Vocab

Somebody arrived home yesterday, plowed through the snack food like there's no tomorrow, and then begged for more.

Me: Have a glass of ice water.

Somebody: Water?? That's like eating plankton.

Kackleberry Farm

Feeling No Pain

I am running around like my hair's on fire trying to get a long-overdue article completed, get a rudimentary Christmas list moving forward, and honor Tim on his 12th birthday. Meanwhile, John is chillin' with his chocwate milk.

Look Who's Talking!

The "experts" say you shouldn't encourage baby talk. I say lighten up! We mothers of two-year-olds deal with all manner of challenging behavior and face potty training to boot. Let's savor those elements of this stage that are sweet. Blossoming speech certainly is.

A few of John's milestones:

First word: Mama

First two-word combination: Hot Plate! (Said with a Spanish accent.)

Longest: Pwize! Aunt Patti gave it to me.

Melts my heart: Dadt! He is here! Dadt! (Followed by a high speed race to the door.)

Wish he’d never learned it: No fair!

Courtesy of his older brothers: ‘Tupid!

On itchy jammies: I don’t wike dem. Okay?

He’s a boy: It need new battweez.

On Ainsley: I hold it!

An odd one: It’s mah thumb dwive!

Three cheers for the two-year-olds in our lives. They are, indeed, pwecious.

At Least He's Honest

So we ranted and raved and reminded a certain somebody - we'll call him incognito - about something that had to happen at school today. Here's the first exchange of the morning:

Me: So what's going to happen at school today?

Incognito, quite cheerfully: Not a clue!

At least he's honest. And he makes me laugh.

Lost and Found

When our first was a toddler, we, like all parents of toddlers, would find things in the oddest places. When an item would turn up missing, Dave would say, "Think like Tim."

The lock and key to our shed vanished the other day. I searched and hunted and finally said to myself, "Think like John."

John loves to throw things in the bushes. Off I went to rifle through the shrubs. The first four bushes produced a cache of five balls, one shoe, a shovel, and an icky sock (left to mulch the garden).

I was about to give up when I spotted the key deep in the forsythia.

Tim

I laugh (or groan) about Tim and the ginormous collection of books, comics, puzzles, etc. that he stows in his bed. As I settled into my bed the other night, I noticed the pile of books I had selected for the whopping ten minutes I planned to read before falling asleep. My pile is a tad neater than Tim's, but, yes, it's still a pile.