Destroy: Mommy, watch! My Donald Duck dived.
Me: Good job, Donald. Good dive.
Destroy: He dived, Mommy!
Me: He dove.
Destroy: He dove? He didn’t dive?
Me: He did dive. But we say dove when he already did it.
Search: My guys are on boards.
Me: What letter is that board?
Search: S FOR SEARCH!
Me: Good job! How many “S”s do you have?
Me: That’s right!
Search: And this is a A!
Destroy: Apple! A for apple!
Destroy: And bacado.
Search: No, that’s B for bear.
Me: Well honey, Destroy’s actually right. It’s avocado. But good sound listening for “B.”
Destroy: Daddy, watch my Donald dove now.
Jon: Dive. He’s going to dive.
Destroy: No. He’s doving.
Search: No Daddy, that not Tricia. That’s Mommy.
Me: He dives, sweetie. If he jumps right now, he dives. If he jumped yesterday, he dove.
Destroy: Mommy said dove. Donald doves.
“Hide-and-seek, grown-up style. Wanting to hide.
Needing to be sought. Confused about being found.”
― All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten
There’s certainly something about being an adult and feeling the need to hide. And then there’s the opposite end of that spectrum – watching our children learn how to play the quintessential game of childhood that will eventually haunt all our adult lives (metaphorically). Continue reading
Boys wake up. Hear them happily chattering. Roll over – they’re old enough, maybe they can entertain themselves for a snooze button – they’re enjoying themselves.
ARGHHHH! MOMMEEEE HE DID IT!!!
Time to get up. Continue reading
I recognized the familiar rhythmic pulsing anomaly disturbing the calm of my kitchen immediately. The darkened path staining the stark white pail stored within the dingy wood cabinet.
The constant swaying motion, rapidly traveling in their distinctive trail, in and out through the abyss of the garbage disposal electrical socket – under the edges of the fraying rug, along the dusty baseboard until traversing the width of a white picketed front porch to the dirt mound rising ever so slightly among the trees and weeds. Continue reading
The amazing Mickey Mouse Cake arrived just before lunch. (Thanks to Roxy’s Sweet Treats for the delicious chocolate raspberry delectable.)
And with that whirlwind, the party prep began. The birthday boys were shuttled off to nap before their big debut. The bounce house was inflated in the backyard (because it’s apparently the law that all small child parties have one). Continue reading
You may have noticed that most small ones have the attention span of a newt. And although I do not deem to know precisely the intentions of the diapered hamster in my son’s brain, toddling furiously upon his wheel, I’m pretty confident in asserting the thoughts are all over the place.
So today we have a guest blog of sorts. Below is an actual conversation (monologue really) as one of everyone’s favorite muppets navigated his evening. I am not making this up. Continue reading
For those curious, it is not possible to flush an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet – cardboard roll and all. Even if you climb into the bowl to help shove it down. Continue reading
Destroy may physically be a carbon copy of his father, but lately it appears my genes have been making an appearance.
Tantrums abound. And I may have been a wee bit difficult (and/or incoherently irrational) as a small (midsize and large) child. Continue reading
It was a glorious 72-degree day. The sun was shining. The boys were sound asleep. I was having some quiet “me” time. What more could you want from a Sunday?
Perhaps I’ll write…but what about…
“Don’t worry! I got this,” thundered the universe around me.