Monday, March 17, 2008

duh, mom

A few weeks ago I was doing something in the bathroom when Andy came running in with some sort of organic plant material all over his head. It looked like bark or mulch or something.

I said, "Andy, what in the world is on your head?"

He looked at me matter-of-factly and said, "Hair."

aw, hell

Andy spends the night at his Grandma Diane's house every other weekend. He adores her and she adores him. And it gives us a break to do fun things or necessary chore things, or relaxing things.

Sometimes, his parroting nature causes trouble. Little ears are always listening.

Yesterday we walked in the door of her house to pick him up.

I exclaimed, "Hi, Andy!"

He looked up casually from the car he was playing with and said, "Dammit!"

Thursday, March 13, 2008

surprise exclamations

I just changed Andy's diaper.

I opened the diaper to see the severity of what I was dealing with, and said, "Wow, Andy."

He said, "Whooooo doggy!"

energy vampire

I swear, my kid is a succubus.

I wake up in the morning and from the moment I lift him out of his crib, I am serving him. I am devoting every waking moment - save for one or two on the toilet - to his needs, wants and whims. Yesterday was a whirlwind of activity and I spent even more time attending to him than I normally do. I didn't get my quiet two hours in the early morning when he plays with his trains and I drink coffee and read the news. Yesterday we had his Kindermusik class at 9am and from there the day unfolded in a long string of outings, public bum-wipings and debit card swipings. I got a little less than two hours while he napped and then it was back in the saddle. He was a good boy, but he really did become an energy vampire.

At 4pm we were in his room, the evidence of his tornadic activity all over the floor. I was lying in a pile of his dirty laundry, which he'd removed piece by piece from his hamper. I had 16 crayons at my feet and several pieces of paper on which were drawn bunnies and balloons and anything else he wanted to see. Many of the crayons had been beheaded by his teeth. There was yet another pile of Q-tips in the corner - I have no idea where he's getting these things but he throws them everywhere. And as I was reading him a story he toddled over to his bag of pizza-flavored Goldfish (the snack of champions) and held it upside down and shook until they all came out on the carpet. And of course we have a plethora of toys too, generally little wooden ones that are just the right size for ankle-spraining.

So this is the scene.

I put on his Kindermusik cd and we listen to some music. By and by he brings me a book. "Dr. Duck" to be exact. (I picked it out at the library for him last week while he ran up and down the shelves throwing books on the floor. I of course had the pick them up and re-learn the Dewey Decimal System, which schooled my ass. Anyway, after almost a week I want to freaking kill Dr. Duck because I've read it so many times.)

So I'm lying on my belly in the dirty laundry pile and he's sitting next to me. We're reading, and then my favorite little Kindermusik song comes on and I stop for a moment, turn my head 90 degrees to the left to look at him and sing to him.

And he frowns, reaches out, shoves my head 90 degrees back to the Dr. Duck book, and says, "Read".

Ah, gratitude.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008


I had a nice, relaxing shower this morning, until I realized how quiet it was. That's never a good sign. Gone are the days when Andy sits quietly in the bathroom while I shower. Now I close all the gates and let him have the run of the upstairs, and hope that he doesn't find some way to kill himself while I'm shaving my legs.

I got out of my shower and there he was, standing in the bathroom doorway. He had 7 Q-tips in his little hands. I said, "Andy, what did you get into?" He ran off to his room.

I toweled off and put on my robe. As I rounded the corner, there he was in his room, on his floor, surrounded by 500 Q-tips.

I exclaimed, "Andy! What did you do!?"

He looked up at me, smiled, and said, "Mess."

Monday, March 10, 2008

first sentence!

Are you ready? Huge thing, here, people.

"Qwirll (squirrel) go up tree!"

Saturday, March 8, 2008

kiss daddy

We were saying goodnight to Andy just a few minutes ago. Every night we say goodnight to the things on his mantle ("Goodnight plant, goodnight snowman, goodnight wooden ducks...") and a few other things in the room. Then we hug him goodnight and put him in his crib.

Well, about 4 months ago he learned (as I've mentioned below) that asking for extra Mom hugs is a great way of stalling. That, coupled with his anti-Dad stance of late makes it hard for poor Shawn, though he generally does get a hug at the last minute.

Tonight we said goodnight to everything on the mantle. We said goodnight to the mist (aka the humidifier). He asked for a hug from Mommy. I hugged him. Then I told him to hug his daddy.

Shawn picked him up and he said, "Oh no no no no Daddy!"

Friday, March 7, 2008

pay the toll

As we were playing with Andy's choo choo trains, I took a minute to sit on the stairs next to the train table. Andy walked around it in circles, fascinated with his little miniature Thomas the Trains. After a few minutes, I barred his way with my leg and said, "You must pay the toll. The toll is one kiss!"

He looked down at the choo choo in his hands and then held it up to my lips.

what's in your pants?

Andy is just starting to grasp the basic meaning of going potty. He's not ready for potty training yet, but he is well aware of the process of the bodily function. And now he can tell me what's going on.

So I'll ask him: Andy, honey, what's in your pants?

And he'll look at me, matter-of-factly, and say: Poop!

The thing is, he started faking me out and I'd go running over with a new diaper and wipes and strip him down and it would be a complete lie; there was no poop.

So now I double check: Andy, is there poop in your pants?

Andy: Yeah. (Think Rain Man 'yeah')

Me: Is there really poop in your pants?

Andy: No.

Basically I think I'm going to have to keep checking for myself, because I never get a straight answer.

Thursday, March 6, 2008


Screaming on the floor.

Me: Mommy isn't going to pick you up if you're screaming, Andy.

Andy: Come on!