What A Polite Boy!

Since starting with toilet training, Joey has become quite sensitive to questions when he's pooping. He's also pretty obvious when he's pooping. We keep encouraging him to go on the actual toilet, but what we get is a grumpy, "Don't talk to me."

It happened tonight. We asked again, and he - full-on angry face - said again,
"Don't talk to me!"

"That's not nice," I said. "We don't talk that way."

He thought for a moment, then said slowly, "Can you please not talk to me?"

Logical

From out of nowhere, Sam says to me, "Blue whales are bigger than elephants."

"...So they have stinkier toots."

Yep.

At Least She Was Third...

We're looking for a babysitter for my office Christmas party. As a gentle way of broaching it, I asked Sam how he'd feel about my aunt putting him to bed. He was amenable, but told me "Aunt Jenny is my first choice." When I asked him his second choice, he said that it might be my aunt.

"Who else might be second?" I asked. He thought for a moment, then replied, "...Maybe her cat."

I'm Closing This Chapter

My mommy always said, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. I haven't blogged much over the last two weeks.

These two sentences are not unrelated.

Now that I'm officially calling this phase finished, I'll at least mention it. You know, for posterity.

Joey's been... yell-y. A lot. He spent about two weeks completely losing his mind over, well, everything. And anything. And nothing. For weeks. Truth be told, it was awful. He Jekyll'd and Hyde'd most impressively; I mean, literally in the span of two breaths he'd switch between happy and grinning and absolutely howling. At some point shortly (or longly) thereafter, there would be another two breaths and he'd be happy again. It was both incredibly disconcerting and very hard to deal with. Nothing made him happy when he was upset, and anything could make him upset.

Suffice it to say, he was not our favourite person for much of the last couple of weeks.

He's been back to normal for the last couple of days, so I'm calling it an ended phase, but man! I feel like I now have stories from the trenches.

Destructive Tendencies

I think we got lucky, first time around. Sam has always been a careful child, and one who took care of this things. I don't think we ever lost a piece of any toy he ever owned, and it was rare that anything of his got broken.

Then we had Joey.

Joey has always been the tougher of the two, the more physical, and the more interested in how things go together. At least, I ascribe the last to him; it's possible that he just likes breaking things. (To be fair - and this may be the last time this post - he really enjoys putting things together, too.) Seriously; the dude breaks everything. He breaks things that I didn't know could be broken. Case in point: he walked out of our bedroom the other morning with one of those travel floss packs - the little white plastic ones. When I came downstairs a minute later, he handed me a naked spool of floss, the plastic and metal casing thrown randomly on the floor. For the life of me, I can't figure out how he got it apart; I tried to do it and needed a key and some leverage.

The other day he popped open the floss, destroyed a granola bar thoroughly enough that I had to sweep twice, tore a tab off of a foam floor mat and snapped apart a toy alligator. He's a force of nature, and we don't really know what to do with it.

I don't know if he's more typical, or if Sam is, or if it's somewhere in between, but in any case, we were spoiled by Sam. We're not used to having to make sure everything breakable, messable or scatterable is out of reach. Not to mention anything that can be used to break, mess or scatter; heaven help all of us when he gets ahold of his umbrella or Sam's toy broom.

Maybe he's some sort of savant. A master of destruction. I only hope we can monetize it before he wrecks the house.

Uh... Sure...

Driving to preschool this morning, Sam has finished his little bowl of Goldfish. He puts it upside down on his head and announces, "I'm a chef!"

Man, somebody had better start sanitizing his media consumption.

Hallowe'en!

Joey as Pirate, Sam as Pirate Iron Man With A Mustache (yes, it's blue - that's what he asked for).

This was the first year that Joey really got the idea of trick-or-treating, and boy did he embrace it to the hilt. We ended up going for 3 blocks or so (but big blocks, so don't feel bad for the little ones...), and Sam was the one that suggested we stop. He wasn't grumpy or upset, just happy to have been out and ready to stop. Joey, though... I think Joey would have gone for another hour.

They also didn't try to eat their candy. Much, at least. While we were out. That night.

We haven't even ravaged their candy supplies yet, I feel like we're missing most of the stereotypes this year.

It's Starting!

He's finally starting! First thing in the morning, Joey looks at me and says, "I want to pee in the toilet."

We've been pushing it a little bit for the week or so, ever since I plopped him on the toilet post-bath and he peed (probably by accident, but that's never the point). He knows that he gets candy if he pees, so that little dude tries. I don't know if it's a sweet tooth or just a real appreciation of reward - personally, I'm going with sweet tooth - but the possibility of candy sets him dancing. Literally. Last night he did his first pee-get candy-immediately ask to pee again. We are so excited we don't know what to do with ourselves, and it's fantastic that he's so excited, too.

Soon, soon, no more handling of other people's poop. That day can't come soon enough.

Daydreams Aren't Always Dreamy

Sam, to mama:
"I can't fly my rocket ship!"
"Why not?"
"The guy in front of me won't even move his!!"

Unexpected

Kids grow up; I know this. It even happened to me once. As a parent, it's one of the few constants. We know it's going to happen - we see that it has happened. Sometimes, though, the actual fact of it hits home in unexpected ways.

Sam runs like a real person.

You know how little kids run? They kind of remind me of groundhogs. A groundhog running looks like a fur-covered bag of bowling bowls rolling down a hill. Little kids look like that, only less coordinated (and without the fur). Watching Joey run on the sidewalk is a great cardio workout for me; my heart never stops pounding. Every step looks like it might be The Step, the one that is just a little bit more out of control than all the others, the one that will ultimately lead to the bandaid drawer. Sam used to run the same way.

Yesterday Sam and I were searching for treasure (and fighting monsters and outrunning giant rattlesnakes and chopping down trees and lighting cookfires) and I was running behind him down the street. It hit me then, watching this short drink of water pelting down the sidewalk, that I wasn't worried about him bailing with every footfall. He was running like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he'd been doing it forever. He was running like birds fly, or monkeys climb, or teenagers eat. It was beautiful.

I know that he's still a kid, and a little kid at that. I know that he'll still fall and that the bandaids will get used. I know that there are plenty of things left for him to do, and plenty of time for us to share while he does them.

He is growing up, though. I think I need to go give him a hug while we're still running together.

I Know It's A Sacrifice, But COME ON!

Joey's been waking up early for the last week or so (and he's been yelling a lot... hmm... but I digress). Typically he doesn't want to go back to sleep, but he'll frequently chill out for a bit if I lie down with him. Quite frankly, if I can get an extra 6 minutes of sleep before tiny fingers start digging into my nose, I'm going to jump at the opportunity.

This morning, he didn't want me in bed with him. Fine; I curled up on the floor with his cast-off blanket and an old couch cushion that now seems to live in his room. Not five minutes later, Joey decided to come join me. He crawled out of bed, plopped himself down on the floor next to me... and stole my pillow. And then proceeded to steal the blanket. I'm not even allowed to sleep uncomfortably now, apparently!

I'm pretty sure he fell back asleep; I enjoyed a little alone time - sorry; a little "only person awake" time - wedged between a snoozing two year old and an ottoman.

Latently Psychic

I'm starting to think that Joey might be. Silly, and I don't really think so, but he's done a couple of things lately that make stop and think, at least.

The first was a couple of weeks ago. The phone rang, and Joey piped up, "Nanny!" Sure enough, it was. No big deal; kids barely seem to know what they're saying most of the time. Last week, I was going through some old stuffed animals after the kids went down and pulled out a Lightning McQueen pillow that had been in a bin for months. When Joey woke up in the morning, I told him I had something for him (the pillow was on the recliner downstairs). "Yitening McQueen piyyow!" he says. That struck me as weird, but he did have another pillow with Lightning McQueen on it, and maybe he was thinking of that. The real kicker was on the weekend.

On Saturday we had both kids out and both cars. On the way home, I was following Julie. She pulled into the driveway, but Sam and I kept going to take a peek at a yard sale down the street. Apparently, although Julie didn't know I wasn't following any more, Joey said, "Daddy drive away!" A couple of minutes later, after a text and a phone call from Julie (neither of which I answered before I got home), once again Joey spoke up: "Here he comes!" At that point, of course, I came around the corner and pulled into the driveway.

I know, in most of my head, that it's nothing. In most of my head.

But still...

Patient AND Devious

I didn't think he had it in him, to be honest.

Last night Joey put his head down on Julie's shoulder around bedtime and closed his eyes. He stayed that way, immobile, eyes closed and breathing deeply, for a good 10 minutes, at which point he popped up, looked Mama straight in the face, and said, "Ha ha!"

Pretty soon I will see personality traits in my children that don't make me fear for my own future, right? Right?

Stonewalled

So I know kids are getting older earlier, but isn't 4 a bit young for a teenager? This is Sam's conversation with his mother today:
"What did you do at preschool today?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I don't remember. I don't remember anything."
"Did you do French?"
"Nope."
"Did you do Music?"
"Nope."
"Did you do Art?"
"Nope."
"Did you do Science?"
"...yes."
"Ah! What did you do in Science?"
"I don't know."
*pause for comedic fourth-wall-breaking look*

As it turns out, his day - apparently - consisted of going outside once, putting blue cylinders in order, and then sitting on the floor.

Money well spent, I'm sure. :)

From The Mouth Of A Babe

Julie, on supper time:
It's like pulling teeth, only you don't even get teeth!

She's No Bugs Bunny

We were trying to get Joey to eat his dinner tonight; he was just being trying. At one point, Julie asked him to sit in his chair, as he was sliding out of it. "I am," he said. "Eat your dinner," she said. "I am," he replied again. Then she got all clever-like.

"Don't climb out of your chair!"
"I am."
"Don't you drink your water!"
"I am."
"Don't you eat your soup!"
"...ok..." he said.

We're gonna be in soooo much trouble as the rugrats get older...

That Was Clever!

At bedtime tonight Joey was kicking out the way he used to do - straight into my crotch. I told him not to, that it hurt me when he did that. Sam piped up, "It hurts Daddy, it hurts Mama, it hurts me, it hurts everyone in the world." He paused for a moment, then followed up, "It even hurts astronauts!"

At Least He's Learning!

Joey's trend of self-narration continues, much to my delight. It's as cute as a bagful of buttons to hear a 2-year-old slush out, "I'm eating!" around a mouthful of Honeycomb.

We were walking down the stairs first thing yesterday morning with the boy holding my hand, and I knew that he was thinking about something we've been talking about lately. "I'm walking down the stairs!", he said. "I'm walking down the stairs!" Then he looked at me, all wide-eyed, and solemnly intoned, "I'm NOT jumping down the stairs... I'm walking down the stairs!"

Good man!

That Dirty Rat!

I picked Joey up from Brad's house today as usual and Brad says to me, "You should hear what he did..."

Apparently, one of the other kids at Brad's house - who is frequently a handful - absolutely scarfed his dinner in order to get chocolate cake for desert. As Brad was handing him his cake, Joey piped up, "Brad, look at that!"

He was pointing to the other boy's dinner, hidden under his chair.

I don't know if he's a snitch, a saint, or a s#!t disturber, but I laughed and laughed.

Must Be The Phase Of The Moon

I was going to write this last night, but it turns out it was just as well that I waited; tonight would have been a duplicate posting.

My children are crazy.

It's possible that they've both hit "an age" at the same time; maybe their temperaments are starting to match like women's periods will after living together; maybe it's the changing of the seasons. Whatever it is, they've both gone utterly mad.

Mornings are typically ok, but evenings are insane. They oscillate between totally cheerful and completely melted down, frequently within moments. Actually, let me modify that; they go from happy to freaking out within moments. Going back to happy takes way longer than it should (though it is a sudden as a rainbow when they do).

Joey has started screaming like a banshee when he's upset, and Sam has been losing his s#$t at the drop of a hat. Joey will immediately start to wail if something isn't just right - like, say, he doesn't get to eat candy for supper - and then sulk (if we're lucky) or really scream (if we're not). Sam refused to sit on the right in the bathtub - where Joey was already sitting - freaked out when I pulled him out, wailed to be let back in, then refused to touch the water. (Literally; he held himself above the water with hands on one side of the tub and his feet on the other.) Freaked out when I pulled him out then, too.

They've been doing this for a couple of days now, and it's really hard to still be gentle and empathetic (though something is certainly pathetic...)

This too shall pass; I'm just hoping it does so quickly. It'd be nice if the kids survived until, say, Christmas.

He Does Like Yelling

Joey woke up from his nap today and was... a little odd. He's often grumpy when he wakes up; he grunts and growls at us when we go in to get him, and he scowls something fierce. Today, though...

I asked him if he wanted to come downstairs; he declined. That's ok, he often wants a couple of minutes on his own before he comes downstairs on his own. Sure enough, he came to the top of the stairs a few minutes later, still growling. Julie picked him up and carried him down...
...and he started crying. Wailing, really, howling. After 10 minutes or so, I asked him if he wanted to go back to his room. He said yes, and we went up and he sat on his bed in the dark with the door closed (all his requests). He continued to cry.

I asked him if was ready to come down; he very calmly told me that he wasn't, and that he wanted some more time. I said ok, closed the door again and he immediately burst into tears. I opened it quickly to see what was wrong, but when I asked, he again told me - very calmly still - that he wasn't ready yet. "Do you just want to cry?" I asked. "Yes," he said, and the wailing began anew.

He did that for about 20 minutes, then came down all sunshine and lollipops.

Kids are weird.

Movin' On

At the beginning of October, Joey is leaving Mr. Brad's house. He'll be younger than Sam was when Sam left, but we think - again - that Montessori will be good for him. He's extremely mechanically-minded (that's what I'm choosing to call it now; sometimes I call it "Stop breaking things!"), and he's got a surprisingly good attention span when something catches his brain. Plus, he'll be with - or at least near - his big brother. We think that'll be good for both of them.

I'm not going to lie; the logistic simplification will be nice for me, too.

I'm Bloggin!

Joey has been going through a self-referential phase lately. He'll go tearing by us in the house and stop momentarily to say, "I'm running!" We've also gotten "I'm eating!", "I'm drinking!", and "I'm peeing!"

My favourite, though? He's was having himself a bit of a meltdown, and, sobbing, looked at me and said, "I'm crying!"

Don't Worry; Sam Is A Fish Too

And his evidence:

We Had Fish

...instead of children. Exhibit A, for your viewing pleasure:



Exhibit B:



As of Saturday, Joey decided that he didn't need (or want) somebody helping him in the pool. I had him hooked on to the side of the pool while I threw Sam in, and Joey apparently got tired of waiting. He let go, paddled off, and yelled at me when I tried to help ("No, daddy!").

After that he did laps. Ok, one lap, but he's only two.

Sam, not wanting to be outdone, now swims with one water wing and is practicing swimming with his head submerged. Yes, it's funny to watch when he's wearing buoyancy devices.

Joey now does the same with two water wings.

Sam will also swim underwater with no water wings, and he looks as comfortable doing it as a penguin. (He's not so good yet with overwater without water wings, but we're working on it.)

I fully expect Joey to escalate this week. Even though he doesn't view it as escalation, Sam obviously does. This can only be good in terms of entertainment value.

Happy Birthday, Joey!!

I realize that the post is going up a couple of days late, but I swear, we sang on the day...

Joey is now 2. I'm going to repeat that, because it freaks me out a little.

Joey is now 2.

He hasn't been a baby for quite a while at this point, but there's still something about hitting "little boy" age. Nobody expects anything from a one-year-old (at least, nobody who isn't about to get disappointed), but 2 just seems so much older.

Yes, I realize it's double. Quit hasslin' me.

He talks like a boy, runs around with The Crazy like a boy, laughs at burping, is fascinated by bugs and poop... it wasn't all that long ago that he was an extremely sober, wide-eyed, silent infant.

Quite frankly, I like him more the older he gets. I don't expect that to change any time soon.

Sam Does Math

I had no idea that he could do math the way he does. It's one of those surprise things that he comes out with every now and then that just about put me on the floor. He was doing addition with Julie, he does some subtraction with me, and the other day I said that I'd done 2/3rds of something, and he pipes up, "So there's one third left?"

It might have been a fluke, but I just stared at him, jaw on my shoes.

He's doing to be smarter than me much sooner than I expected.

His First Quote!

Oh, he's going to end up a nerd after all!

At dinner tonight he was picking out onions as is his wont. I told him he didn't need to pick them all out before he ate any of it, and he says to me, "Whenever I see an onion, I just need to get it. That's just who I am, dad." It's - more or less - a line from "How To Train Your Dragon", and it was the first time he's adapted a quote for context.

I'm so proud.

Yay, THAT Phase...

About two weeks ago, Joey hit a new phase. I'm pretty sure that it was concurrent with a gigantic jump in his speech; he's now much more vocal, and understandable, and able to convey what he wants.

It's this last that I think is the issue now; because he's able to communicate, he gets upset when we don't do what he wants. Really upset. I think it's because he got very used to us jumping whenever we understood what he wanted, but now, when we don't, he melts down. Every. Single. Time. There's screaming and crying and stamping of feet. Frequently, there's running away, with the occasional crumpling to the floor. It's good times all around, really.

Sam had a similar phase, but I don't think it was quite as intense. Happily, we're not expecting it to last long; it's a toddler phase, after. Good or bad, those never last.

His First Pun!

Sam - Mama, that toot surprised me.
Julie - It surprised me, too.
Sam - It surprised me toot!

Strangest Thing I've Said In Ages

No, Mr. Rogers and Darth Vader are different people.

Our Fish

Sam liked the pool next door last year, and Joey started to enjoy himself as well. We were unprepared for it's reception this year.

Apparently, we had fish instead of children.

Aside from a surprising and terrified reluctance to swim in the deep end, Sam is doing amazingly well. He's down to one water wing - and that only because we can't convince him to try swimming without it - and is doing cross-wise laps and jumping off the sides.

Joey is a born swimmer, no doubt about it. Put him in water wings and he's happy as a clam; give him the slightest support under his belly and he's arms and legs a-buzzing. He's thrilled to be in the water, and both of them will stay in well past the point when they're shivering and turning a lovely shade of purple.

I have a feeling this summer will be one of dirt and water in roughly equal quantities.

The Sandbox

So I built a sandbox for the boys last summer and, for reasons that will forever be lost in time and are in no way simple (yet impressive!) procrastination, the sand for said box arrived this weekend.

Wow.

Some things are a hit as soon as they appear; the sandbox is such a thing. I think they racked up multiple hours of sandbox time each over the weekend, which was pretty impressive, considering it didn't get filled until midday Saturday.

The true genius of it, if I do say so myself, is it's location. It's on the back deck directly across from the kitchen window. We can stay in the air conditioned interior and watch them occupy themselves.

I knew this day would come. This is the day that we've been dreaming about. This is the day we can say "Go outside and play". And they do.

Good Nights

Joey is learning the routine and the phrases for bedtime. He now says "I love you", and "Bed, please" and, of course, "Good night". That last one gets a /lot/ of play; we now say good night to:

-Lion (stuffed animal number 1)
-Lobster (stuffed animal number 2)
-all the Sesame Street decals in the bathroom (there are eight, I believe)
-the various Nemo stickers in the bathroom (there are four)
-mummy
-daddy
-and, of course, Sammy

Some days it's more of a production than others, but it's always entertaining (especially when he gives his stuffed animals good night kisses).

He's Getting Quick...

The new game at dinner tonight was to name as many fruits as possible, then vegetables, then colours, then candies. Julie said, "Junior Mints." Quick as wink came the reply: "Senior Mints!"

Too clever for his good, that one is.

(I haven't figured out yet whether Joey is as clever as his brother... or cleverer.)

Lines You Didn't Expect To Say

"Don't stab my toes with forks!"

"You can cover your bum and your penis if you want to."

"Boy I hope that was already in your hand."

Insert your own context here. It would probably be more entertaining than the actual thing.

One of the most interesting things I'm discovering as a parent is how incredibly mundane the strangest situations can be. I mean, it's not that normal to have to come up with a story starring Batman and a talking watermelon for someone who's pooping. And yet, when it happens enough times, it stops being strange when you're there...

I Guess That Makes Sense

Sam told me today that he likes maggots "because they're cute". "Cute?" I said. "Yes, because they're so small," he answered.

I figure I'll let that one go. If the writhing and eating of rotting food doesn't put him off, why should I?

Success!!

Both slept through the night. When Joey woke up (a little earlier than usual, but I wasn't pushing it), he was sitting up when I walked into his room. He climbed out of bed (!) and came right over to me, arms up so that I could carry him downstairs.

Sam, as expected, was just fine.

The Grand Experiment, pt 328

As of about an hour ago, Joey is now sleeping in a big boy bed, and Sam is now sleeping in a bed without rails. I have no idea what Joey is going to do when he wakes up in the morning; I'm assuming that Sam will not roll out of bed in the middle of the night.

Will provide a follow-up in the morning. Assuming we're able to. May God have mercy on us all.

Um, What?

Julie took Joey to the grocery store today. She had to pick up a card (among other things). Apparently, Joey went nuts when they went into the card aisle:
"No, no, no no no nononono! 'Top! No no!" he said.

Since when does a 21-month care what cards we buy?

Talking Up A Storm

Boy, is he ever. Sometimes, it's even with real words!

Joey is hitting that point where verbalization moves from noise to words, and it's really cool to see. Er, hear. Over the last couple of weeks, he's really started phrasing his noises; it was obvious that he was trying to say specific things, but that he didn't have the words for them. That's now starting to change.

Last night as Julie was rocking him before bed, he looked up at her and said, "Bye, mama." She put him in his crib and asked if he wanted the blanket. "Banket," came the response. "Bye, mama. Uvoo."

This morning he came with me to wake up "Nammy". "Mornin Nammy! Hi! Mornin Nammy!" Then (my personal favourite) "Mornin Nambo!"

He says please, thank you and you're welcome, he's starting to ask for things by name, and he's yelling a lot less. (At least, he's yelling out of frustration a lot less. Still a lot of yelling.) It's very cool; I can't wait until the boys can really talk to each other.

Maybe then I can go pee all by myself.

I Thought It Was A Myth

So, there is tons of misinformation spread by parents to non-parents, all designed to entice them into joining the fold. This misinformation comes in two flavours:

1) The optimistic lie. These make child-rearing sound like butterflies and puppies, with never a mention of having to take the puppy outside to pee at -30 weather in the middle of the night, or how badly enough butterflies can mess up an intake vent. "You'll wonder how you managed without them." "They always light up the room." "Have more; they'll play with each other and give you time to yourself."

2) The make-it-sound-awful lie, or the Military Recruitment Pitch. These are designed to make people think to themselves, "It can't be that bad; I can totally do it!" "I haven't slept in 4-6 weeks." "My son just screamed for three days straight." "Better enjoy sex for making them... *spoken ominously*"

This weekend I ran into what I thought had been one of the Recruitement Pitch lies. Last week I had to wake Sam up on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. I guess he's been tired; he's probably growing, etc, etc, etc. S'ok, I told him. You can sleep as long as you want on Saturday and Sunday. He was happy at the prospect, so naturally he was up at the crack of 6am. Oh, I thought to myself. Guess he's doing better.

This morning? Drag him out of bed at 7am.

How do they know while they're sleeping??

Now You Know You're Cute

Joey discovered the front camera on the iPhone tonight. I'll let the results speak for themselves.

The Tea Party

So, that was just super cute. There was a "tea party" at Sam's preschool on Thursday to which the parents were invited. Aside from me thinking it was the wrong day initially (and no, of course I didn't just show up two days early), it was pretty great. The parents arrived a bit early and got to watch the tail end of the preparations, and then we were invited in.

"WELCOME TO OUR TEA PARTY! PLEASE FIND YOURSELVES A CHAIR!" was the entrance chorus from 16 gleaming 4-6 year old faces. We got to see the manners they'd been working on all week as the littl'uns all sat quietly, hands in laps. They were each invited to serve the cookies and kool-aid that they'd made to their parents - most of them even did so, rather than eating the first cookies themselves. There was much "please"ing and "thank you"ing, some songs, and then some surprisingly good cookies.

(The best part, of course, was confirmation that our son is the handsomest child in the land. Though there was one little girl there who would make some pretty littl'uns...)

It's almost like he's getting to be a real person. It's a fascinating process to watch, and I'm enjoying most minutes of it.

Overheard This Morning

"Mama, I heard a loud sound."
"What was it?"
"It was a noise like Granda makes."

The Secret To Great Comedy

Joey's got it, even at 20 months. (It's timing, by the way, and if I could have figured out how to yell that in the middle of a blog post, I would have.) We'll be playing silly little games - peekaboo, pretending to be asleep, making faces, that sort of thing - and he'll play, play, play, then pause... then play some more. You have to see it to know exactly what I mean, but he's got the comedic pregnant pause down pat. It's actually really impressive, both that he's trying to be funny and that he's succeeding so well.

We're Not Quite Sure...

We went to the Museum of Science and Technology on the weekend. Looks like it might be a neat place, if, you know, one got the time to look at any of the exhibits. I digress.

Joey and I were near one of the exhibits when a family came walking out of it and down the nearby stairs. He stopped, for all the world like he was waiting for them. As they approached, he suddenly dropped to all fours and started to bark at them, then he crawled off - still barking.

As if that wasn't strange enough, he then did a passable Downward Dog and scooted around with his forehead on the floor. (I have a video; I'll post it when I get a chance.)

Apparently he did the same thing at daycare yesterday for 20 minutes at a time, and then stopped to rub his head. I mentioned to Brad that I didn't remember Sam being quite so... erratic; Brad said he wasn't - Joey's just weird.

That's my boy.

Oh Yeah, That's Me!

Wanna hear the news? Apparently, I'm the best daddy in the world. I have it on good authority.

Giving Up

I think that time has finally come; I think we're pretty much done with cloth diapers. After almost 4 years, we sorta feel like we've discharged our environmental duty (which I know isn't really the way things work), and the PITA factor finally outweighs the convenience of disposables. We still try to find "environmentally-friendly" diapers, but to be honest, I normally just get the ones that are most on sale.

Farewell, little diapers. We had a good run; it's us, not you. I hope we can still be friends.

Wait, what?

We've recently redone the playroom in such a way that now there is actually room to, you know, play. Well, the boys were in there tonight and Joey (who is suffering through another diaper rash) was naked. He was also very leaky, resulting in Sam saying, "Joey! Stop peeing like a preying mantis!"

I'm still trying to figure that one out.

The Worst Thing Ever

Oatmeal. Apparently.

Mama and Sam and I had a fight today. He has developed an unfortunate habit of asking for food - particularly food that has to be prepared in some way - and then not touching it. We've told him many a time that he just can't do that; today was the day we backed that up.

He asked for some instant oatmeal, so Julie gave him some. He balked. Completely. To make a long story short, it was two and a half hours of him asking for various foods and us saying no. He wailed, we yelled, he cried, we ignored him, Sam and went back and forth with "I want an apple." "Eat your oatmeal." "No!" "Then you can't have an apple." "...I want an apple." for a good ten minutes.

We made pancakes, and ate them in front of him, while he stared at the single last spoonful that we were asking him to eat.

I don't feel bad about that.

It may have been a texture thing, as when he finally ate it in little teeny bites, he seemed pretty happy with it. One thing is for sure; I'm not making him anymore oatmeal.

The Best Thing Ever

Want to know the best thing ever? Take a sheet or blanket or towel and throw it over your head. Better yet, get someone else to throw it over your head.

If you asked Joey, I'm not sure he could come up with anything better.

About a week ago, he started playing that game at bedtime. I'd throw a blanket over him, and he would shriek with glee, do little dances, and eventually spin until he got dizzy and fell over. Then he would crawl away and come charging back to do it all again. He now will run to the bed, grab the blanket and bury his face in it, then look at me and say, "Again!"

Man, and I thought three-year-olds were easily entertained.

Where Did That Come From??

(At supper last night)
Mama: I like strawberries.
Sam: No, you like penises.

... wow.

Two New Boys

I don't know what caused it exactly, but the week after Sam was sick was phenomenal. Our two boys, who had been, quite frankly, a pain in the butt for weeks, were completely changed.

Where Sam had been tending towards truculence, recalcitrance and sullenness, all of sudden he was happy and helpful, eager to listen, polite and an absolute joy to be with.

Joey, who had been secretly replaced with a yelling homunculus, was now pleasant, reasonably quiet except when he was particularly happy (his general yell now is, "Yay!") and an absolute joy to be with.

They - and consequently, I - slept terribly, but I would honestly trade sleep for the two of them like that any day. It's weeks like that that make everything totally worth it.

Two Birthday Parties

I guess Sam is now that age; he's started to get birthday party invitations. He went to two parties in the last two weeks, and they really couldn't have been more different - especially in terms of his reaction to them.

The first was with a pre-school friend. Sam was extremely excited to get the invitation, and it was to one of the local sports complexes to play ball hockey, which is something he really likes to do. We got to the place and Sam spent the next two hours glommed onto my leg. He didn't want to play, he didn't want to run, he didn't want to talk to or play with the other kids, nothing. All he wanted was to stay with me. Don't get me wrong; it's flattering and all, and I like him, but I was really expecting him to play with the other kids, particularly when he knew most of them and enjoyed the activity. (It didn't help that none of the other parents were playing - or that none of the other kids were doing anything similar. My hangup, I know, but there you have it.)

The second was with a friend of Julie's, and it was at his house. His grandfather had prepped tool box parts for all the boys to put together. Sam both really enjoyed it and was really good at it. It probably helped that all the other dads were also present and helping, and that there were only 5 kids doing it. He ended up playing cars at least near, if not with, some of the other kids after cake.

I really don't know what to make of it, or what to take away from it all in terms of what he likes and how he reacts. I did rediscover that he doesn't really like cake, so at least it was a little educational.

Yay! Ear Infections!

We've had our first one! *sigh*

Sam was out of pre-school for a week, sick and (mostly) miserable. He started complaining on Sunday, and when we brought him to the doctor's on Monday, they thought it might be viral. That meant sucking it up for a couple of days while it got better on it's own... which it didn't. Antibiotics on Thursday meant that he was good to go again by Sunday.

The first of many, I'm sure; yippee.

Best Non-Sequitur of the Decade

Sam dialed Nana's number, calling her back after we missed her call. The first thing out of Sam's mouth? (Keep in mind that Sam is making this call on his own; neither Julie nor I have touched the phone.)

"Nana, how did Elvis's plane crash?"

There was, understandably, some confusion on the other end of the line.

Mama's Birthday

(Christmas wrap-up to follow.)

Today is mama's birthday. I, being a most excellent father and husband, asked Sam last week what he wanted to get for mama, because we buy presents for the people we love on their birthdays.

I swear, his answer was more thoughtful than I expected from a 3-year-old, precocious or not. We bought mama a red pot because:
- mama is a really good cooker.
- red is her favourite colour.

Wow. Either I teach some things really well, or I've gotta start taking lessons from my almost-4-year-old.