Friday, June 10, 2011


With Danny and Fiona, we had a good idea before they even turned a year old what we'd be in for during the toddler years.

With Owen, we had no idea. He really was the happiest, snuggliest, sweetest baby. And now? I actually can't remember when he was that cute. He chases me around in a perpetual whine. He screams when someone so much as looks at a toy he's playing with. He headbutted Jim's legs this week when Jim tried to block him from the street. He runs away laughing when he's caught with contraband. He randomly grabs at and tackles his confused siblings. He chews his food and spits it out. He throws his plate, fork, cups and food on the floor. We call this the barnyard phase. As I recall, it doesn't last too long. Eventually, they get hungry enough to eat.

And the child will not stop grabbing boobs. We call him Mr. Groper now. He even gropes his Nana:

What the heck are you doing, child? she asked one night as he copped a feel.
Oh, you're not special, Judith. And he's not going to buy you breakfast.

I'm about to go out and buy him a blow up doll. Seriously. We hope he outgrows this soon.

And Fiona is just plain loud this week. I literally can't hear myself think. Whenever I open my mouth, she opens hers wider and louder. But at least we've had only one pantry massacre this week. It involved her favorite food ever, of course.

I need a wipe, she told me, wide-eyed and apparently stunned that she couldn't hide the evidence of her marshmallow caper. She got into the marshmallow fluff.
Um, no. You need a bath. It coated her hands, arms, one leg and was in her hair.

You're doing a good job, mommy, Fiona said as I washed marshmallow fluff out of her hair. It was her second bath in an hour. Yes, I was doing a good job of staying calm, actually.

What do you want for lunch?
Peanut butter and butt. That would be peanut butter and fluff.

I left my butt at Nana's house, Fiona wailed from the back seat. She had left the toothbrush she was using there. The adults snickered at her dilemma.

We need to go to the store and get a big pool. Both of his Nana's have pools in their backyards.
Oh yeah? 
Yeah. Wake up my father. His father was sleeping in the van on our trip back from Maryland.

Attention, attention, Who wants to play tag? Danny shouted at the adults gathered in the front yard.

You didn't stop last time, Danny tells his father.
It was an optional one. It was a stoptional sign. And he will not be teaching our son to drive.

It was quite edible, Jim says about dinner one night. Um, thanks?

Hold [the popsicle] by the stick, genius, Danny told baby Owen. Ok, so maybe he does get sarcasm.

I want my moo moo, mommy, Fiona tells me as I'm folding laundry. That's what Jim calls her nightgowns.

Have a good weekend. 

1 comment:

Monica said...

oh, i have missed reading your blog. it just makes me giggle. thanks and hope you are having a great weekend. :o)