I love books. I love to read. I’ve been doing it since I was approximately the muppets age. They say everyone is born with a gift. I’m pretty sure mine was to read all the books.
The muppets were started on their own developing love of literature early, but they’ve finally begun reaching the age where they can express their own preferences. Both have their favorites.
Yes. Yes I was *that* mom in Target.
With two trantruming twins impressively flinging themselves about. The cart carrying them, with wheels already off-kilter, jerking in unnatural directions. Continue reading
When the muppets were born, they were indoctrinated to a cold, cruel, gravity-filled world. Instead of smiling alligators, bumble bees, and caterpillars adorning nursery walls in bold primary colors, their first ABCs were the red beeping alarms of apnea and bradycardia episodes in an intensive care isolette.
Now they’re closing in on age 3. And causing trouble. Yesterday I got pulled into the principal’s office. Because one of my little ones was spending a bit too much time in THE OFFICE. We’ve been observing and discussing next steps. Our new ABCs are antecedents, behavior, consequence.
Whatever. Interested in the actual alphabet involved in the parenting of a toddler? 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
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I like boots. They are my favorite winter footwear. (These boots were made for walking and all.) Black boots, brown boots, high heels, riding boots. (Dear Santa, I presently have a thing for red cowboy boots.)
I have clearly passed my love of shoes onto my children. Continue reading
School’s back in session. The clean crisp notebooks are just beginning to show stress on those wire binds. The intoxicating scent of ink bleeding into the pulpy pages still emanates every time you hear that magical crack of a textbook spine. And Bic has even made a special pen – just for my fairer sex! (Oh read the comments. You won’t be disappointed.
What’s that? Kids these days don’t take pen to paper and read Chapters 1-3 of the state approved textbook (copyright 1992)? GET OFF MY LAWN.
It’s Friday. And when I was a young whippersnapper, that generally meant a pop quiz. Inconceivable! 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
@HonestToddler: Pre-bedtime hysterics! Amiright? Going out in a blaze of cray cray!
I am aware I was not the most subdued of children. I’ve offered to let my mom take to these here interwebs to provide her memoirs on my adventurous toddler years. She politely demurred. Noting that nothing good could come of that little endeavor. (So that gives you a brief idea.) Continue reading
It’s official. I’m “that mom.”
Since the muppets have transitioned into the new Tiny Twos class, they now receive a daily report briefly detailing their progress. Yesterday’s summary read as follows:
“Destroy is becoming a bit too comfortable with me. He needs to learn listening is important.” Continue reading
