Honesty.

This morning's wakeup call.

J: *pokes Dave's tummy*
 "Issa tummy. Tummy. Tummy. Issa issa issa big tummy."

Sibling Rivalry Begins Early

This morning, Shan and I were discussing various birth weights for ourselves, siblings, and our children. It then occurred to us (again, as we had forgotten) that, when B was born, most of the numbers given to her on her birth are 1 higher than J's numbers when he was born.

For example:
B's birth weight: 9 lbs. 7 oz.
J's birth weight: 8 lbs. 6 oz.
B's birth day: Aug. 14
J's birth day: Aug. 13
B's birth time: 8:-- AM
J's birth time: 8:-- PM

She also had to make her birth a bit more memorable - with the c-section and all.

I need a drink.

To my dear sweet little boy,
If there's one thing you take away from your childhood, I hope it is this:
When you poo in the bath, the proper response is not to pick it up with your bare hands and fling it all over the bathroom floor.
Sincerely,
Your loving mother.

Ode to a Magical Room

Oh, wondrous bathroom!
What is it about you that makes my infant so happy?
From rigid anger to wiggly smiles, all from being lain on the changing pad.
Is it your brightly white walls and ceiling?
Your soothing monotonal fan?
Your wet smell of soap, shampoo, and dirty laundry?
Your lack of a noisily intrusive toddler?
Or perhaps it is just the simple anticipation of imminent nakedness?

Whatever your secret, I love you, magic bathroom.

Imagination Begins at 2

Jonas has begun to use an imagination that nearly blows us away every time we observe it in action.

One day a few weeks ago, he was holding his big semi truck in the air, swinging it around, and making jet noises. One of us asked him what he had and he replied, "Pay-sip" (Spaceship).

Also, as a side note, he's learning songs. One of his books has the buttons that play the little electronic kids songs. Among the buttons on the book, one of which plays "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" (Or the alphabet song, for those of you who know that both songs are the same tune). Anyway, today, we realize that he's trying to sing along simply by repeating "Twee-kol Sar. Twee-kol Sar. Twee-kol Twee-kol Sar."

He counts too. "Too-for" ... "too-for"

He learns from the best.

J has been sitting by Dave, babbling nonsense loudly while Dave & I attempted to have a conversation. Dave decided to turn the tables on J, and got right in his face, talking very fast, and taking as few breathes as possible, informed J on how annoying he was, how Dave was not going to stop talking, how Dave was actually making sense, etc.
J looked up at Dave, and said, "Annoying. Annoying noise."

Lost in translation

J: *pokes B's tummy hard*

B: *lies there with a stunned look on her face*

Me: "No, no. Remember, we need to be gentle with the baby."

J: *pokes B's tummy hard* "Dentol, baby!"

I'm so proud.

The dryer at our apartment complex sucks. So, as usual, I was hanging up the baby clothes (seriously--it couldn't dry a 3/4 load of baby laundry), and J comes up to me, and starts taking clothes out of the basket and draping them on the rack. I was so happy! He's been watching Dave and I and is trying to help! I thank him and he keeps helping....until we get to the bottom of the basket.
He takes the last few clothes out and throws them on the floor. He then upends the basket onto his head and runs off giggling.



Edited: Now he's wormed his way into the drying rack, and is watching VeggieTales from the safety of his fort, sitting on a small carpet of clean spit-up rags and pajama pants.

He likes the LOLcats, too.

As Dave & I drove home from Culver's today, yummies-to-go in hand, I realized (most unhappily) that the hole in the dome lid was too small to remove the spoon, thus preventing me from enjoying my Bananas Foster sundae. Dave laughed while he ate his Mint Oreo Mixer and I cursed at my lid for being a failure to convenience. Then, from the back seat, we hear,

"Fail!"

*twitch*

J has been really hyper all this evening, despite a nice walk to the park. Finally, I get him to leave B & me alone so I can feed her in peace.

Then, it's quiet; too quiet.

I put B down in her poo-chair, and go into our bedroom to discover that J has found the newly-sorted clean laundry, and is leaping and rolling in it like it's piles of leaves.

*twitch*

Unanswerable questions.

Why does B only exploda-poo in her cutest outfits?

How does J always know when I'm sneaking a cookie?

How did a sleeping B get chocolate on her tummy & pants? (yes, it was chocolate, I checked)

What prompted J to fling himself bodily on the couch and wake up his sleeping sister by slapping her cheeks?

Why does J need to confirm that he has made a yucky by sticking his hand down his diaper?

How does wearing a blue bow make B a boy?

How did J learn the words for 'cookie', 'donut', 'cake', 'candy', and 'ice cream' so readily and intelligibly?

How is B fit 0-3 mo pants so well, yet is almost too chubby for 3-6 mo shirts?

Why did we buy J a little step-stool of his own?

What happened to the full container of betta food that was in J's closet?

Please don't give my son any more sweets.

We had lots of fun yesterday at Sioux Center's Hallelujah Party. The range of costumes was impressive, although there were entirely too many broody, make-up'ed vampires for my taste (I hate teenage girls, so, so much). Despite the several Tiggers, there was only one Eeyore, and he got many 'awwww!'s. A group of foreign exchange students took pictures with him. He didn't care about the camera; he was focused very intently on the cupcakes each had won at the cakewalk. ("issa cookie? say peese") They offered him one, but I had to decline, since he already had gotten candy from the bank teller, the Hardee's cashier, and the Walmart greeter. Yikes. No more sugar.
B was also much admired, even though she could care less. It's amazing (and quite wonderful) how she falls asleep anywhere. If only J would still do the same.
:s