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
Nap time was an adventure. Instead of cooperating, Destroy decided to strip. 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
My militaristic-type friends (by which I mean veterans of our armed forces) have shared that the tactics needed for escape and evasion are known as “SURVIVAL.” And it appears my future paratroopers were born with Man vs. Wild style instincts inherently embedded in their tiny fighting spirits.
At their present age, such methods are generally invoked against bathtime (apparently germs are to two-year-olds as long luxurious hair was to Solomon’s power) or bedtime (because no toddler has ever admitted to being tired in the history of evolution – the first rule of toddler sleepy time; NEVER MENTION BEING SLEEPY). Continue reading
“Doggie eats poop,” announced a very awake muppet. This was going to be a long night.
After two hours of chasing tail (haha), summersaults and “Hey Mommy! Watch This!” the witching hour grew nigh.
Bedtime.
Destroy was displeased with this development. Continue reading
If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant’s life, she will choose to save the infant’s life without even considering if there are men on base.
~Dave Barry (on the perils of motherhood.)
The muppets have been learning the concept of t-ball over the past several weeks. Or, more accurately, taking a primary-colored plastic bat larger than the small children wielding it, and gently tapping the foam ball from atop its primary-colored perch. Continue reading
My demarcation line between “baby” and “little boy” has always been toddlerhood. Toddlers are WAY bigger than babies. They’re like little people.
Well, look how far we’ve come from Tiny. This morning I found myself grunting as I heaved Destroy into his car seat – such typical mom behavior that I couldn’t even fathom a year ago. Last year, after the cause celebres arrived home, I could write a blog post with my laptop on my lap (shocking place for it, I know) and have Destroy lying on my chest – with no feelings of overcrowding or “don’t burn the baby with a hot electronic device.” Continue reading
