pregnancy with a 3-year-old

Me: Andy, I'll be right back. I have to go upstairs and throw up.

Andy: Wait Mommy! I'll go with you!!!


He did, too.

boing

Last night, December 23rd, we decided we couldn't take it anymore. Andy was using the furniture as a springboard, bouncing from couch to ottoman to chair to floor to dog's back....the furniture in our rumpus room is old and I want it to last through the next bouncy kid as well. Seeing as he was alive with so much toddler energy, we decided to give him his biggest present 36 hours early.

So entered the trampoline.

He was thrilled. It's a little exercise trampoline and the number of sweet, unsolicited thank-yous we've received is astounding. I didn't know he had such manners in him. He's in love with it. He asked so politely if he could bring down his pillow and blanket and sleep on his trampoline. And he bounced the hell out of it. For hours.

He'd been on his trampoline a total of 35 seconds when he fell off and landed on his face. (Way to go, parents.) And I looked at Shawn and said, "I give him one month before he figures out that he can drag it over to the couch and jump from couch to trampoline." Shawn agreed.

154 seconds later, Andy dragged his trampoline over to the couch and scaled the back of it. He stood on the top, bounced down to the cushions and onto the trampoline. And then onto the floor and his face.

maybe next year

My Christmas talk with Andy about baby Jesus last night rapidly de-evolved into questions about whether it was possible to catch an angel in a net, from within a box, on a train.

it had to happen

Today the thumb of humiliation squashed me flat.

I had an o.b. appointment which took forever. Andy was such a good boy, so patient and well-behaved. (Clearly a switch was made and it wasn't my kid at all but an imposter.) After an hour and a half of waiting we were seen and sent downstairs to the lab. But at the hospital, before you can have anything at all done, you have to register. So we sat and waited some more. And Andy asked question after question. His little brain is a sponge, soaking up the world around him. Who am I to deny him in his quest for knowledge? I always give him an answer, though sometimes it's downright obnoxious.

When we were called back to office #3 to register, we were seated before the desk of an overly-masculine woman with very, very short hair. She was a larger lady and there wasn't much that was girly about her.

Andy looked puzzled for a moment and then pointed right at this woman and asked, "Mommy, what is that man's name?"

I stumbled, I scrounged, I grasped, but I don't think I saved it. She knew.

schna!

This morning we woke up to a beautiful white snowfall. I was up most of the night watching it come down, so I was really excited to show Andy when he woke up. As soon as I heard him stirring at 7:20 a.m. I went into his room, got down on his bed and said, "Andy I have a surprise for you!"

He woke right up and said, "What is it, Mommy?"

I said, "Look out the window!"

He got out of his covers, stood up, and went over to his window. He pulled back his blinds and saw the beautiful scene.

I asked, "What do you think, Andy?"

He smiled and said, "I smell poop!"

guffaw

Just a moment ago, while repeatedly blasting the horn on his garbage truck toy....

"Listen Mommy! I hear something horny!"

the funniest

On school mornings, 3 days a week, I have a lot to accomplish. I have to get myself ready and Andy ready and breakfasted and out the door with his father. Shawn has a bit of a tendency to sleep in as late as possible, so I've found a way around that. At 7:30 I wake up my son and he generally bounces out of bed. I hug him and send him into our bedroom to wake up his father. Andy opens the door, barges in loudly, and proceeds to take Booba, his little bunny, and whack his father on the butt several times. He then climbs onto the bed and beats Shawn from the other side.

Now, because Shawn never reads my blogs I can reveal this: this is all my doing. Andy didn't think of this Booba-butt-beating thing on his own. I remind him every morning to go in and 'beat Daddy on the butt with Booba until he wakes up'. Shawn thinks it's all Andy's idea so he doesn't mind too much. He thinks it's a cute I-love-Daddy thing. But I always stand in the doorway and laugh myself stupid.

This morning Andy went in and whacked his father a few times on the rump. Then he turned to me in the dim light and said, "Mommy, which side is the butt on?" I told him that Daddy's butt was facing the other way, so he climbed up on the bed and started beating Shawn from the other direction. Then he got under the covers and ooched up next to his father.

When he did this, Shawn started to wake up. He let out a big, manly yawn complete with some icky throat noises.

And Andy said, "Awww, Daddy, you're disgusting!"

why i utterly suck

For some reason last night Andy wanted to read Rikki Tikki Tavi. The book was mine when I was a kid and consists of stills from the movie and a condensed version of the plot. But, it's still a book about snakes who want to kill people.

Perhaps it was the nausea or the fact that I was distracted by how badly the Steelers were playing, but I agreed to read it to him, somehow not really hearing the little voice in my head that said, "No! Bad parent!"

So 4 pages into the book the two cobras, Nag and Nagaina, are plotting the death of the family, hiding in the bathroom. And it's at this point where I realize I've made a huge mistake. But I didn't put the book down because then it would have been even more apparent that there was something in the story for a little boy to be terrified of. Rather, I began editing. Alas, it's pretty hard to edit when the entirety of the plot, once again, revolves around snakes who want to kill people.

I did my best but should have followed my initial instincts to close the book. How do I know this?

Because 30 seconds after we kissed him goodnight and closed the door he began to sob. I thought, "Oh crap," and went back in there. And he was sitting in the dark clutching his Booba and he said, "Mommy I just had a dream about bad snakes in the bathroom!"

D'oh!

the man's alphabet

Andy is working hard on his alphabet sounds. He asks me what letter a word starts with. (Actually he says, "Mommy what letter does B start with?" Pretty close.) And then we sound it out. He's got a good grasp on at least 40% of the letters and their sounds. He sounds out everything. For hours at a time.

At school yesterday he was practicing.

"Miss Kim, booger starts with B!"

Miss Kim apparently stifled laughter and said, "Yes, Andy."

"And do you know what else starts with B? BARF!"

disturbing!

We were in the car going shopping and asked Andy whether he was hoping for a little brother or a little sister. He initially said he wanted a brother, then changed his mind and said sister, then changed it again.

Then he said, "Daddy I want five babies."

Shawn paled, steadied himself and said, "No Andy, we're only having one baby."

Andy frowned, and pouted, and yelled. "I WANT FIVE BABIES!!!"

also at dinner

He looked at his father and said, "Shawn, will you cut my noodles?"

distinctions

Andy's dinner contained broccoli tonight. Just yesterday he remarked how much he liked broccoli.

Me: Andy, aren't you going to eat any of your broccoli?

Andy: [silence]

Me: I thought you just said you like broccoli, buddy.

Andy: I like broccoli. I just don't like the way it tastes.

not too far off

Andy: Why are you always feeling sick, Mommy?

Me: Well, Andy, Mommy has something in her tummy right now that makes her feel nauseous.

Andy: Oh. Is it a gross worm?

cosmologically challenged

The place: my bed.

The time: 1:59 a.m.

The situation: I have just spent the prior day in agonizing abdominal pain, for which I did eventually go see a doctor and was pronounced okay. But I'm tired and I'm still hurting. And it's the middle of the night.

The sound: Wailing on the Andy-monitor.

Shawn is dead asleep and obviously not waking up no matter how much I kick him, so I drag my very painful body into Andy's room as he cries, "Mommy! Mommy!"

As I enter his room he's sitting in his bed crying.

Me: What's wrong Andy? [Imagine that in my most exhausted voice.]

Andy: Mommy there's something there!

Me: Where?

Andy: Right there. [He points to his window.]

Me: There's something on your window?

Andy: There's something outside my window.

[I pull back the blinds.]

Andy: There's something big and white in the sky!

Me: [in an even more exhausted voice] That's the moon, Andy.

Andy: Oh.

[Pause]

Andy: But what's that little white thing next to the moon!?!?

Me: That's a star, Andy.

Andy: Oh. Okay. Goodnight Mommy.

priorities

This morning Andy woke up an hour earlier than normal, which is always a real joy. I gathered our morning supplies, which include his chocolate milk, my chocolate milk, my coffee and a bowl of powdered sugar mini-donuts. (Hey, shut up. I feel lousy and it's the crack of dawn.) It was a lot to juggle and he didn't offer to help me carry any of it down to the rumpus room (aka basement). So I put his sippy cup in my bathrobe pocket, balanced the donuts on my forearm and had a cup in each hand, one with scalding hot coffee.

I made it all the way to the last step and the bowl with the mini-powedered sugar donuts tipped and the little donuts flew everywhere.

I muttered, "Oh rats..." but Andy was very concerned.

"Be very careful Mommy!"

I said, "Okay, Andy. I'm just picking up your donuts."

"Just be very careful, Mommy! It's very dangerous when you drop my donuts!"

no surprise

We were in the car coming home the other night and Shawn was light-heartedly teasing Andy about something. But Andy wasn't in the mood and said, "Knock it off, Daddy."

Daddy didn't take the hint very well, and Andy said, "Have respect, Daddy!"

Shawn said, "Okay Andy, I will. And maybe you could show a little more respect than you have lately to Mommy and Daddy too?"

And in a sing-song voice with a smile on his face, he said pleasantly, "I won't."

for sale: andy

Tonight we experienced the full force of Hurricane Andy. The tantrum to end all tantrums. It was a thing to behold.

To condense the long, agonizing experience into a few paragraphs, we'll pick up about halfway through the screaming. (And I do mean screaming.)

Shawn had Andy in the shower, and Andy was shrieking bloody, furious murder. He was so enraged because....well, I don't know why he was so enraged. Everything we did seemed to make him angrier. Shawn couldn't get him to stand still for a soaping, or a shampooing. Andy was irate and wanted attention. Positive or negative, he didn't care. He just wanted a reaction. So we gave him none. Shawn was standing in the shower with a screaming, stamping 3-year-old and managed to remain totally calm. And it made Andy so furious that he began to hit Shawn as hard as he could, right in the bum. And on any other occasion we'd swiftly correct him, but this struck Shawn as so dang funny that he had to turn his back to Andy (thereby further exposing his posterior) and laugh into his hands while the little boy raged and railed and beat.

When he finally realized we were laughing hysterically at him he let out a scream (and I mean a scream), stamped his feet again, threw open the shower curtain and yelled, "I'M LEAVING!"

He stormed, naked and dripping, out of the shower, across the bathroom floor, and flung open the door.

"I'M GOING TO BED!!!"

At this point we almost were in hysterics, but we managed to calmly say, "Okay, Andy. Goodnight."

Then he whirled around, came flying back into the bathroom, slammed the bathroom door and shouted, "NOOOO! I AM NOT GOING TO BED! I'M SCARED! IT'S DARK!"

downer

Andy: Mommy, I want to tell you a story.

Me: Okay.

Andy: When I was a little kid I was playing in the yard and then I ran into the street and two cars smashed me.

silence is ominous

I should have known that it was too quiet.

I was showering and couldn't hear Andy in his room, banging around as he normally does with his toys.

When I got out and listened, the silence continued. And the house smelled funny, like formaldehyde.

I called, "Andy! What are you doing?"

"Nothing Mommy. I'm just cleaning the windows."

I went into my bedroom, and there he was beside the bed, quietly spraying red Chloraseptic Sore Throat Spray all over the glass. And wood. And wall.

The bedroom smells like a dissection lab.

determined

Tonight we were putting Andy to bed, reading him his nightly three stories. He always gets wild when he comes running out of the shower naked and jumps all over his mattress, so it takes a while for him to come down off his high.

We finished the third story and he looked at me and asked, "Can we read another book, Mommy?"

Me: "No."

Andy: "Why?"

Me: "Because it's time for bed."

Andy: "Can you say that again Mommy?"

Me: "Because it's time for bed."

Andy: "No, say 'no' again."

Me: "No."

Andy: "Well then....I'll just have to read another book myself!"

duh, mom

Me: Andy! Come into the bathroom and brush your teeth!

Andy: But.....but it's Tuesday!

he's good. he's very good.

I am sick this weekend. I caught from Andy. It's a doozie. I feel rotten.

And all I want to do is lie in my Lazy Boy and be listless and sluggish. But Andy is incapable of leaving me alone. He is with me always. If I'm on the couch, he's pressed up against me. If I'm in bed, he's pressed up against me. And it's a wonderful thing 99% of the time, because I love having him next to me to cuddle. But when I'm achy and sore and snotty and miserable, it's not as enjoyable. Because he squirms. And kicks. And wants to poke me. And play with my hair. And ask me for more juice, and gummi bears, and anything else he craves. And he can't resist harassing Nugget which causes her to jump up on the furniture onto me. And it all just sucks.

So this morning I was sitting in my Lazy Boy in a stupor, trying to rest. And up comes Andy, of course. I asked him to sit on the couch with his dad but he refused. So I let him stay for a while. And inevitably he started to squirm and kick me and wrestle with Nugget and squeal in my ear.

And after admonishing him several times, I finally picked him up and put him on the floor and told him to go play.

Of course he immediately clouded up and stuck his lip out and said, "Why are you putting me on the floor, Mommy?"

I said, "Because Mommy is sick, Andy, and you are hurting me. I don't want you up here."

And I quote the little stinker when he said, "But I just want to be loved!"

mouth!

Last night we ordered Chinese food with my parents. Andy was really riled up.

Shawn and I have a running gag about fortune cookies. Many years ago the family got together and ordered 5 meals and got 5 cookies with our orders. But when we all went into the kitchen to get our cookies, they were gone. Turns out Shawn had been secretly scarfing down all of the cookies while the rest of us were eating. And to this day I can't let it go and bring it up every time we get Chinese food. (He certainly deserves it, if you ask me.)

So last night when dinner was over we got all goofy about our fortune cookies and the two of us got up and raced each other, pushing and shoving, into the kitchen to get them.

Andy was sitting with my mom and asked her what was going on. She told him, "Andy, Mommy and Daddy are just being goofy."

She said he jumped off the couch, ran into the hallway, and screamed, "Hey you IDIOTS!"

hey andy

Yesterday we were in the car coming home from lunch at a restaurant with friends. I had the radio on and Andy was reading a book (about a duck) in his car seat.

Suddenly, the song 'Hey, Jude' came on the radio. Being one of my favorite songs, I turned it up a bit.

By the time Paul had gotten to the second verse, I heard a wail from the backseat. Andy was staring at me with his bottom lip sticking out and huge tears in his eyes, falling down his cheeks. I gasped and said, "Andy! What's wrong?"

He said, "I don't like this song, Mommy."

I figured it was really something else and Andy was only able to articulate the freshest thing on his mind - the song - to explain his misery or pain or whatever it was. So I reached back and patted his leg, told him we'd be home soon, and went back to singing Hey Jude to him.

He said it again. "I don't like this song, Mommy!" And tears again started to well up in his eyes. We were only a minute from home and for the rest of the journey his lip remained firmly in the pout position and his eyes watered.

Now I ask you, who doesn't like 'Hey Jude'?

still screwing up. me, that is.

Today I went to Petco with Nugget and Andy in tow. It was rough. I was lugging around a 28-pound bag of kitty litter, trying desperately to get assistance from the slack-jawed employees who went out of their way to ignore me, all the while watching Andy inch along the filthy floor on his belly running his hair through the dirt, shoplifting dog biscuits and secretly feeding them to Nugget behind my back.

I was fried. F-r-i-e-d.

So in the checkout line, with Nugget wrapping the leash around my leg and my shoulder partially dislocated from the weight of the tub of litter, Andy decided to start hitting the dog in the face. Just hitting her to be mean, with an evil look on his face. She couldn't understand why he was beating on her.

And I did what parents aren't supposed to do... I snapped and said, "Stop it you bad kid!"

And his face clouded up and he said, "I'm not bad!"

I immediately corrected myself and said, "No honey, you aren't bad but what you did to Nugget was very mean."

But it was too late. He pouted. Then he looked up at the cashier and said, "Hey ma'am?"

She didn't hear him, so he repeated himself. "Hey ma'am?"

Then he pointed at me and said, "Mommy hurt my feelings."

overload

I try to be a good mom when it comes to teaching my son about the world. I guess we all teach our children what we know about the world. And what I know about the world is the ocean and the wetlands. Hey, I'm a Florida Environmental Studies major. What can I say?

So when we come to the beach I really puff up like a chicken and start filling Andy's head with all of my hard-earned knowledge.

Andy knows about bivalves. He can pick them out on the beach and knows to watch as they dig into the sand. He loves sand dollars and can tell me that they're Echinoderms. He's never heard the term "seaweed" because all of my college professors objected to it. He calls it seagrass. Which it is, mind you. (He also refers to a swamp as a "wetland" and a jungle as "the rainforest". That a' boy!)

I've also been working on teaching him about shore birds. He likes the Snowy Egret, with its yellow feet. He loves Pelicans. Loves them. And this trip we've been seeing Artic Terns. I love terns. So I point them out to him often.

A little too often, I think, because yesterday as we were bobbing in the waves I said, "Look Andy! There's an Arctic Tern catching a fish!"

And he sighed. He actually sighed. And he said, without even looking at me, "You always see Artic Terns, Mommy."

Then he swam over to his dad.

emergency

We are down at the condo in Fort Myers Beach for a few weeks, enjoying a much-needed vacation.

But we had a problem. The evil chair. The evil chair is a very old, very mediocre Lazy Boy, and the mechanism for extending the footrest has been exposed. The fabric isn't covering the metal any longer. It's a hazard. And it ripped Andy's best shorts.

I was getting him off the potty (major potty success on this trip, by the by!) and noticed it. I said, "Oh Andy! That rotten old chair ripped your best shorts!"

He stuck his lip out for a second, then looked worried and said, "Mommy we'd better call the firemen to fix my pants!"

i am such a jerk

This one's a doozie.

Andy is angry at his dad again. The other night, Andy was a serious pill, and was so rotten that he ended up catching a whack on his bum. The little stinker deserved it, but for his future dignity I'll leave out the grisly toddler details of what he did. That was 48 hours ago and he's still furious with Shawn, and won't really speak to him or hug him.

When Shawn came home today, Andy was openly hostile. I asked Andy to give his dad a hug, and Andy stubbornly said, "NO!" Shawn made a sad face and pretended to cry. I said, "Oh Andy, you hurt Daddy's feelings. Go give him a hug."

And the little twerp went right up to his father and kicked him in the knee.

Yeah. What a jerk, right?

So he went and stood in the corner for a while and sobbed and said how sorry he was, and gave his father a half-hearted hug and an even more transparent apology. Then I started to get him dressed to go to his grandparents' house.

I talked to him and said what a parent should say. Blah blah blah, use your words, respect your parents, kicking is not good, pretty much everything that I know went right over his head but will eventually soak into that little skull if I say it enough times over the next ten years.

Then I said, "Andy, when you behave that way we don't want to be around you. We want you to leave." By this, I meant we wanted him to go over to his grandparents house.

But I guess that part wasn't clear because his face crumpled before me and tears came to his eyes and welled up, ready to spill out.

Brokenhearted, he said, "You don't want me here? But I live here! This is my home! You are my family!"

Oh yeah. I'm crap.

amazing logic

Tonight before bed Andy picked out a story about Clifford the Big Red Dog. This particular book was a 'word book', which has very little story but lots and lots of labeled drawings to help kids work on their vocabularies. Andy eats these books up. By now he knows a huge amount of words but he thirsts for more anyway and asks about any picture he doesn't recognize.

One page had lots of drawings of people of varying occupations. There was a doctor, a magician, a construction worker...we went through them all.

He pointed to one drawing of a man in scrubs who was holding a dog.

I said, "That's a verterinarian."

He repeated the word. "Veterinarian?"

"Yes," I said. "Do you know what a veterinarian does?"

"Holds dogs."

Quite a logical reply, wasn't it?

that's a bad nap

When I got Andy up from his nap today, he was crying and miserable. I asked, "How was your nap, Andy?"

He cried.

"It was terrible. It was a terrible nap. Nugget pushed the door open and it fell over and my head popped off!"

He wasn't kidding. That is a bad nap.

napless in seattle.

Today when I picked up Andy his teacher told me he'd said something. Something.

I hear her say it at least twice a week and every time I brace for a terrible impact. I'm just waiting for the day he tells the whole class to go to hell.

Today, Miss Sam put all the kids to bed at nap time.

But Andy didn't want to take a nap.

"I am NOT going to take a nap today."

Miss Sam asked him why not.

"Because I want to make my mommy MAD."

Miss Sam said, "But Andy, need a nap and you don't want to irritate Mommy, do you?"

Andy looked right at her and said, definitively, "I want to irritate Mommy."

buggar off, kid

We were in the car yesterday, coming back from hiking Nugget. Everybody was tired and hot and the car stunk of wet schnauzer.

Andy started kicking my seat, and I just wasn't in the mood. I asked him to stop several times. Of course, he didn't.

Shawn finally snapped, "Knock it off, Andy!"

He started to pout and whimpered, "Mommy, my Daddy told me to knock it off!" He was terribly insulted.

I turned around and said, "Then knock it off, Andy. You're kicking my seat."

"But Mommy......"

"Knock it off, Andy."

There was a moment of silence and then, to himself, with tears in his eyes he muttered, "Everybody told me to knock it off. I'm so mad at you guys..."

i don't think she can see it

Andy was on the phone with his Grandma.

From our end, we heard:

"When we go to the fair is there going to be a roller coaster I rode a roller coaster at Idlewild and it was so fast and there was a squirrel and a caterpillar and it went around in circles and maybe we'll see some sheep and there were bunnies last year can you buy me some candy at the fair have you seen my new haircut?"

And he held the telephone up to his head so his grandma could see his haircut. Only she was on the other end of the phone, so I'm not entirely sure she did.

rage against the machines

Andy is currently sitting on the floor enraged. I don't even know how to describe his anger right now. He can't get his train tracks together and every few seconds lets out a shriek of rage. He was talking to himself about it in a monologue.

"...I need help because this thing won't go on and I keep trying and it won't snap together and this won't go there it goes here instead and I can't DO IT! It doesn't GO THAT WAY!"

[insert the SCREAM of fury]

Then he said, choking on his tears, "And now I need to go outside and chill out for a while."

winged irritant

This morning, Andy was grumpy. I don't pretend to know why. He was particularly grumpy with Shawn, who tried his best to be benign.

Didn't work, though.

"Mommy, I'm angry at Daddy."

"Why, Andy?"

"Because of the bats."

(We had another bat in the house last weekend, but I still didn't understand the connection.)

"Ok, why are you angry at Daddy, then?"

"Because bats make Daddy annoying."

It's true. There's nothing more irritating than seeing your strong, protective husband lying on the floor in his underwear holding a tennis racket, swatting at the air as a bat flies in circles 10 feet above his head.

whiskey tango foxtrot

I just walked down to the basement. Andy was playing by the window sill. I asked him what he was doing.

He mumbled something that I didn't quite hear.

But then he said, plain as day, "....and look what I did to your paycheck!"

naked time

Tonight we were hustling to get Andy to bed because he didn't have a nap today and was clearly in need of sleep. We threw him in the shower and threw him out again. I barely had time to dry him properly because he was so keyed up. He ran naked into his room and jumped onto the bed.

Then, he bent over and put his head on the bed and waved his naked bum in the air, back and forth.

When I asked him what exactly he was doing, he said, "I'm waving my bum around like a floozy."

toddler language FAIL

He knocked his tower over in school today, by accident.

He said, "Oh dammit."

A little blonde girl next to him said, "Oh dammit."

A boy sitting at a table nearby said "Oh dammit."

And so it went.

he wishes

Andy was over in the corner playing with his toys, and clearly getting very angry at them. My mom and I were on the couch, talking. Suddenly we heard, "SHUTUP!!!"

I ignored it until he said it a second and third time. Then I said, quite sternly, "Andy! We do not talk that way in this family!"

Of course, being Captain Sensitive, he burst into tears and ran to his Meme. She took him on her lap and said, "Andy, Mommy and Daddy don't say 'shut up' and they don't want you to talk that way."

Andy said, "Can you get me some new parents?"

circle time

Let me preface this story by telling you that, of late, Nugget has discovered how much fun it is to snap at bugs. Bees, flies, whatever. If it crawls or buzzes, she wants to bite it and eat it. Shawn absent-mindedly referred to her as "cricket licker" the other day.

Meanwhile, at school, when the children arrive in the morning, Andy's teacher, Miss Kim, holds what's known as "Circle Time". I'm not really sure what goes on at Circle Time, but I do know they sing good morning to each child and perhaps share a little something about what is going on in that child's life.

When I arrived at school to pick up Andy today, Miss Kim came out with a strange look on her face and said she wanted to tell me what Andy had said today at Circle Time. I immediately felt uneasy and prepared myself for something humiliating.

Miss Kim said, "Andy announced to the group that Nugget ate crumbs off the floor. And I told him that it was good that he hadn't also eaten them off the floor..."

[I braced for impact.]

"....And then he said, 'Nugget's a crumb-lickah!!!' and all the children burst into hysterics.

"Then Andy said, "Nugget's a cricket lickah!!!!!'"

The children went bananas at this point and Miss Kim said 10 little 2- and 3-year-olds chanted "Cricket lickah! Cricket lickah! Cricket lickah!"

Andy, now on a performance high, shouted, "Nugget's a CRICK LICKAH!!!"

Apparently the aid, Miss Sam, looked at Kim and said she couldn't hold it any longer and burst into laughter. The adults had tears in their eyes and the children were out of control, all shouting, "Crumb lickah! Cricket lickah! Crick lickah!"

I believe it took quite some time for everyone to calm down. I lost it myself when I heard the story.

Although he didn't say anything offensive, Miss Kim's impression of the way Andy yelled, "Cricket lickah!" made it sound downright filthy.

my kid's a jerk

On the way home from an aiport run today, Andy was entertained by his portable DVD player. And thank the Lord for them, because it's a 2-hour round trip and he'd otherwise chatter the entire way.

About 20 minutes from home the movie ended. Being the driver I wasn't willing to insert another DVD and instead just turned it off. This infuriated my son.

"MOMMY I AM ANGRY AT YOU! I WANT ANOTHER MOVIE!"

(Toddlers are never shy about telling you exactly what they want from you in the most direct way possible.)

In plain English I told him no, and when the whining commenced I turned up the radio and stopped listening to him.

Two minutes later he was still grumbling and I tuned him back in just in time to hear, ".....and I'm going to throw sand in your eyes, Mommy!"

I turned to him at a stoplight and said, "WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME? I hope I did NOT just hear you say you're going to put sand in my eyes because you're angry at me."

He just stared at me and considered his options.

"What did you just say to me, Andy?"

He hesitated and then said, "Um, I said...............'duck', Mommy. I said 'duck'."

That's what I thought he said. What a jerk.

endless blog fodder

As I was sitting on the back porch typing the entry below, Andy came over to me, whining. He sat down next to me and looked up at the sky for a minute. Then he said, "Is there any TV out here, Mommy?"

Great.

UPDATED to add:

After I assured him there was, in fact, no TV out here, he asked for a Capri Sun. I told him they were over in the cooler we used for his birthday party. He went over, lifted up the lid, and dropped it on his toe and said, "Oh dammit."

Y?

This is why boys and girls are different.

Andy was in the guest room talking to his Aunt Tanya, who came for his birthday. I was preparing his toothbrush in the bathroom.

I went to the hall and called, "Andy Roberts, please report to the bathroom for tooth-brushing."

There was no reply, so I went to the guest room. He was sitting there on the guest bed while she packed her suitcase.

"Andy!" I said. "Come on! Time to brush those teeth!"

And here is when a little girl would have calmly slid off the bed, put her feet on the ground, and come into the bathroom.

Andy, however, leaned forward and put his belly on the bed. He hung his head over the edge of the mattress and proceeded to slide, headfirst, off the bed. He did not put his arms out to brace himself; just plummeted down like a top-heavy missile. His head slammed onto the hard floor and his body rapidly followed, like a pile driver. The impact was quite loud and I'd guess he's at least a quarter inch shorter than he was before he dove off the bed.

He then rolled over, hit the dresser, and bawled.

Like I said, a little girl would have just hopped down. The Y-chromosome strikes again.

yes n no

Andy said, "Can I have a Capri Sun, Mommy?"

"No, son. You have water right now." I answered.

He frowned and said, "Don't say no, Mommy. Say yes."

There was silence from me as I tried not to laugh.

Then he said, "Don't say 'no' words. Say 'yes' words."

Apparently, that's his policy.

snapping, here

Andy is pushing every button he possibly can right now. It was like the third birthday arrived and the next day he was evil. Well, more evil than age 2, I mean. He was evil before. He's evil-er now. In fact, he's on the couch right next to me whining his way through the leftovers of his most recent tantrum.

He asked for a Capri Sun and I got him one. Of course I took the damn little straw and punctured both sides of the drink. So I had to regroup and do it again. I gave it to him and he chugged for a while in silence.

Whenever he's done with something, out of habit he hands it to me and expects me to put it away for him on the shelf or the counter or the end table or wherever. But he's 3 now, and I'm sick of it. He has legs and arms and all the appendages that the rest of us possess, if we haven't lost them in some sort of toddler-flogging accident or something, of course.

So I told him to put his own drink on the table. And of course the response was the ever-predictable "No!" Followed by whining..."Mommy, I can't. You put it down."

I'm at the end of my rope today and of late in general. So I said firmly, "Andy, do it yourself. I'm not doing it for you. You can put your own drink down." (And I bit my tongue hard before any obscenities flew out.)

And he came back with, "No Mommy, I'm too sick to put it down. I can't even burp!"

******
Updated to add: Then he said, "I don't say excuse me when I burp. I just burp."

new names

Today Andy announced that his right foot shall henceforth be known as Mr. Foot.

His left shall be known as Sgt. Foot.

That is all.

not-so-happy birthday

Today is Andy's third birthday. I can't believe it. Feels like yesterday. Anyway.

We had great plans for him today: A trip to Caldwell, Ohio, to visit his great-grandparents and witness the annual Fireman's Festival, which he loves. We put off his birthday party until next weekend in order to have this special trip.

Alas, the microscopic world of germs ruined our plans, as Andy developed a fever yesterday. The poor kid is miserable and has had two restless nights. We're keeping him full of Tylenol and Motrin, but he's sick enough that he wasn't even interested in driving up to ColdStone Creamery for his free birthday cone. In addition, the weather is supposed to be violent this evening and Pap is having upcoming heart surgery and doesn't need to be exposed to any illnesses. So, poor Andy is having a miserable birthday.

This morning he was lying pitifully on the couch with big tears rolling down his cheeks as he experienced his first headache (at least, the first one I was able to diagnose as such). I asked him what he needed: Water, food, blanket...all no's.

I hugged him and said, "Andy, I just don't know what I can do to make you feel better."

He looked up at me with his flushed cheeks and said, "Maybe some cake would make me feel better Mommy."

that's what i thought

Andy, whining: How about we watch Dora?

Me, sick of Dora: How about we don't?

Shawn, trying to pacify: How about we watch Looney Toons?

Andy: No! I want to watch Dora!!

Me: How about we watch nothing?

Andy: How about we watch Looney Toons?

close enough

The other day I took Andy to get his hair cut. The barber shop is on the back side of the building where I used to see a chiropractor. Once or twice I didn't have a babysitter and had to take him with me on a visit to have my spine adjusted.

As we drove by searching for a place to park, Andy squealed, "Look Mommy! There's the pirate-quackter!"

obvious or oblivious?

I really shot myself in the foot when I originally dealt with Andy's interruption problem. I explained that if he needed us when we were talking he was to say, "Excuse me, I have something to say."

Well, you can imagine how that unfolded. I'd be talking to Shawn about something and Andy would be hopping up and down saying, "EXCUSE ME I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY EXCUSE ME I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY EXCUSE ME MOMMY I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAAAAAYYYY!" And when I'd stop talking to Shawn and ask him what he needed to say, it was always, "Um......uuuuuummm......I see a bird."

Yeah. It totally backfired.

So the other day in the car he was being so rude that I had to remedy the situation. After 5 minutes of trying to carry on a conversation with my husband I gave up and turned to Andy in his car seat.

"Andy", I said. "You don't seem to understand about this interrupting thing. It's not okay to interrupt grown-ups to say any old thing. You need to respect us when we're talking and wait until we're finished."

Then, for some reason, I added, "The only time it's okay to interrupt is if you get hurt. Then you can say, 'Mommy, excuse me, I'm hu--'"

And then he interrupted me, saying (you guessed it),"Mommy! Excuuuuse me! Mommy I'm HURT!"

Shawn laughed his ass off and asked me why I hadn't seen that coming.

okay, maybe i don't

After my chiropractic appointment today, I was driving home with Andy, who wanted to chatterbox incessantly. I wasn't saying much because I'd had quite a workout in physical therapy and my head was pounding like a sledgehammer.

"Mommy, I want you to talk to me!" he whined.

I said, "Andy, I'm sorry but I have a bad headache."

"No you don't Mommy. You're fine."

what the....?

Today I picked Andy up from school, and, since it's Monday, I took him up to Tumblin' Tots (a local kiddie play place) so he could bounce around while I had my chiropractor appointment a few doors down. We were talking about Andy's day when there was a silence and then suddenly an ear-piercing shriek.

"Andy!" I yelled. "What's the matter?"

I turned around, and he was in his car seat with his hand on his forehead, pinching himself.

"This hand is pinching me, Mommy!"

That is so weird. Isn't it?

sensitive soul

I don't know if I've mentioned it on the blog before, but Andy is perhaps the most sensitive child that has ever lived. He cries at the drop of a hat. He gets angry if he's corrected. He sticks out his bottom lip in the saddest pouty face if he's even gently admonished. It's actually a real problem because his hurt feelings get in the way of the message we're trying to deliver.

Last evening Shawn and I went fishing on the river; Andy spent the evening with my parents. They had to go to Lowe's after dinner to look at some rugs and they took Andy along. He adores Lowe's because he gets to climb on every tractor in the store and ride in the race car cart.

But his sensitivity came with him, as it always does. Apparently he was goofing around in the cart, and bent down and began to chew on the handle, where dozens of human hands rest every day. I'm not a germaphobe by any means, but even I agree this isn't the best place for a human mouth to be.

My mom must agree because she gently said, "Oh babe-o, icky. Let's not put our mouth there. It's gross and germy and you don't want to get sick."

His face clouded and the bottom lip immediately protruded.

Mom said, "Andy, honey, I'm not yelling at you and I'm not angry with you. You're not in trouble. I just don't want you to get sick."

The bottom lip protruded further.

She said, "Andy I love you. I'm not mad. I love you so much babe-o."

Andy looked down and, under his breath, said, "I don't love you....."

for parents only

Disclaimer: This blog post is not for the faint of heart and is intended for and will only be appreciated by parents.

Andy is in the process of potty training. But with boys, I suppose, it’s not an overnight transition. (If only it were. I’m so sick of wiping that little hind end.) Part of the experience is his self-awareness. Meaning, "Oh, I have poop in my pants. I stink and I’d better go harass Mommy so she’ll change me." Another part of the experience is the recognition that what goes in, must come out. I guess I’ve grumbled enough times about a post-blueberry poop that he’s starting to realize that what he ate at his last meal will show up shortly before the next one.

So of course the other day he refused to poop on the potty. Fine. I can accept it. He’s not quite ready; it’ll happen when it happens. I laid him on the floor and stripped him down. As I took off the diaper I must have made a face, because he said, "Is it a blueberry poop, Mommy?"

"No, son."

"Is it a strawberry poop, Mommy?"

"No, son."

"Is it a taco poop, Mommy?"

"No, son."

Silence.

Then, "Well, what kind of poop is it, Mommy?!?"

gratitude

Today Andy and I were home from work and school. I felt guilty because I've started working three days a week and sometimes when we come home he wants to bounce around and I'm too tired. So I decided to take him to the park. First we went to several stores for decorations for Andy's float in our little neighborhood 4th of July parade. (Which usually consists of him sitting in a wagon and me pulling it.) I bought him flags and balloons and snacks and other fun stuff. I even found a kite on sale so I bought that, thinking we could go to the top of the hill and fly it after the park.

We went to the playground and played and played. He ran himself and me ragged. We swang and played in the sand and threw rocks and looked at ducks. Then, despite major exhaustion, I packed him into the car and we drove to the top of the hill where I was hoping there would be wind for some kite-flying.

Of course, there was no wind. But that didn't matter to Andy. He was endlessly amused by my running around holding the kite. I could only make it fly under my own power. When he eventually stepped on it and shredded it, I tossed it in the trash and changed the agenda to distract him from the loss. We ran and ran and ran, and he laughed and laughed and laughed. I spun him around in circles until I wanted to puke. Then, to coax him back to the car, we had nauseating races, gradually working our way to the parking lot.

When we got to the car he was very thirsty and demanding a drink. It was then that I realized that my car keys had fallen out of my pocket, somewhere in the expanse of three soccer fields. Not good. We re-traced our steps, back and back, circle after circle. I pawed through the trash. (Gross, by the way.)

After 20 minutes of searching, just as I was pulling out my phone to call for help, we spied them. Then we traipsed back to the car as slowly as his little legs could possibly carry him. I put him in his seat, got him food and drink and drove him home.

As soon as he realized we were again driving past the park but this time not stopping, he got angry. After all of my efforts, time, energy and money, he thanked me for this time together by screaming,

"Mommy I'm going to belch in your face if you don't stop at the park!!!!"

ruder by the day

Andy is driving me absolutely nuts. He's interrupting our conversations because he can't stand to be out of the spotlight. He keeps asking me, "Mommy are you mad at me?" And what can I say to that? It's so sweet.

But he's not really that sweet....because after Andy interrupted for the 15th time, Shawn said, "Andy, go play with your trains."

Swift as thought, Andy replied, "Daddy, you go play with my trains, you old man."

What a jerk.

grandparental report

This story comes from my parents, who take Andy every Tuesday so Shawn and I can have a date.

Tonight they took him to Uncle Pete's, a riverfront restaurant with a close view of the bridges and the barges that go by. Andy loves these things, and perhaps his favorite thing is the tunnel. But of course, he couldn't see the tunnel from his seat on the deck because there were buildings in the way. His grandparents tried to explain to him that the tunnel was behind those buildings.

So he turned to the waitress and yelled across the restaurant.

"Hey lady! Can you move those buildings so I can see the tunnel?"

this is why

This is why we're bad parents:

Andy was on his swing and wanted his father's attention. We were talking and ignoring him because he's got a real problem with butting into our conversations of late. We continued to ignore him.

So he yelled to his father, "I'm talking to you, schmuck!!!"

We had a little talk after that.

(Of course, from whom do you think he learned that word to begin with?)

he's joking, right?

Andy was in his swing yesterday and he was, as usual, griping about something. Something about Nugget.

I asked, "Andy, do you want to get out of the swing and play with Nugget?"

"Nooooo!"

"Why not?"

"Because she's always biting my nipples!"

If this is true, then we either have a major problem or a potential money-maker on our hands.

little sneak

Andy: Mommy, can you carry me down the stairs?

Me: No, Andy.

Andy: Mommy, can you hug me down the stairs?

pee-yew

It's a hot and muggy day. Something around the general vicinity of Andy's big sandbox doesn't smell very good. In fact, it smells very bad.

Now with a 6 foot by 6 foot sandbox, you've got some serious acreage for local kitties to utilize for their toilet. So naturally I went out and bought a sandbox cover that fits beautifully and keeps the sand nice and clean. But...I will be the first to admit that I do, on occasion, forget to go out in the dark or the rain and take 5 minutes to fasten all the snaps. Especially in June thunderstorms. So what I'm smelling is, in all likelihood, exactly what I think I'm smelling.

I say, "Is there cat poop in the sandbox?"

Andy replies, "Nooooooooo", as he continues to dig around in God-knows-what.

"Then why does it stink so bad?"

"It stinks great!"

after the zoo

In the car:

Me: Did you have a good time Andy?

Him: No. I didn't have a good time.

Me: You didn't?

Him: NO MOMMY! If you don't stop talking you're going to have to stand in the corner.

Me: Andy! Stop mouthing off! I am sick of your smart mouth.

Him: I am sick of your smart mouth.

Me: Yes.

Him: Yes.

Me: Andy...are you repeating what I'm saying?

Him: Mommy, are you repeating what I'm saying?

Me: Andy, are you being a copy cat?

Him: Mommy, are you being a coffee cat?

no kidding

This morning Andy and I had a bickering session about something. I don't even remember what the subject was.

Exasperated, I finally sighed and said, "Andy, you are very frustrating. Do you know that?"

To my utter shock, he replied, "Yeah, I've heard that before."

As I live and breathe, he said that to me.

every single day

Me: Andy, it's about time for a nap.
Him: NOOOO!
Me: Come on, honey. Nap time.
Him: NOOOOOOOOO!

He tries to run away. I grab the back of his shirt. He screams. SCREAMS and squirms away. He climbs onto the couch. I reach for him. He climbs onto the end table next to my favorite lamp and says,

"If you don't stop chasing me I'm going to hide!"

I reach down and pick him up. He screams, thrashes and yells. I tuck him under my arm like a duffel bag, kicking and shrieking. I carry him up the stairs, kicking and shrieking. I toss (literally) him over the rail of his crib and he lands on his mattress, kicking and shrieking. I close the blinds and turn on the ocean-sounds machine.

Me: Andy, would you like me to tuck you in?

Pouting in the corner: No! I'm mad at you Mommy. I don't like you.
Me: Okay, Andy. Good night.

Him: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaait! Mommy you forgot to tuck me in! Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I turn around, come back into the room and approach the crib. He holds out his arms and says, "Mommy, I need a hug and a kiss." I hug him, kiss his teary face and he drops to the mattress. Finally.

I'm serious when I say that this happens every single day lately.

more ouch

When he woke up from a late nap, he was seriously grumpy.

Andy: Daddy I don't like you.

Shawn: Why not Andy?

Andy: Daddy stop talking. There's no talking in the house.

Shawn: What?

Andy: You're going to have to go to the garbage, Daddy, because I said no talking.

ouch

After a day at work, I picked Andy up from school at 3 today. I was excited to see him because I'd missed the little buggar and had been looking at his photo.

Me: Hi Andy!

Andy: I didn't have a good day, Mommy.

Me: Andy, why not?

Andy: Can you not talk to me Mommy? I don't want you to talk to me. There's no talking in the car.

Me: What's wrong buddy?

Andy: I don't like you Mommy. Stop talking to me.

a bad shirt

Andy is, of late, what I would generally call a "hot mess". He's uber-sensitive about everything. He cries at the drop of a hat. He pouts. He whines. If he points out a truck and it's actually a steam roller, he sticks out his bottom lip, cries and tells you to go away and that he doesn't like you any more. It's awful. I think my recent decision to work 3 days a week is behind it, because now he attends 3 full days of preschool, and refuses to take a nap with the other children. Consequently, his circadian rhythms are totally off, and he's upset at the newest change in his school schedule too.

Anyway, one of his newest annoying things is a serious pickiness about his clothing. He hates 90% of what he wears and thus he wears the same few outfits over and over and over until they're disgusting and stainy.

So today I offered him a choice of two shirts. Both of which he hated. I told him he had to chose one of them so he chose the red train shirt. But in order to get him to actually wear it I had to promise that we'd put a coat over the shirt so nobody would see it. He wore the coat in 77-degree weather with 75% humidity for 4 hours. I had to wrestle him out of it after lunch for a nap.

When I got the coat off I hoped he'd forget about his despised train shirt. But he didn't.

Andy: Mommy can you take my train shirt off?

Me: Why, doodlebug?

Andy: Because I don't like it and I don't want to wear it.

Me: Why don't you like your nice train shirt, Andy?

Andy: Because it's too RED!

the cruelest baby

Andy peed on the potty this morning. He always gets a potty treat when he does: a few M&Ms. Today though, he wanted a lollipop, which we reserve for a successful #2 on the potty. He kept saying, "I want a lollipop!"

Finally Shawn said, "Andy, no. You had M&Ms already."

In his characteristic pouty way, Andy said, "Daddy doesn't love me anymore."

Poor Shawn just about cried. It was a mean, mean toddler trick. He's no dummy. He hits you where it hurts.

not the face!

This isn't a funny blog, for once, but it's an Andy story that I'm sure I'll never forget.

Last night was Andy's first (real) trip to the ER. We'd hosted a dinner party and as I was helping our company down the ridiculously long sidewalk to their car, this was unfolding: Andy was charged up by the presence of his father and his puppy who were wrestling together. He started doing a classic Andy move - the spin. He spins around in circles until he crashes into something.

Well, he did crash into something. With his face.

He landed, face-first, on the raised wooden rim of his train table, and when Shawn heard the thwack he knew it was bad. Andy stood up clutching his nose and when Shawn pulled his hands away he saw a 1-inch gash right under Andy's nostrils. It bled and bled and when I walked back into my kitchen thinking about the successful dinner party we'd had with Molly and Thomas and the children, I was confronted with my bloody little boy in hysterics. We checked him out for a few minutes and it became rapidly clear that he needed stitches, so off to the ER we went.

I was amazed at how placid everybody at the ER is when a child is bleeding. It obviously wasn't life-or-death, so we had to 'check in', sit in the waiting room, register (ocean view or poolside?) and then wait a while in the back area. (A little girl with obvious pinkeye was right behind us so that added a nice element of 'ick' to the whole scene.)

Anyway, to make a long story short, they were kind enough to use a numbing substance on Andy's laceration before they used the lidocaine. They said it would decrease the pain of the shot by about 50% but that it would still hurt him. He had to sit with this substance on his nose for about 15 minutes and while he did he calmed down. We sang some songs and laughed a little bit. But it was terrible for me because I knew when those 15 minutes were up that I was going to have to hold down my little boy as they put a needle in his open laceration. I thought I was going to puke, seriously.

When the time finally did come, they practically had to wrench him from my grip. To make matters worse, they laid him down on a sheet and then wrapped his arms to his sides so he couldn't squirm. Which was good, but was awful at the same time. They tied down my baby boy! A nurse held his head and Shawn and I held his feet, which was terrible. When they gave him the shot they said he'd really cry. But to their utter amazement, he only whimpered. It clearly hurt and he squeezed out some tears, but the doctor and nurses said that most children screamed and thrashed during this part.

I, meanwhile, turned my head, put it on Shawn's shoulder, and bawled like a little weiner. I didn't let Andy see me, of course, but it was just about the worst thing ever. Once he was numb he didn't cry much. He did a little more whimpering as they stitched him, and I watched to keep eye contact with him but hated watching them put a needle through my little boy's face. They had to put in six stitches. Quite a lot. It took forever, it seemed. During the sewing, he told them about the diggers he'd seen during the day, and about the baby groundhogs we have in our yard. The nurses said what a brave boy he was and complemented us several times on what a beautiful face he has.

Well, duh.

Of course, now that beautiful, perfect face will have a big scar under the beautiful, perfect nose. The stitches make him look a little like Hitler. When they sat him up he was well past any tears and I promptly dug out a candy bar from my purse and he gobbled it, numb lip and all. Had my mother been there she would have probably met him in the parking lot with a pony.

Being a boy, I know this is likely the first of many ER trips. I tell you though, that was awful for a mom to endure. But when we got home, the first thing he did was go right back to his train table, the source of the injury, and he had to be dragged away from his beloved trains for bed at 10:30pm.

Boys.

wee techie

On the way home from Grandma's house tonight we talked with Andy. We reminisced about his earlier days when he first learned to give commands. His tendency was to hold out his cup and say, "Take it!" Or to reach for a toy and say, "Grab it!" Or to ask for a Popsicle saying, "Have it!"

So we merrily rambled off a list of Andy's favorites:

"Take it...Hold it...Grab it...Snatch it...Yank it...Have it...Eat it...Pick it...Kick it..." And laughed ourselves silly.

Suddenly Andy chimed in with, "Google it!"

I don't remember him ever saying that one.

my poor plant

I sat on my patio and watched Andy molesting my new jade plant. He broke off one of the leaves and was playing with it.

I said, "Andy, did you break off a piece of my jade plant?"

"No."

"Then who did?"

"A monster."

nudie

On Friday morning Andy slept until 10am. This hasn't happened in over a year. I tend to enjoy it and get excited and wonder how long he'll actually sleep. Then later I totally regret it because it interferes with his nap. Such was the case on this day.

Shawn was home recovering from his meniscus removal, so I took Andy upstairs and put him in bed at nap time, around 2 or maybe a little thereafter. It was hot so I let him lay down in just his diaper. I came back to the couch and for the next hour we listened to Andy trilling (rolling his tongue) and chatterboxing in his bed. On and on it went. We waited for his energy to expire.

Suddenly at 3pm he started crying. This sometimes happens right before he goes to sleep on these kinds of days. We let him whine and whimper for about 15 minutes and he didn't calm down. Finally I decided to go up and see what the problem was.

When I opened the bedroom door, there was Andy standing up in his crib, completely naked. His diaper was on the other side of the room lying on the floor.

I asked him what had happened to his diaper.

"It came off all by itself, Mommy."

"Oh really? Did the diaper also fly across the room all by itself and land in the corner?"

Tearfully: "Yeah."

I put a new diaper on him and within 5 minutes he was dead asleep.

falsely accused

Andy was watching "Dora" this morning when the program cut away to a black screen for this week's test of the Emergency Broadcast System.

He took one look at the screen and at the top of his lungs, screamed, "WHY DID YOU TURN OFF DORA MOMMY?"

just now

"What the hell, Mommy? What the hell?"

Followed by:

"Where the hell are my trains?"

gross

Grandma Diane came down for dinner tonight. She stayed a while, and when it was time to go, she helped Andy clean up the basement. Shawn and I helped too. We had our backs turned for a while.

When we turned around Diane was gingerly chewing something orange in her mouth. She said, "Andy and I are having some snacks."

Her grandson had reached into a tub of "Pupcorn" and was sharing a doggy treat with his unsuspecting grandmother. They both had orange teeth and bacon breath.

appreciation

I did a good thing, today. I took my beloved child out of his bed this morning, packed supplies to last two weeks into the car, including GPS, DVD player, food for 12, change of clothing, and an array of toddler survival items. I loaded him up in the pouring rain and drove him miles and miles through Pittsburgh traffic to reach our destination: the Pittsburgh Zoo. We had a really good time. I showed my son everything. I showed him endangered snow leopards and baby African elephants. I talked to him about fish and the aquatic life cycle. We watched the severely-threatened polar bear playing in his new PPG Aquarium habitat. He crawled through a stingray tunnel and watched a scuba diver in the tank containing huge Amazonian rainforest fish. He touched fingers with a Mountain Gorilla through the glass.

When the day ended I fought my way back through 4pm Pittsburgh traffic, risking life and limb to get my progeny safely home to West Virginia. I even stopped and bought him a caramel sundae at Sarris candy factory.

As we were leaving the zoo, tired, happy and environmentally educated, I asked said, "Andyboy, we saw a lot of really neat animals today. We saw baby elephants and penguins and lions and sharks....what was your favorite thing we saw?"

He said, "The train!"

I show him the rare and beautiful world of nature and his favorite part is the broken down diesel parked along the Allegheny River.

extras

For my 30th birthday my aunt and uncle got me an awesome garden cart for all of my big backyard needs.

The best part about getting a present like that is that it comes with a gift of its own: the privilege of dragging Andy Roberts around in circles over uneven ground at a high rate of speed. So far the garden cart has been the gift that keeps on giving.

i wish

Meme: Andy, who's birthday is it today?

Andy: It's Mommy's birthday!

Meme: And how old is Mommy?

Andy: She's two and a half!

he still demands it

This evening I made a serious effort to get Andy to eat dinner. I have no idea why he wasn't hungry but you can't force a toddler, as I already well know.

I gave him a variety of options and finally just said, exasperated, "Andy! What do you want for dinner?!?"

He shouted, "Respect!"

(I said, "Andy, you can't eat respect." He said, "Okay, I want respect in my sippy cup!")

gag me with a trout

This morning Andy got up and I got him ready for school. We're still having potty trouble most of the time. It's not that Andy can't go on the potty. He has proven many times that he has full control of the required muscles and knows exactly what to do and when to do it. He just plain doesn't want to, and I think it's because I do want him to. One little way he can have control over me.

It sucks.

One of my little potty trick tools is Potty Trout. Potty Trout is a 12-inch stuffed rainbow trout that Uncle Davey brought back for Andy from some gift shop in the west. When Andy was actually having genuine difficulty on the potty (as opposed to the current power struggle) I'd go fetch the fish and call him 'Potty Trout'. Andy would hold Potty Trout and talk to Potty Trout while he sat on the potty and tried to make progress. And often Potty Trout's presence helped a lot. So Potty Trout started spending an inordinate amount of time in the loo.

This morning Potty Trout made an appearance at the breakfast table before school. Andy brought him downstairs and set him on the table while he ate. I'm no dummy; I know what germs are probably lurking on a stuffed animal that regularly gets taken into the bathroom and tossed on the floor beside a peeing toddler. But it's a kitchen table and I have Clorox wipes. No need to completely freak out. If Potty Trout is Andy's buddy, more power to him.

I poured myself some coffee, set it on the table and went downstairs to let Nugget out of her box and out to pee. When I came back up, half of my coffee was gone and it was splattered all over the table. I asked Andy what had happened and he just held up Potty Trout, who's head was now a warm shade of mocha and he smelled like Amaretto.

I said, "Andy, did you dip Potty Trout into my coffee cup while I was downstairs?"

He said, "Yes."

He dipped his toilet fish into my coffee.

in the car

It was pouring and I had all of my focus on the road. I wasn't saying much and Andy was mildly offended in the backseat.

"Mommy, can you relax and I'll sing a song?"

Then he started humming the ABC's.

hoarf

Andy, sitting on my mother's lap while she reads him a book: hack, cough

Meme: Andy are you okay?

Andy: Yeah. I'm just barfing up a hairball.

nooo!

I'm having a terrible problem with my back of late. Just awful pain. And while our mattress wasn't the culprit, it certainly wasn't helping the problem much. I used to wake up pain-free and then as the day progressed fall into agony. But lately our pillow top mattress (which cost considerable monies) has begun to compress under the weight of our bodies until it was punctuated by two Grand Canyon-sized pits in which we lay all night. And naturally I started waking up in pain, which caused me to lose the two good morning hours I used to have pain-free.

Where is this going? Well, Shawn and I felt the problem (aka the mattress pit) was getting so deep that we went out and bought a $2200 Tempurpedic mattress. (Yikes!) It's a lower-end model and it still cost us that much. We're reassured by the 20-year warranty and the 30-day trial period after which we may return it for a refund if it doesn't float our boat.

So at 8am this morning the truck pulled up with our expensive new purchase. Andy was super excited, bouncing on the old one for a last few minutes before they took it away. (I explained to him that the new mattress wasn't bouncy at all, and he was disappointed to learn I was exactly right.) I stripped the old bed, all the way down to the waterproof mattress cover we bought when we realized our doberman had a leaking problem when she'd fall into a deep sleep.

When the men had set up the box springs and the new mattress and had me sign the forms, they left. I spoke briefly to the manager at the store to confirm that my new purchase had arrived safely and was properly assembled. As I spoke to him I reached for the waterproof mattress pad. I wanted to get it quickly on the bed before any paws or chocolate milk got on it, potentially voiding my warranty.

It was too late. As I hung up the phone, Andy pointed to my new, $2200 bed and said, "Mommy, I put a booger on the new bed!"

If I have to return it I can only hope they don't notice the green slug trail on the lower right corner where my son wiped his nose five minutes after it arrived. At least it was on Shawn's side.

bad things

Me: Andy, what did you do in school today?

Andy: I hit McKenna.

Me: You did!?!?

Andy: Then I pushed her down. She cried and cried.


Swell.

in the car

Andy: Mommy, can you sing the doggy song again?

Me: Andy, I just sang it 7 times. I'm tired of singing the doggy song.

Andy: Please sing the doggy song Mommy?

Me: Andy, why don't you sing the doggy song?

Andy: I can't sing it Mommy.

Me: Why not Andy?

Andy: Because there's a tongue in my mouth.

quandary

Andy is enjoying his new pool, but the catch is that he only wants to enjoy it in the buff. So, since it's been so warm, I don't have a problem with stripping him down naked for a swim on the weekends.

But yesterday was Monday. My parents' contractors were back at the house, working on the new kitchen. The mailman was afoot. The lawn guys were doing their thing. Andy didn't so much care but I thought for decency's sake I'd put his bathing suit on. It's so cute...it's blue and red plaid with a crab on one leg.

He stepped into the pool, squatted down, then jumped up and came running over to me, visibly upset. He started whining and crying and I asked him what was wrong.

"I can't swim in my pool, Mommy."

"Why not Andy? What's wrong?"

"I can't sit down in my pool."

"Why not?"

"My bathing suit will get all wet!"

I've created a naked monster.

whale pool

We've just had a heat wave in April and it's been wonderful. Andy has enjoyed it immensely. It was so hot that we decided to go out and get a new swimming pool. Andy's Meme, my mom, wanted to buy him a new pool as a gift so she gave me $20 to go to the dollar store and get a new pool. We were going to Walmart anyway and I decided to just get his pool there. Surely Walmart had twenty dollar pools, I thought.

And they do have twenty-dollar pools. But Dummy Me made the mistake of taking Andy to that particular aisle with me rather than letting him go with Daddy to the grocery aisles. Just as I was pulling the $20 pool off the shelves, his little eyes spied the slighty-more-than-twenty-dollar pools. More specifically, he spied a pool that had a sliding board in the shape of a whale.

"Mommy! Look at that pool! Look at that whale pool! I want that whale pool! That's my whale pool! I want to swim in my whale pool!"

The damn whale pool was NOT twenty dollars...

lousy mom

Time: 8am, Sunday morning.

Mommy, can I have some candy?
No, son. No candy for breakfast.
Mommy, can you reach my Easter basket?
No, Andy. No candy.

30 seconds elapse.

Mommy, can you reach my Easter basket?
[I say nothing.]
Mommy, I want my Easter basket!
No, Andy! No candy in the early morning when you haven't even touched those nice fresh grapes I washed for you.

Mommy.......I want M&Ms! [he climbs up my body in an attempt to reach his Easter basket on the shelf above me]

No! Do you want some pancakes?
I don't want any pancakes! I want my Easter candy can I please have it Mommy?
No, son. Can I make you some breakfast? Pancakes? Eggs? Toast?
Mommy can you reach my Easter basket?
No, son. I can't. I'm sorry.
Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.......
Fine! Here's your damn candy! Eat it! I don't care. Eat it. Eat chocolate for breakfast.

I hand him his Easter basket and go upstairs to take a Mucinex and pour myself a second cup of coffee. Then I return to the couch, feeling sick as a dog and incredibly stuffy.

Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee......can I have some pancakes?

No son. Eat your candy.

dome piece

We spent this evening at Andy's grandma's house. There was a lot of drama and there was a collective argument out on the lawn between some of the female residents of the apartment complex over some stray cats. (It's a long story.) I wasn't a fan of Andy being out there amidst the yelling and cursing but I couldn't seem to coax him into the house either. (Plus, I have to be honest, I was really enjoying the fireworks.) Andy got really energized by the fever pitch of the argument and began running around in circles. He was wearing his new Crocs, which take a little getting used to. He managed to trip and fall and whack his forehead. After a moment of tears, he got up and kept on a-runnin'.

During one pass, Grandma Diane's neighbor Eric stopped to talk to Andy. (Andy and Eric are buddies and they like to blow bubbles out on the porch together.) Eric asked Andy, "What's your name buddy?"

Andy looked at Eric and said, "My name is Andy and I bumped my dome!"

he gave you a what?

Yesterday we were watching a home video of this past Christmas. On the tv we were talking about our ride on the Polar Express.

Sitting on the couch, Andy turned to me and said, "We rode the Polar Express! Santa gave me a bell..............and a taco!"

sad? not so much.

Today I sat Andy down and told him that our beloved dobie, Suey, died.

Andy: I want to go see Suey.

Me: Andy, Suey died and went to Heaven.

Andy: Okay. I want to go to my friend Colby's house.

no kidding

Halfway through a massive tantrum: "It's not happy time Mommy!"

Well, duh.

little bit of mommy

Last night Andy was being too rough with his daddy, slapping Shawn's face and poking him in the eye.

I said sharply, "Andy! Don't hit Daddy!"

He immediately stood up, enraged, turned to me and screamed, "MOMMY DON'T YELL AT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And then he stormed off.

i can't believe this happened

Andy's already got a big fat black eye. It looks really bad. I'll preface the following with that bit of info.

Shawn came home after work, had a scotch on the rocks (a Jackson tradition) and I asked him to change Andy's diaper. Andy of course refused and planted his feet, so Shawn pulled him fairly gently by the arms towards the house, with Andy hollering in protest. Then, out of the blue, Suey came running by with a giant stick in her mouth and knocked Andy to the ground. He fell and cried.

The next thing we knew, Andy was holding his arm to his side and crying. He refused to move his arm and when we tried to move it he'd cry harder. We took him in and waited for the pain to subside. It didn't.

Okay, I thought. Off to the ER we go. He cried as we got him in his car seat and he cried harder when we went over the bumps in the road. We rushed him into the ER with panic on our faces. He still cried.

I said to the triage nurse, "I think my son has a broken arm."

Pause to tell you what state my son is in. His eye is horribly bruised. He's been at the park where he was throwing sand in his hair and at the other children. He was punished, so we left, and in the process he threw himself down in the mud and cried. He's got a ring of black Oreo crumbs on his mouth.

So he's got filthy clothing, sand in his hair, crud on his mouth and a large black eye. He's wailing loudly that "Daddy pulled my arm! Daddy squeezed my arm!" And Shawn is standing beside me with a terrified look on his face and scotch on his breath. This doesn't look good from any angle. Clearly we are negligent parents.

We checked in while he cried. The nurse gave me a hospital bracelet for Andy and told us to wait for a minute in the waiting room.

As we sat down, Andy stopped crying, started waving his 'broken' arm and announced loudly, "My boo boo feels all better now!"

And he hopped down and jumped around with glee.

And thus, we left. Thankful, but mildly embarrassed.

what did i say?

We were watching children's programming. During a commercial break they had a little quiz where they showed part of an animal's body and the children are supposed to guess what the animal is. They showed a closeup of a black spot on a red body.

I said, "What is it, Andy?"

He said nothing, so I said, "It's a ladybug!"

He said grouchily, "It's not a lady bug! Stop talking to me Mommy!"

after tonight's dinner...

....he said, "Mommy, you're a good cooker man!"

no. no it isn't.

We went to the gym the other day. When we pulled up in the parking lot Andy looked around and said, "Hey! This isn't the beach!"

direct and to the point

Andy and I were playing in his bedroom. He often likes to empty his hamper of dirty clothing and climb in for a game of Where's Andy. He jumps down and hides and then loudly announces, "I'm hiding!" And of course I wonder aloud where he is and he pops up into sight quite proud of himself.

Except on the 7th cycle of the Where's Andy game he never popped up. So I said over and over, "Gee, where's my Andy? I wonder where he is."

And he said, from the depths of his hamper, "Mommy, can you stop talking?"

shawn's favorite word resurfaces

Andy: Mommy, last night I had a dream about deers.

Me: You had a dream about deer?

Andy: Yeah. They were in my bed. They were watching me.

Me: What did you say to them?

Andy: I said, "Get out of my bed you old schmuck deers."

confused, i think

This morning we're sitting on the couch watching cartoons. I am not really paying much attention to the television, but I do hear the current show come to a close.

Andy says: I want to watch more pee and poo Mommy!

Huh? You want to watch what, Andy?

He points to the to the television, where I see "The Adventures of Tigger and Pooh" credits rolling.

Ooooooh. I should have known. At least he's thinking in potty terms. That's progress!

don't argue with me

When I got Andy out of his crib this morning he was crying.

Andy: I'm very upset.

Me: Why are you upset, Andy?

Andy: Because I had a dream about hammers.

Me: What did you dream about hammers honey?

Andy: The hammers were sharp.

Me: But honey, hammers aren't really sharp.

Andy, furious: They are!!

grab the bucket

We're sitting here on the couch playing with Andy. He just said to Shawn, "Daddy I have to barf."

I have heard this song and dance before and so I told him to go fetch his bucket. (I had it here in this room from the other day when I thought he was seriously ill.) He did, and dragged it back to the couch and crawled up next to Shawn.

He sat down with the bucket and put his face down in it, burped a few times, made an echoey noise, and then put it on his head.

a fitting end

FYI: This is the third post today. That's never good.

After we came home and put Andy's coat in the washing machine (see "scarred for life..."), it was time for Andy's afternoon nap. He hadn't been changed in hours and I was absolutely thrilled to see that the diaper was still dry. He was in his room playing with his Cars cars and I called him in to sit on his potty before his snooze. He brought the main character, Lightning McQueen, in with him.

Andy's doing amazingly well with his potty progress, and he was successful this time too. His favorite part of using the potty is of course flushing. So he jumped off the potty and immediately bent over, bare-assed, to watch the toilet paper swirl around and go down. Unfortunately those little fingers didn't hold onto Lightning McQueen as tightly as they should have, and though I didn't see what happened I heard an unmistakable plunk! as the toy hit the maelstrom in the bowl. I quickly dropped the diaper I was trying to put on that bare bum and peered over the rim. But it was too late. There was nothing in the bowl at all.

Andy had a frozen moment and then shouted, "I dropped Lightning McQueen! I dropped him in the potty!"

I had no idea what to do. Being an adult, I usually only flush things that are flushable. So I had no idea what was going to happen. I mostly expected the water to swirl and disappear and then when the bowl settled the car would pop out. Surely it wouldn't fit through the trap.

Alas, McQueen never reemerged. I told Andy as gently as I could that Lightning McQueen was gone. When he heard this, Andy let out the most sorrowful noise I've ever heard him make. It was heartbreaking. It was a squeal of utter, agonizing pain.

I carried him into his room and we rocked in his chair for a while and Andy sobbed on my chest. Every 30 seconds he looked up at me with his tear-stained face and asked if Lightning McQueen was coming back, and every time I told him that the car was gone. And then he made the wounded-animal squeal again and sobbed some more.

I finally told him I'd call the plumber and see what they could do. In truth, I don't give two hoots about Lightning McQueen - he's easily replacable - but I give a serious hoot about my plumbing system. We once spent $300 to have the toilet removed and the pipes searched because there was a clog. Turned out to be a paper clip. So if a paper clip cost $300, I shudder to think what a toy car would cost me.

So anyway, I put Andy down for his nap and told him the plumber was coming. And then on the baby monitor I could hear him bawling and telling himself, "Mommy is going to call the plumber. Lightning McQueen is gone. I flushed him down the potty!" It was so pitiful.

To wrap up the story, the plumber came within a few hours and Andy immediately told him all about McQueen's ride on the porcelain bus. He snaked the trap in the toilet and found that McQueen was not stuck in there. So, the odds are that he's well on his way to the sewage treatment plant. Andy was so interested in the pipe snake that the misery ceased. The plumber and I laughed heartily about Lightning McQueen sleeping with the fishes, and I told Andy we'd go get another one.

So I suppose that the moral of the story is: don't let your toddler hold a toy while they use the potty. Also, this entry may not seem so funny to me in a week when I get the plumber's invoice...

lunch with andy, today

Lunch with Andy (in its real-time, jumbled fashion):

Arrive in the kitchen. Try to put the dog out to pee but can't because Andy is standing in the doorway looking at squirrels. I try to move him and he stubbornly plants his feet because he knows I want him to move. I pick him up, putting considerable strain on my back, and put him aside. The dog goes out and she steps on my feet on the way. Andy runs off. I ask him to sit in his chair. He ignores me. I ask again. He ignores me. I order him. He ignores me. I physically pick him up and put him in his chair. I push in the chair and pinch his fingers. He bawls.

What do you want for lunch Andy?
A hard boiled egg Mommy.

I get out an egg, peel it, slice it and put it on his plate. Then I make myself some egg salad. I turn around and he's feeding his hard boiled egg to Suey.

Stop feeding the dog Andy!
I'm not feeding the dog, Mommy!
Eat your egg, please.
I don't want my egg!
Why not Andy?
I don't like it Mommy. I don't want my egg.

I sit down and pick up my sandwich. Before I can take a bite:
Mommy I want apple cider.
I get him some apple cider. I sit down and take two bites of my sandwich.
Mommy can I have some of your sandwich?

I give him a few bites.

Mommy can I have some water?
Andy I just gave you a glass of apple cider. Drink that.
I don't want to drink that cider Mommy.

He drops his napkin.

Oh no Mommy! I just dropped my napkin! I just dropped my napkin! (tears)
Here Andy, here is another napkin.
I don't want that napkin! I want my napkin! It's on the floor.
I get up and pick up his damn napkin.
Andy what else do you want to eat? You haven't touched your boiled egg.
I don't like my egg Mommy.
I know, son. What else do you want to eat for lunch?
Um.....um....I want pancakes!
How many pancakes do you want?
I want seven Mommy!
How about three pancakes Andy? I don't think you'll eat them all.
Mommy can I have some water?
Andy let Mommy heat up your pancakes first.
Mommy can I have some water?
Just a minute Andy.
Mommy Suey's barking. Suey's a bad dog. Suey's an idiot.
Andy please don't call Suey an idiot. That's not very nice.
That's not very nice.
No, it's not, so please be nice to her.
You're a nice girl Suey.

I put his pancakes in front of them.
Mommy can you tear them in half?
They're hotter than hell but I tear them in half and blow on each one until I'm dizzy.
Here you go Andy.
They're too hot Mommy! (tears)
No, Andy. I blew on them. They're cooled off now.
No Mommy they're too hot!
Well Andy you're going to have to either blow on them or wait a few minutes. Are you going to eat the pancakes you asked for?
Yes Mommy.

I take another bite of my sandwich.
Mommy can I have a bite of your sandwich?
I give him a bite.
Andy will you have some of your pancakes?
He takes two bites of pancake. He leaves the other two cakes on the plate, untouched.
Is that all you're going to eat Andy?
I don't like the pancakes Mommy.
But you said you wanted pancakes!
I don't like the pancakes Mommy! (getting upset)
Can I eat my sandwich please Andy?
No Mommy you can't eat your sandwich can I have some Goldfish?
Do you want a banana?
No Mommy I don't want a banana.
Do you want a fruit cup?
No Mommy I don't want a fruit cup I want some Goldfish.
Can I please put the dishes in the dishwasher first?
Yes Mommy. Can I have some Goldfish now?
Just a minute Andy.
Mommy can you get me down?
Just a minute Andy.
Mommy I want to get down from my chair and play with Suey.
Just a minute Andy.
Mommy what are you doing?
I'm doing the dishes Andy.
Mommy what is Suey doing?
She's barking at the squirrels son.
She's barking at the squirrels.
Yes, Andy.
Mommy can I have a bite of your sandwich?
Andy I just threw the last bite down the garbage disposal.
Oh dear... (tears)

scarred for life. me, that is.

My parents are out of town and since I live next door to them, I'm babysitting their dogs while they're away. These dogs are a bit of a mixed bag: one of them is incredibly old, one of them urinates on everything, and one of them refuses to poop in the snow.

Andy and I spent an hour at Cabela's this afternoon, for some entertainment. When we returned home we stopped at my parents' house to let the dogs out to pee. While the dogs were out, I went to the sink and started filling up their giant water jug. Andy was milling about and I couldn't see him but I could hear him. After a few minutes he wandered over to where I was and held something up for me to see. I was in the middle of using the spray hose on the sink so it didn't immediately register what he had in his hand.

Until, of course, he said excitedly, "Look Mommy I've got poop!"

And he did have poop. There, in his hand, was a dog poo. I am 100% sure it was the corgi. Anyway, I screamed, "Oh my GOD Andy put it down!!!" out of sheer gut reaction, and he burst into tears and wiped his hand all over his wool coat.

That corgi is dead meat.

he just said

"Look at me Mommy. I'm shiny and pretty."

talking to himself and his bunny

We heard on the monitor after we put him in bed tonight:

"A...B...C....D.....E....F...G...."

He sang himself the ABCs.

Then silence.

Then: "Booba, you idiot."

entertainment

good

Out of the blue, while watching tv:

"I'm not picking my nose, Mommy."

Okay, son. Good. Glad to hear it.

space

This morning I was on the phone when Andy suddenly decided he just had to see "Finding Nemo". He likes to watch movies over on his side of the basement on his little portable dvd player sometimes, rather than on the big screen tv. I told him, "Not now Andy, I'm on the phone."

Of course he got upset and whined, and asked repeatedly until I gave in. I managed to untangle myself from the blankets and computer cords and drag my weary, sinus-infected body over there and queued up his dang movie. Then I stood there next to him for a few seconds to make sure the movie played.

Apparently this wasn't cool because he barked, "You go over there and sit in your chair, Mommy."

I was handed my hat. Two years old and already he wants his personal space.

splash

Last night Andy was goofing around in the kitchen while we prepared dinner. I told him not to get too wild, but he's two. Like he's really going to listen to me....

So to make a long story short, he lost his balance and fell, butt-first, into the dog's water. We have an enormous water cooler jug for Suey that holds 10 gallons, so it's a big bowl.

I thought Shawn was actually going to pee. He covered his mouth and bit his lip as hard as he could. There was Andy, sitting in the water, with a most pitiful look on his little face as the situation registered in his mind.

I helped him up and he teared up and started to cry and said, "Oh dear! My pants are wet!"

huh?

My dog and I are having issues.

She's been pooping in my foyer lately. She's always been wonderful about going outside and never, ever has accidents. So I don't know what the problem is, but I suspect it has to do with the fact that she doesn't like to go out when it rains. Regardless, I'm severely irked with her. A doberman pile is not a small thing to clean up.

So when I discovered today's pile I was understandably angry. This is the fourth time in a week. I cleaned it up, and spent a significant portion of that time yelling at her and going on about how upset I was.

Andy was sitting at the table having his lunch while this was going on. He could hear me ranting and shouted, "What's wrong Mommy!?" He asks me this whenever I make any kind of exclamation. He's nosy.

When I got back to the lunch table he asked me again and I said, "Suey pooped in the foyer."

He nodded and said, "Suey's in trouble. She peed on the dentist."

I just don't see where that came from at all.

he already knows

He threw something small. I wasn't mad.

I looked over at him.

He smiled at me and said, "I'm a naughty man."