She must be really hungry.

Long time no blog! We're moved and settled, and the kids are starting up the anecdote-worthy insanity again. Hopefully I'll have many happy incidences to share from now on.

B is almost 16 months old, and although her vocabulary only consists of  "Mama", "Dada", "this" and "no-no-no-no!", she is still quite efficient at letting us know her needs. For example, we keep our kids' dishes in an un-childproofed bottom drawer so they can get their own spoons, bowls, cups, etc. B will quite often let me know she's thirsty by pulling out a cup and babbling.
"Ish-shish-dis-dis-da-dat!"

Earlier I was cooking in the kitchen when I felt a tugging on my pant leg. I looked down to see B, quite emphatically babbling, and holding up her brother's Frisbee like a plate. She seemed quite indignant when I started laughing.

Oh my freaking buckets of holy crap.

So, I thought it'd be fun to make play-dough today for Jonas. He helped me measure and mix the ingredients, and stir it up while it cooked. He was very proud of himself, but had no clue what we were making. Once it had cooled, I tried to get him to play with it, but he started crying and yelling "No dough! No cook!" Fine, whatever; I put it in Tupperware and figured he could play with it some other time.
I put on a Thomas video for him, and went to put his sister to bed. About 15 minutes had passed, and she was barely asleep when he started shrieking, like "I'm dying in horrible agony"-type shrieking. Bridget wakes up because I set her down so suddenly, and I run into the kitchen where I find that Jonas has:
1) Stripped himself naked,
2) Found and set up the stepladder,
3) Found and opened my misc. cooking drawer,
4) Filled the Tupperwares (with the play-dough) with water,
5) Emptied the blue food coloring into the red play-dough,
6) Emptied the spearmint oil into the green play-dough,
and
7) Dumped cinnamon oil down his front, including his boy-parts.
Hence the screaming. Cinnamon oil burns.
And then he got a bath.


*headdesk*
*headdesk*
*headdesk*

Not this one, too....

J was bathing while I tackled the hall closet (we're in the process of moving).  As usual, B decided she needed to be in the bathroom, too. I generally let her, as the bathtub is too tall for her to climb in, and J lacks the strength to pick up and pull her in. So, they play together and both get nicely soaked. The floor typically does, too.
I wasn't watching them totally, but could hear them playing happily, and was only about 10 feet away. They splashed and giggled, and occasionally I'd hear J giving his sister instructions ("No, baby, don' pway wif a boat." "Here, baby, take-iss a cup." "Spwash, baby!"). I poked my head in, and came across an interesting scene:
The toilet lid was up. I always make sure it's down.
The rest of the toilet paper roll was unrolled, and mostly in the toilet.
J's clothes were in the toilet. Various other articles of dirty laundry were spread about the bathroom floor.
All the drawers in the small cabinet were open, and emptied. The diaper covers, normally in the top drawer, were also in the toilet.

Here's the thing: J knows that if he gets out of the tub, the bath is over. That means that the perpetrator of this lovely mess was none other than my sweet, smiley, snuggly little B.
Thank goodness she hasn't figured out how to flush.

Can't-----stop-------laughing.

J was watching the credits of Toy Story II and naming the objects that scrolled up the screen.
blue crayon: "bwue cwan!"
orange crayon: "wed cwan!"
sheriff's badge: "yeyow star!"
rocketship: "bwue spacip!"
jack: "star!"
barrel o' monkeys monkey: "Gwappa!"

The brainwashing starts early.

Well, I watch a lot of children's programming. It's selective, based on what doesn't kill my precious grey matter. (sorry RubbaDubbers, you're out)
I've noticed a trend in my son's favorite shows, and it makes me wonder why Glenn Beck isn't vehemently denouncing all children's shows as akin to worshipping the devil and eating babies.

Handy Manny and Dora the Explorer: teach Spanish.
Ni Hao Kai Lan: teaches Mandarin.
Thomas the Tank Engine: clearly Socialist.
Backyardigans: encourages diversity.
VeggieTales: no meat; only vegetables and fruit.
Spongebob Squarepants: impossible to watch without pot.
Bob the Builder: "Yes, we can!"


Good thing I approve. Feel free to add any I've overlooked.

(yes, this entire post is completely tongue-in-cheek. Perhaps later I will post about how all children's programming is wholly conservative)

I appreciate the info.

I was sitting on the couch with J, watching Shrek. J didn't really care, but I hadn't seen it in years. After a bit, I noticed that J was smiling, and sort of scratching the back of the couch with one finger. He did this for about half a minute before he noticed me watching him.
He grinned.
"I put a boogey on the couch!"

Bad Mommy....

We were at an evening wedding reception this weekend (congrats, Nick & Nikki!). It had been a busy day: 4-hour-drive; rushed, mosquito-filled, toddler-refused picnic lunch; seeing and touring and touching and riding trains at the train museum (aka 3-year-old nirvana; a nice little nap break (aka the wedding itself); and then an interminable wait in a really neat building with lots of chairs and tables and doors and potted plants and a pool that wasn't for swimming ("neena go swumming!!!"). And then when the food finally came, it wasn't something yummy like chicken nuggets, it was weird noodles with lots of vegetables, and no sauce (pasta primavera).
Of course, B dug right in (literally--ignoring the bread I'd given her, and trying to grab the tomatoes and zucchini on my plate), while J refused. After a while, both kids were getting really restless, so we were about to leave, when they announced that the cake was ready, and to come up and get it. So, we decided to buy a few more minutes with friends, and took the kids up to get cake. There were several different types, I grabbed a piece of chocolate raspberry; Dave a piece of almond buttercream. We decided to let J have a piece despite his lack of eating supper, and since the line was piling up behind us, I snagged the smallest piece I could find quickly--a piece of chocolate. J made a face when he tried it, but ate most of it, and was well-behaved while we ate and chatted for a bit longer.
We got back to the hotel and watched TV while the kids wound down. Around 11, Dave and B were asleep, I was nearly there, and J was still resisting like a pro--bouncing, kicking, squirming, rolling, fussing. Somehow, he was still wired; he just wouldn't lie down and go to sleep!
Finally, as he began to drift off, I had a sudden, clear flashback to the reception.
I didn't bring him a piece of chocolate cake. I had taken a piece of mocha.

Happy Happy Happy

The other day, B was wearing a shirt that simply states, "Happy Happy Happy". It describes her very well. She was being very happy and full of smiles, so I decided to sing to her "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands..." I got to the pause before you repeat it.... and she clapped! She clapped at each break after I repeated it! Now if you sing it to her, she generally claps through the whole thing with a huge smile on her face.

I'm not even sure where to begin with this one...

For the purposes of this blog, I feel I should inform you that although J is generally a very good speaker, he does get his word order confused on occasion.
So, I was cooking lunch in the kitchen while J and B played with the refrigerator magnets. B evidently got tired of this, and I heard the 'slap-slap' of her crawling off to do something else. I then heard J stop playing with the magnets, too.
Then B starting crying her 'surprised and angry' cry, and J began reassuring her "'S'okay, baby. Calm down, baby."
I asked J quite pointedly what he did (since he is generally the instigator).
"I fell off a baby."


I still have no idea what happened.

Drool is even more charming when it's blue.

So, I was going back and forth between our kitchen and living room, picking up clutter. Dave and J were goofing off in the living room, and Bridget was doing her best to follow me around. B has just left the kitchen, and I was going back in (mean mommy), when I noticed some splotches of bright blue liquid on the floor.
Just as I started to ask Dave what we had that would spill blue, he starts freaking out, yelling that Bridget's got blue all over her mouth and down her jumper. I pick her up and run to the bathroom to wash out her mouth, while Dave traces back the trail of blue drool to see where it came from. Dave is non-stop just babbling about blue things she couldn't have maybe not in  million years gotten ahold of, like toilet bowl cleaners or marker ink or dye tablets. I fish around in her mouth, (which is in a big dumb grin, by the way) and pull out a litte pretzel ball.
I'd been making up snacks for a party earlier, and had used those new pretzel M&Ms. Apparently, I'd dropped one.
So, here's one little girl who's very pleased with herself.



By the way, pretzel M&Ms are kick-ass in Chex Mix.

He Thinks He's Independent

I half-awoke this morning around 5:30 to the squirming of a small boy stretched out at our feet, thus reducing the amount of mattress to be occupied by me. I attempted to shift so as to not be kicking him and I felt something plastic in bed next to me. I opened my eyes to find a jug of milk lying on its side next to me. Fortunately, the lid was secure and nothing was spilled. I figured J must have gotten it and brought it in there. Looking at the door, I realize his bedroom light is on, yet he's asleep in our bed. I got up, took the milk (only about 2 inches left in the bottom) and realized it was the Chocolate Milk. On my way to the kitchen, I see that he had moved his potty into the middle of the hallway, used it, and left his pants and underwear on the floor next to it. "Okay, I'll put those back on him before I put him in his own bed," I thought. As I continued into the living room, I noticed our Brita water pitcher is sitting upright on the couch, about 1/3 full of water, alongside his mother's empty water cup, also open. Next to these items was an open, empty, water bottle. As I start to gather and put away these items, I see the jug of regular, white milk sitting on the far end of the coffee table. I put these items all away, only to notice a rather large damp water spot on the carpet at the entrance to the kitchen. I put on his underwear and moved him back to his own bed and he slept there until about 10:00. Who knows how long he was awake.

Apparently he got up to go to the bathroom, decided he was thirsty, and either didn't bother to wake us to help him get a drink, or he attempted to wake us and failed. He's not even 3, and he thinks he can do everything by himself. I'm scared.

Sometimes I wish I knew what he was thinking

....but generally, I don't.

B was playing on my lap, when J suddenly ran out of his room and up to the couch where we were. He patted B on the shoulder, and then looked at me to say,
"Is not a baby robot!"
And then ran off happily.

Same genetic pool...

...completely different outcome.
I know I've mentioned this before, but the differences between my two kids just amazes me, especially now that B is starting to show her little personality so much more.
J was a baby who didn't care about much but moving. He was even kicking me between contractions, for crap's sake. He talked late, but was climbing up stairs at 6 months. He never really did any of the "typical" baby uh-oh's: no eating random objects, no playing with his poop, no painting with food. He never really did any of the typical baby cute things either, though: no chewing on feet, no singing, no attachment to specific stuffed animals. All his life he's been concerned with motion and exploration. He loves to run and climb, and is obsessed with wheels, switches, levers, and buttons. And if he wants something, he'll find a way to get it.
B, however, is mostly content. She was so comfortable in utero that she never even turned around or dropped. She loves to watch people, and will stare at complete strangers for the chance that they'll look at her and smile. She loves music. She studies her toys thoroughly, feeling them all over, and rotating them to examine all sides. She's constantly yelling and babbling, and lets us know instantly of any important discoveries. Anything new is immediately put in her mouth. She's already figured out how to push beads through simple bead mazes and bangs away at J's xylophone. She's even noticed the different textures in J's touch-and-feel board books. And if she wants something that isn't readily accessible, she'll plop down on her butt, and just cry and cry and reach out her arms like it'll magically jump into them.

It's astounding.
I can't wait to see how (currently hypothetical) #3 turns out.

Pronunciation is key, my son.

So, I've rearranged the living room. This means that the coffee table is no longer off limits to the small one, and she is very pleased with this new situation. Unfortunately, it also means that J can no longer leave things there, like a train set (a crisis which arose approximately 3.2 seconds after completion of the rearrangement). When things calmed down, I decided to reward myself with compy time, while the children played at the one edge of the table I cannot see due to my laptop.
Suddenly J starts screaming.
"No, baby! No eat! No, don' eat it!"
I immediately jump up to extract whatever B's managed to find and attempt to swallow this time. My probing inside her mouth gets a little more frantic (and disgusted) as J continues yelling.
"No, baby. Don't eat bug!"

I feel the object in her gums, and dread pulling it out...
It's a barely identifiable white mass. Then I realize that J has retrieved the remainder of his supper, and is holding a half-eaten roll.
Apparently, in angry toddler-speak, "bug" = "bread".

Definitions

I'm starting to think that parenting is little more than rearranging boundaries, whether physical, psychological, or regulative, as the children learn enough to bypass them.

They're collaborating.

This does not bode well.

Is lying a milestone?

Well, as some of you may have heard, J has defeated doorknob locks. So, for those who are wondering: don't get this kind, with the hole in the front. Little fingers can grip the doorknob that way.

Anyway, we've been dealing with J's new obsession with opening all the doors previously forbidden to him (the front door now has a chain lock, for the record). He opens the bathroom door; he closes the bathroom door. He opens the master bedroom door; he closes the master bedroom door. Usually.
I was playing with B in the living room while J played in his room, or so I thought. I then heard the bath being filled with water, so I decided it may be prudent to go check on the boy. As I rounded the corner into the bathroom, J was, as expected, removing his clothes.
"I take a baff."
"No, it's not bath time."
"Baff!"
"No, bath time is after supper. Come on."
"No supper. Baff!"
"No, it's not bath time. Let's put your clothes back on."

I succeeded in convincing him that he did indeed want supper (pasta is pretty popular around here), and escorted him out of the bathroom. Surprisingly, B, despite her new-found skill in crawling, stayed in the living room.
"Okay, I'll go make supper. Can you close the door?"
"No close a door!"
"Close the door."
"No close it!"
"J, we can't let Baby get in here. The door needs to stay closed."
And here comes the kicker:

"Baby says door stay open!"

You keep saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

J & B have this musical jungle plastic toy-thing. One pushes down an oversized button (cleverly disguised as a lady bug), cheery music plays, air pressure forces a ball to roll in a circular track, and interchangeable animals and tree move in various ways.
The usual order of business is this: B smashes the button, and then becomes enthralled with the revolving ball, while J plays with the configuration of the air-powered figures. Well, the social order was upset today, as B tried to go for the spinning palm tree. J could not have this, of course, and knocked all the figures over rather than let B get them.
I asked J what he did.
He looked up at me.
"It tripped."

So good at making parents feel bad...

Dave took some reject stickers from work a good while back, and they've been sitting on our counter with no purpose whatsoever. Until now.
During J's "nightly naked time", Dave thought it would be funny to put a couple stickers on J ("Better Value!!!"), between his shoulder-blades, where he can't reach. At first, J thought it was funny; he giggled and turned circles trying to reach the sticker. Then his scrambling became more determined. "Stuck. Stuck!"
Dave laughed, and I smiled, until his squirming stopped, he looked at us most seriously, and whispered:
"Scared."


Yes, the sticker came off immediately. Now he's claimed them as his own.

Note to self:

...just because your son has recently released a massive amount of "peepee inna potty" does not mean that the instant you set foot in the park, he won't impressively pee through his pants/underwear that you though it would be safe & fun for him to wear.
And then, of course, you'll have to deal with the miserable 1-mile walk back home.
Ugh.

*headdesk*

Dave had J on his lap while he played around with Facebook. J looked up and declared, "Mommy!"
I looked over. David wasn't on my Facebook. He was teasing my brother via my sister's page.
J pointed again at a picture of his aunt. "Issa Mommy."

A sign of things to come...

Poor J. He has very limited social interaction. He plays with me, B, and Daddy every day. A couple times a month, he plays with our friends' girls, ages 1 and 4.
Today, we were at the park, and the inevitable throng of mothers, their jogging strollers, and other children just out of school were there. J found a boy about his age (and a future football player, based on his build) and decided to try and initiate play.
This is how it went:
J *at top of steps*
FLB (future linebacker) *at bottom of steps*
J *smiles*
FLB *stares*
J *moves in front of FLB*
FLB *moves to other side*
J *moves in front of FLB again and smiles*
FLB *moves to other side, still staring blankly*
J *moves in front of FLB and giggles*
FLB *moves to other side and goes halfway up steps*
J *moves in front of FLB and giggles*
FLB *moves to other side*
J *moves in front of FLB and giggles*
FLB *moves to other side and climbs to the top of the steps*
J *steps directly in front of FLB and laughs*
FLB *edges past J, still expressionless, and runs away*

must...resist...laughter....

Dave is wearing a shirt with a screenshot from the old computer game "Oregon Trail", featuring the ox & wagon with the infamous YOU HAVE DIED OF DYSENTERY. J saw the shirt and exclaimed "car!". Dave was confused until he realized J was pointing at the wagon. Dave smiled, and pointed at the ox. "What's this?"
J replied "Daddy!"

Weird little kid...

B was asleep on the couch, and J was wandering around nakers, playing with random toys. J ran up to me suddenly: "Wipe! Wi-i-i-ipe!" Figuring he probably had a bit of an accident, I ask why he needs a wipe, and can he show me where? He just repeated, "wi-i-i-ipe!", and ran ahead of me to the bathroom. I get the requested wipe, and go over to the kitchen, where he was last playing, and see nothing.
"Where do you need a wipe? Can you show me?"
He just stands there. I hand him the wipe.
"Show me where you need it."

He takes the wipe.
"Wipe."
He holds the wipe up to his face, and takes several deep breaths.
"Min."
And then he runs away to play with a big smile on his face.
(Our wipes smell like spearmint.)

Big brother is funny, even when he's trying to sleep.

Poor J. He's so very sleepy, and frustrated from potty training (he doesn't understand why he can't have "yots of chocket" all the time). He's been fussing and falling asleep next to me and B on the couch. Of course, B finds everything her brother does funny. So, she keeps squealing with delight whenever we squirms or yells. Which, of course, wakes him up and he cries for a bit. Then he calms down and falls asleep. The B gets mad because he's not performing for her anymore. And she wakes him up, which is hilarious, until he calms down again.
It's a cruel cycle.

Crying over milk

We have a new rule in our household: J only gets flavored milk every other day, at most. This is because he has taken to refusing white milk and begging for strawberry (thanks to Dave for introducing it to him). He had strawberry milk yesterday, and asked for it again today. I gave him white milk. He yelled about it, so I took it away and put it on the counter so he wouldn't spill it in the possibly ensuing tantrum. Surprisingly, he just walked away. Later, I was making chili for supper (or as he calls it 'brezzit soup'), and he asked for strawberry milk again. I have him his cup of white milk back, and he looked at me and said, "It not done."

Well, he's right.

I have no idea why, but J has been walking around all day, tapping the top of his head, and saying, 'Issa my head. Issa my head."

Opinionated Baby is Opinionated.

That'll teach me.

I'm sure that by now everyone knows the story of the bucket and the knot, so I will fill you all in about another happening in our eventful day yesterday.

I was on the couch with B (as per usual), when I heard the toilet flush. Oh, crap, I left the bathroom door open again. So, I yell at J to stop playing with the toilet, intending to get up and get him out when B was done eating. In the ten minutes of silence that followed, I completely forgot to do so.
That is, until I heard the sound of flushing, inevitably succeeded by the shock-inducing sound of a torrent of water hitting linoleum, and the frenetic cries of a two-year-old who knows that something just went horribly wrong. I run in to find that he'd carefully unraveled about half the toilet paper roll into the toilet. One quick plunge fixed it, and I spend the next ten minutes removing everything from the bathroom, and gathering and spreading all but two of our towels.
I calm down the boy and reassure him as he sits curled on the couch. (B finds her brother's tears uproariously entertaining, by the way.) I can't help but laugh when I realize that during his nightly naked time, he'd apparently also taken great liberties in powdering himself.

Ummmm....

B woke me up nice and early again today. So, I was trying to take a shower quickly before J woke up while B kicked and squealed on the changing mat. I was nearly done when I heard, "Mommy, wha-you doing?". I answered, "I'm taking a shower.", and got out and starting drying myself off. J watched me for a second, and then instructs me "Diaper on!"

Just because.

Baby!

Two years old and no green thumb

I like plants. I like having them around. I also have a hit-or-miss green thumb. Out of the plants I've attempted to establish in our apartment, about half have survived to this day. My most recent acquisitions, some paperwhites I grew from bulb, were doing well until recently, when they decided to start collapsing under their own weight....or did they?
This morning I caught J standing on his tippy-toes, pulling at the paperwhite leaves. I yelled at him; he turned and said, "Iss okay. Iss all right.", and then ran for his room.

I believe you.

J just paused in his playing with Thomas and Percy to brace himself against the coffee table, and begin grunting and grimacing. He then looked at me and said, "I not yucky, I fine.", and then walked away like he'd just ridden a horse for 10 hours.
It makes me wonder when all the times I thought I was being so clever when I was little, if my parents were just barely holding it in, and then explosively laughing once I left the room.

The Toddler Rules of Eating

1.  Mommy and Daddy's food is always better, unless it's something I've never had before.
2.  If Mommy and Daddy put what's on their plate directly onto mine in an attempt to circumvent rule #1, I'll still go for their plate.
3. If Mommy and Daddy make me something special because what's on their plate is something I've vehemently rejected in the past, it's a good time to decide that I do indeed like what they have. 
4.  If I'm not hungry, I'll be messy. If I am hungry, I'll very carefully and fastidiously eat every morsel. If I'm really hungry, I'll haphazardly shove anything vaguely resembling food towards my face.
5. My favorite food can change randomly and without warning.
6. My favorite food is always a hit, unless I'm hungry and whining for food. Then I want something else. You have to guess what.

Only the toddler has the laughing magic.

Poor baby.

Several times tonight, Dave and I have left J & B in the living room, B on her playmat, J doing whatever, only to come running when B starts wailing frantically. Once, it was because J was yelling in her face ("BAAAAYYBEEEEE"). The other times?
She's perfecting her rolling over. The catch? Because of her lack of coordination, her left arm keeps getting stuck by her side, preventing her from completing the roll. Thus, she's left awkwardly on her left side, unable to flip onto her front or to her back. Hence, the frantic screaming.
Despite her obvious distress, the last couple times Dave and I can't help but laugh a bit, and then feel bad about laughing. Rolling over is just so serious!

He would know.

Dave came out of the closet bathroom to see B lying on the couch, watching him. He walked up to her, talking in an octave higher than normal, and was rewarded with a huge grin and giggle. J watched the exchange, and then informed Dave, "See yikes you."

*tear*

J and I were snacking on a few crackers before bed, and he'd just "given" me the last one (read: shoved it into my mouth). He then took the plate ("all done cwackers"), and went into the kitchen. I was expecting him to put it on the counter (or in the recycle bin; it's a 50/50 chance which he'll pick), but instead I heard some shuffling and vague banging sounds. I asked what he was doing, since the baby was on my lap, and got no response. A minute later, he rounds the corner, very carefully holding a moderately laden plate, and set it next to me.
"More cwackers, Mommy."

In case you were wondering, my dear children....

B:

• You can sleep if I'm not holding you, I promise.
• Your brother is not the only interesting human being in your life. Laugh for Mommy or Daddy every once in a while, please?
• Stop growing! Mommy just got finished going through all the 0-6 month clothes; she doesn't want to start all over again with the next round in your wardrobe.
• Your hands are attached to you. Whenever one escapes from your mouth, don't fret; it'll be back soon.

J:

• Yes, a movie is technically over when the credits begin to roll, but you don't need to jump up instantly and remove the DVD from the player especially if: a) there are amusing things happening during/after the credits, or b) you are planning on losing/scratching the DVD.
• If you're hungry for a snack, just tell me what you want. I know you know the words for your favorite foods. The whole rigmarole where I list every food in the house while you yell/grunt a negative got old long ago.
• Stop learning brand names! It's really disconcerting to hear you yell 'Wahmart!' when we go shopping; 'Deezy' whenever we watch a movie; 'Djepadee' whenever I'm watching my favorite game show; and 'Enbeezee!' every time I watch the Tonight Show. It makes mommy feel like she's overexposing you to commercialization, when really she doesn't think she is.
• When you notice the baby is sleeping, the proper response is not to yell, "Baby seeeeeeeeeepiiiiiing!"
• If the baby is grumpy and crying, the proper response is not to shriek back.
• If Mommy tells you that if you shriek again, you'll go on time-out, you probably shouldn't answer her with another mind-ringing shriek.

*Facepalm*

So, J got out of the bath yesterday, and, as per tradition, he was happily running naked around the apartment. He very quickly realized that I'd set up a box-fan in the living room where the diapers were on the drying rack.
He dashes over.
"Issa fan on?"
"Yes, the fan is on."
He looks at me, still thoroughly sodden and standing dead in front of the fan, teeth chattering.
"Issa fan very cold."

*Sigh*.....brothers....

I was changing B's diaper when J came in, holding the Sprite 12-pack box that I'd thrown in the trash earlier. I asked him what it was, and he replied, "Spasip" and proceeded to make 'spaceship' noises: "pewwww. ppsssshh." Expecting to get an answer like "Issa spasip fwying.", I then asked, "What is the spaceship doing?"
He got a little smile, and then crashed the Sprite box into his sister's chest. "Bwwwsssshh!"

He should probably stop that before junior high....

J's latest "thing" is kissing. He'll run up to the baby while I'm holding her. "I kissa Baby" He'll give his stuffed WALL-E a hug. "I kissa Wawwee." He'll pause from flying Buzz Lightyear. "I kissa Buzz."

But now, I think it's gone too far. He was begging to "watsa veeo?" a couple of minutes ago, and by process of elimination determined that he want to "watsa twains".
So, I put the video in, he runs up to the TV, and: "I kissa twains. I kissa Thomas!"

Tone-deaf, just like Mommy

Jonas is currently lying on the floor, singsongingly (not a word? I don't care) repeating, "We piwates doondoo neefing. Dee destay-ome pie-woun. Awif assus do eefing, assass-selloo doondoo neefing.".
I would also like to point out that Dave's birthday is in 5 days.

For the VeggieTales-impaired: "We are the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything. We just stay at home, and lie around. And if you ask us to do anything, we'll just tell you, 'we don't do anything.'"

We Missed It

I was off changing J's diaper this morning, while S was working on brunch. S left B on the couch, up against the back of the couch, since she can't roll over yet ... no big deal. I get back to the living room, sit at my computer, look at the couch, and B is on her stomach, facing the back of the couch with her legs hanging off of the couch. I hollered at S to ask how she left B, and she told me. The little girl rolled over and we both missed it.

She is now happily looking at stuff from her blanket on the floor.

Not Quite What We Had Intended

We're attempting to get J used to his little potty. It's currently sitting in our living room so he'll get used to being around it. J currently has a bad diaper rash and is consequently running around naked. He's been randomly saying "Poo-Poo," so I've been putting him on the potty, which he doesn't like, and I gave him a little piece of chocolate as a reward for sitting on the potty with no pants on. He sat there contentedly eating his "cho-coc" while S and I praise him for it and telling him how good he is for sitting on the potty and what a big boy he is, etc. After he finished his chocolate, he got up, walked around to close the lid for the potty, closed it, and proceeded to stand on it. He then said with a slight smile, "Tim-out over."

*facepalm*