Danny chews his gum for five minutes before claiming that the "flavor is out." Fiona chews a tiny piece of gum all afternoon, saving it on her plate for each meal and snack. Fiona quietly stirs up trouble and you may never know what happened. Danny is like a fireworks show. They do miss each other, though.
They ran up and slid down the slide together like this for about a half hour one afternoon.
With Danny home on break, though, Fiona isn't getting as much attention as she's used to. The other day she sat down next to me and wailed,
Mommy, I haven't been with you. Ouch.
Fiona is a hoot these days. She's chatty and bright and social. And she says the weirdest things.
What's this on my arm? Fiona asks.
I don't know, honey.
It might be a tick. OR it might be ketchup, she says.
Whatcha making, Fi? I snuck up on her in the back yard.
Strawberry Tinkerbell soup, she says, cackling. Should I be frightened?
|Slushies on the porch|
I don't like celery. I don't like chicken. I don't like any of this. Fiona is our resident food critic.
Oh, well. No dessert.
I like it. Oh, of course, NOW you like it.
I don't want to eat anymore, mom, Fiona says.
Well, no dessert.
Ooooh. I want to eat. I'm pretty sure I'd mentioned this no dessert thing at least 10 times.
Unless you're here to poop or pee, get out of the bathroom, I tell the kids.
Oooooh. I didn't get to see Danny's poop and Owen flushed it, Fiona wails. It's like the daily poop exhibit.
We can't go because that lady's car is in front of us, Fiona tells me.
Um, no honey, we can't go because the Volvo won't start. We were stranded on the side of the road and a very nice woman and her daughter stayed with us until Jim could get there.
You ruined my kiss on my cheek, mommy, Fiona wailed. I'm not even sure how I did this, but I had to give her another night-night kiss.
Also, her secret is out. She does actually like us. For months, I would kiss her good night, tell her I love her and get this:
I love you, poop. Then she would cackle. Well, a few weeks ago, I started getting "I love you, mom." She's even said it first some nights.
Speaking of poop ...
I pooped on the powder, Owen informs me. Turns out he puked on a bottle of powder, which is slight better his initial assessment.
I'm peeing, Owen informs me. Oh, good. We're getting closer to potty training. (I love how everyone in this house informs me of their bodily functions.)
A few from the "I can't believe I have to say this" file:
Stop swinging the poopy underwear around. In the kitchen, no less.
No penis twiddling while I'm reading, I tell Owen who is simultaneously twiddling his penis and sucking his thumb. It's like the equivalent of walking and chewing gum or rubbing your tummy and patting your head, only much, much creepier. His response? He grunted at me and shoved his member back into his diaper.
Get out of the bathroom. It's not a museum.
Don't pick your nose with that carrot.
Boy, put that thing back in your pants. You want to get arrested? Jim tells Owen. That "thing" was his penis and we were at the park.
And from Captain Oblivious ...
I'm going outside.
OK. Don't bother [the A/C repair guy].
I don't ever bother anyone. This is funny on so many levels.
Napkin, Danny, Jim says as he passes around napkins.
No. I never get dirty. Oh, okay.
MOM. MOM. It's 2 a.m. and Danny is screaming from his room.
I can't zip my sleeping bag, he whines indignantly. (Asshole.)
MOM. MOM. I trudged up the stairs.
What is it, dear?
My blanket. I can't reach it. Guess where it was? Within his reach if he had just SAT UP. (Asshole.)
Mom, Owen has an appointment and he won't come, Fiona wails. So now I'm supposed to mediate in the land of make believe, too?
I can hear it with my special ear, Danny squealed. He heard the train coming. How come his special ear doesn't hear his mother so well?
Oh, look, there it is. I can see it with my powerful eyes, Danny exclaims upon seeing the grist mill at the river. Now I just love his confidence, but I can't help but wonder why his powerful eyes don't see the trail of clothing he drops on the floor or the "lost" toy that is right under his nose.
Have a great week.