Pronunciation: Not a Three-Year-Old's Strong Point

We went out to eat tonight to Long John Silver's (not our proudest moment, but it tastes good once every few months), and J got a kid's meal with chicken, fries, and a hush puppy. It's been a while since we've been to Long John's, so he wasn't too sure about the hush puppy. He refused to try it at first, even after seeing me eat one of mine. We got him to try it by telling him its 'kinda like a doughnut.' He happily dipped it in ketchup and started munching on it. It seemed to be a hit, though he didn't want another one after he finished that one. Anyway, he kept talking about the doughnut. I decided that since he already liked it, he could know what it's actually called. The following conversation ensued:

Me: It's called a hush puppy.
J: Yeah! I eat a dog!
Me: No, its a *Hush Puppy.*
J: Yeah! You eat a puppy!
Me: *Hush Puppy!*
J: You eat a pus puppy!

At this point, I dropped the hush puppy I *had* been eating and we started laughing. Not quite enough to put me off my appetite, but close.

Литл Баттхеда

Yesterday, we took the small ones to the mall. While there, I needed to go to the ATM, and since J was done eating, and getting antsy, I told him to come with me, and he could push the buttons when I told him to. He generally does pretty well; I let him do this at stores often. The ATM in the food court is all new and fancy and smart. It even remembers what language you want, so that next time you use a networked ATM, you don't even have to tell it. So, of course, when the language selection screen come up, what does J do?
He jumps up, and hits the touchscreen, selecting Russian.
Guess I'm not using Bank of America ATMs anymore.

Progress?

I freely admit, my kids don't wear a lot at home. I figure, being naked or semi-naked, is only cute (and socially acceptable) for a short period; might as well let them enjoy it.
B was running around nakers tonight, and kindly let me know I'd left the hall closet ajar by bringing out & waving around a couple diapers. She likes to play with cloth; don't know why, but it's easier to clean up than crayons & shredded paper so, whatever.
As I sat at my computer, I heard an ever-so-familiar tinkling sound, and looked up to see B studying the growing puddle at her feet. She then threw the prefold (diaper) she was carrying to the ground, and bent down to wipe it up.
I don't know whether to laugh, be annoyed, or be impressed....*sigh*

Tricksy Toddlerses

It was about an hour or so after supper, and I was sitting on the couch while J & B played. J  ran off to his room, and B suddenly decided she needed something. Her vocabulary is still pretty limited, so her "asking" consists of her pointing and whining. She was pointed and whining at the hanging fruit baskets very insistently, so I picked her up and held her near. To my surprise, she didn't want a banana (her usual fruit of choice); she was demanding an apple. Fine with me. I cut one up, put it in a bowl, and set it on the coffee table. She began wailing.
I followed her into the kitchen, where she stood sobbing, and pointing at the cabinets. I took a guess, and put a spoonful of peanut butter in the bowl with the apples. One of J's favorite snacks lately has been apples and peanut butter, and apparently she approves as well.
I left her happily at the coffee table with her snack, and went to go check on J. I returned to find a peanut butter-smeared toddler and a bowl full of apple slices.
All she wanted was the peanut butter.

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.