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.