when you can communicate your needs.  And now you do...

SilentBob: Grink!!
Awesomeness: Oh! You need a drink, buddy?  Good job!  Let me get you a drink.

15 minutes later, I get a cup to the face.

SilentBob: Grink!!
Awesomeness: You need more drink?  Let me get you something...

5 minutes later, I realize I haven't heard you for a while.  When I track you down, you're pouring your drink all over the floor.  We take the drink away, because you were obviously not that thirsty.

10 minutes later:

SilentBob: Grink!!
Awesomeness: No way, buddy.  You poured your last drink on the floor.  You can have another drink in a little bit.
SilentBob: Grink!!
*ignored*
SilentBob: GRINK!!  GRINK!!  GRINK!!  GRINK!!  GRINK!!

Well now I've gotten my wish.  This is a conversation we have about 39 times every day.  It's nice talking to you, but you need to come up with some new words.

Quickly.

Generally Speaking

Today, in the kids' speech therapy, LiteralLulu was playing a game that challenged her to think about the general categories of objects on a flashcard.  She was doing great until she got a card where the items seemed unrelated to her at first.

Speech Therapist: Okay, Lulu, what do you see here?
LiteralLulu: I see a lettuce (actually this is peas, but she calls all green vegetables lettuce...), a (green) frog, a (green) tree, and Oscar the Grouch (also green).
Speech Therapist: Why are all of those things the same?
LiteralLulu: Nooooooo, those things are different.
Speech Therapist: They seem different, but they have something in common.  Do you know what that is?
LiteralLulu: Well.........um........
Speech Therapist: (trying to be helpful) These are all the same because these are all....
LiteralLulu: THINGS!

*facepalm*

The Cat What?

TashaTattleTale: Mama! Mama!  The kitty has a rock.
Awesomeness: Uh.  The kitty has a rock?  Is that what you said?
TashaTattleTale: Yeah! The kitty has a rock.
Awesomeness: Okaaaaay.  Thanks for letting me know.

I look at the cat, who does not appear to have anything that even remotely looks like a rock.  I have no idea what this kid is talking about.

TashaTattleTale: The kitty sit on himself.
Awesomeness: What the wha?  The kitty sat on herself?
TashaTattleTale: Yeah, he was on the stairs and he sat on himself.

Duly noted.....

A few minutes later:

TashaTattleTale: We need go wash my foot.  It's stinky.
Awesomeness: How did your foot get stinky?
TashaTattleTale: Kitty peed the floor and I step in it.
Awesomeness: .......

I had her show me where the alleged cat pee was and there was nothing.  Odd.

About a half an hour later the kids' speech therapist came over and the cat decided she was going to be friendly today.  This is when I noticed a piece of crap stuck to the cat's butt.

"The kitty sit on himself."  Yes, she did indeed shit on herself.  I'm also thinking we solved the mystery of the "rock" the kitty had.  The cat pee?  I haven't found it yet and I'm not looking for it.

The Lardass

Last night when we got home:

MollyWordMangler: Mama!  Mama!  Can I watch the lardass?
Awesomeness: Um......can you watch what, honey?
MollyWordMangler: The lardass!
Awesomeness: You want to watch the lardass?
MollyWordMangler: Yeah! Yeah!  Let's watch the lardass!!
Awesomeness: I'm not sure I know that one.  Can you tell me which one it is?
MollyWordMangler: It's the lardass.  He speak for the trees!
Awesomeness: You want to watch The Lorax?
MollyWordMangler: Yeah! The lardass!  He speak for the trees.

The Rules

We've been working with the kids a lot lately with their speech (why I haven't found time for, say, updating blogs).  They're both pretty far behind where they should be for their age groups, so we've picked up a speech therapist who gives us homework for the kids every week.

This week RachelRuleLearner is learning how to pay attention to two-part rules and instructions; this lesson includes repeating them back to us.  This is not one of Rachel's strengths.  Usually, these conversations go like this:

Awesomeness: Please pick up your shoes and put them on the stairs.  Tell mama what you're going to do.
RachelRuleLearner: I run in my shoes.  
Awesomeness: What are you doing with your shoes right now?
RachelRuleLearner: I wear my shoes to school.
Awesomeness: That's what you did today with your shoes.  Right now, you need to take your shoes off and put them on the stairs.  What do you need to do with your shoes?
RachelRuleLearner: I need to clean my shoes.  They're dirty, bleeeech!
Awesomeness: That's not what we're doing right now with your shoes.  Right now, we're taking your shoes off and putting them on the stairs.  Tell mama what you need to do with your shoes.
RachelRuleLearner: I kick a ball with my shoes!

By this time, I'm seriously frustrated.  I want to kill the shoes with fire.  I pretty much want to kill all shoes with fire at this point.

Obviously though, something that we desperately need to work on with her.  Today, the instruction had to do with her potty training.  She gets distracted when she's having too much fun with something and sometimes she doesn't quite make it to the toilet because she waits until the last minute.  She wanted to play on the computer* and that gives her the biggest challenge when it comes to the potty problem.  So we set rules:

Mr. Awesomeness: Rachel, when you're playing your games and you feel like you need to go potty, what do you do?
RachelRuleLearner: I run to the toilet right away.
Awesomeness: That's right!  What happens if you don't go to the toilet right away?
RachelRuleLearner: I run to the toilet right away.
Awesomeness: If you go peepee or poopoo on the floor, the computer is getting turned off.  Now what happens if you go peepee or poopoo on the floor?
RachelRuleLearner: Dada spank my ass.
Awesomeness:..........
Mr. Awesomeness:...........

Just when we think she doesn't pay attention...


*For any parents of younger kids: Firefox has a browser extension called Kidzui.  It's a collection of kid-friendly websites (Nick Jr., Sesame Street, Discovery Kids, etc.) that they lock into a special safe browser, so no accidentally clicking on viruses or porn sites.

Back Seat Road Rage

I'm starting to think that Mr. A needs to hold his temper a little more in traffic.  TerraTrafficTerror sits right behind him and has nothing better to do but yell from the backseat:

Hey!  Get outta the way dude!

Honka horn Dada.

WHOA!  Whatta jerk.

The Laws Of Ownership

Over the weekend, BillyBirthdayBoy amassed himself a good little stockpile of brand new toys.  I don't know how other families work, but the boundaries of "ownership" in our house are a little fuzzy.  Whenever we get toys, we try to keep both of our kids in mind, as they both end up equally claiming everything.

I thought maybe TashaToySnatcher was old enough to start grasping the concept of personal possessions, so we were working on the "these toys belong to Billy" lessons.  Yesterday morning, we were playing with some of the toys before her brother woke up. Apparently, she knows something I don't though, as per this conversation:

TashaToySnatcher: Oh, boy!  I love my new fire engine Mama!!
Awesomeness: BillyBirthdayBoy got those yesterday for his birthday; they belong to him.
TashaToySnatcher: *Looks down at the toy in her hand and thinks for a minute.* No, Mama.  This toy no brother's.  He's sleeping.

The lesson: Ownership begins and ends with consciousness.