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.