Before I tell you this story, I must preface it with the fact that Little Monster is every bit a four year old boy. He talks. And talks. And talks. The other night while with my mom the child talked for five and a half hours. Without a break. Without a pause for someone to answer the billions of questions he was asking. He just talked. It wouldn't be so bad if the child would use some punctuation when he spoke - -but often one sentence just rambles into another. Sometimes he forgets spaces for his wordsandtheyendupsoundingmuchlikethislooks.
I know. You all think, eh. Typical four year old. I'm not sure. I think he talks more than most four year olds, but maybe that's because I'm with him constantly.
By the end of the night, my mom and I just stared at each other, mouths agape in horror at the fact that he hadn't passed out from lack of oxygen. And then he went to bed and I watched Elf. It's not a masterpiece of the arts by any means, but after the day I'd had with Little Monster, it was downright hilarious in parts. Elf was Little Monster. Little Monster was Elf.
But now we need to get back to the original story. This evening it happened again. Non-stop talking. Running up and down the aisles at Michael's, while bouncing all over the place. I'd put him in "time-out" touching the cart, but it wasn't working. My patience was getting worn out. As we were in line checking out, he started to act up again. (Act up is probably a bit harsh. He was really just being a bit loud and asking questions I was too tired to answer and I didn't want to sound like a grouch around all of the other people in line). I didn't have much left for it. He had worn me out during the day with all "his friend who lives in Frank in the white house, and to get there you turn left and left then right and can we go over to his house after school his telephone number is 4" talk.
So, as we were standing there, and was tempted to issue an empty threat for a spanking, it came out of my mouth without thinking.
Little Monster. Did you know that there is a lady who spanks naughty kids in stores?
What? There was. That one lady. That one time. You don't remember?? Read This. Yeah, see. I didn't lie.
I thought it might squelch the very minor attitude and get him to be quiet for a minute. I was wrong. It just brought on more questions.
Mom, that girl that spanks naughty kids -- where is she?
I don't know. She could be anywhere! (Now I know she WAS in Ohio, but I don't know where she is right now.)
Mom is she here now?
I don't know honey.
MOOOooom. You're just joking. Right?!
Cue the guy who is standing in front of me with his young wife (who is giggling uncontrollably).
"No! I've heard about her!!"
At that moment you could see all of the color drain out of poor Little Monster's face as his jaw dropped down. We all stood around discussing whether it was possible if she was in the store the poor kid started to get scared. That some mythical woman might jump out between the checkout lanes and swap him in the butt for being naughty in the yarn section of Michael's. And the more we talked about it, the harder it was to contain my seriousness. The lady in front of us (young wife) was crying she was laughing so hard. She literally HID her face in her coat at one point because she didn't want to ruin the moment.
I may or may not have mentioned that if this mythical lady has to come out to spank you, she immediately calls Santa and puts you on the naughty list.
I'm not terribly proud of my momentary lapse in parental judgement. But I might just use it to my advantage. After all, I don't know where that lady is at any given time, and she could be anywhere, ready to spank my naughty children for me since I'm not willing to do it in public myself. But at least I'm not duct taping him to walls. Yet.
Showing posts with label Little Monster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Little Monster. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Imaginings of a Little Monster
Pssst! Psst!
What was that sound? Did you hear it? Wet's Wook! It was Swiper DA FOX! He wost him goggles and gwoves. And he's wivving in the woods where da bad wolves are! But here comes bumbow bee to wescue him from da bad wolves. And I'm gonna hewp him. Wif my wocket boots. And mine bwoo jet. Mine JET hand! Because I'm a woobot. I'm a GOOD wooobot. And dat was NOT swiper. Swiper is weally in the woods still. AND I'M BATMAN!
Mom -- are dere bad wolves in da woods?
Not much anymore.
Oh.
There are wolves in the woods in other places though.
Oh. Okay... Den dat is where swiper is.
IIIIROOOONNNN MAN! IIIIRROOOON MANN!
WHEN SOMEONE IS IN TWUBBLE,
HE'S ON DA WAY
WHEN SOMEONE NEEDS HELP
HE'LL SAVE DA DAY
IIIROOOONNN MAN! IIIIIROOONNN MAN!
HE FWIIES! HE FWIIEES! HE FWIIIES!
As far as I know he made that song up himself. Unless there's some random Iron Man cartoon that uses that for their theme. Even still, I'm just as impressed that he remembered it.
What was that sound? Did you hear it? Wet's Wook! It was Swiper DA FOX! He wost him goggles and gwoves. And he's wivving in the woods where da bad wolves are! But here comes bumbow bee to wescue him from da bad wolves. And I'm gonna hewp him. Wif my wocket boots. And mine bwoo jet. Mine JET hand! Because I'm a woobot. I'm a GOOD wooobot. And dat was NOT swiper. Swiper is weally in the woods still. AND I'M BATMAN!
Mom -- are dere bad wolves in da woods?
Not much anymore.
Oh.
There are wolves in the woods in other places though.
Oh. Okay... Den dat is where swiper is.
IIIIROOOONNNN MAN! IIIIRROOOON MANN!
WHEN SOMEONE IS IN TWUBBLE,
HE'S ON DA WAY
WHEN SOMEONE NEEDS HELP
HE'LL SAVE DA DAY
IIIROOOONNN MAN! IIIIIROOONNN MAN!
HE FWIIES! HE FWIIEES! HE FWIIIES!
As far as I know he made that song up himself. Unless there's some random Iron Man cartoon that uses that for their theme. Even still, I'm just as impressed that he remembered it.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Kids and Bikes and Long, Long Rides
We like to take bike rides in our family. Well, that is, if we're on a fairly flat path and not a street -- I hate sharing the road with crazy drivers in a car, let alone on a bicycle toting my precious babies.
The past couple of years we've done some biking. And Daddy has tried to induce heart attacks, strokes and the eviction of my lungs through my mouth by taking me on rides up hills. By hills, I mean hills. Hills that would make Lance Armstrong think a bit about how he's going to ride up. A couple of years ago we went for a ride that should have been pretty flat behind our housing community in California. And that "flat" ride turned into a roller coaster ride that we had to power ourselves. It wasn't fun. There was tears and lots and lots of whining. And then Little Monster got tired of riding in the bike trailer and started crying too. Poor Daddy has to put up with a lot.
We found a flat path and rode it after that. But now, just the thought of a hill makes me wince. He mentioned that we should ride our bikes to the pool while visiting his parents, but he warned me of a hill once you leave. I whined and put off the ride and the pool thinking it was going to be something like the roads of California. And then I gave up and we went. And after we'd returned, I asked Daddy where in the world that hill he had talked about was. We decided there was a slight incline in the road for about a block. And it might have been a killer hill when he was ten on a single speed bike, after being in the pool all day. Before he met a real hill.
This past weekend we went up to Maine with the express thought of riding around some of the Rockefeller's Carriage paths on our bikes. We'd walked them a few years back when his frigate pulled into a town in a 'down-east' area with the dogs and had a great time. We have talked about going back several times.
We had seen these bike trailers everywhere that looked amazing. They basically make your bike into a tandem bike so the kids can ride and work, or just hold on and be part of the 'grownup' crowd on the bike ride. Of course, when we went to purchase them we couldn't find one in a store that we could take home to try before heading off on our trip. We ended up ordering one through our Sporting Goods Coop and it arrived the day before we left. As we were packing up the camper to go, we tested it out and set it up so that Little Monster could ride behind Daddy. The first try was really wobbly. We had a hard time convincing Little Monster to get on it after some adjustments. I think we may have even threatened a spanking. Eventually, after getting on the thing, Daddy and Little Monster rode around the block. And then they rode around the block again, per Little Monster's request. And again. And again. He loved it.
When we got there we couldn't park in the lot nearest our planned bike path because it was full, no big deal, we parked at a different spot and adjusted our bike route so that we weren't adding a zillion miles to the ride, considering we weren't sure how Little Monster was going to do on the bike ride. We got about a half mile into the bike ride and realized that "witch hole" meant that it was a witch to get our bikes up and over that hill. I felt like a big sissy whining and crying and trying to cough my lungs out through my mouth. I regretted all of those days I skipped my workout and swore I'd try to be better about remembering to pedal like a fiend on our recumbent bike at home. .
After a very painful 1 1/2 miles, we got to the parking lot where we had planned to start. I seriously considered wimping out and telling Daddy to go get the truck. I was so done. But then I looked back and Butterball was asleep in the chariot, starting to stir because we weren't moving anymore. Little Monster had started whining because we'd stopped long enough to use the bathroom, so I knew he wouldn't be happy if I said we were done and going home. So, I toughed it up and kept going.
I made the right decision. The first hill wiped me out, and I was tired, but once I got my second wind, it was fine. It also helped that the majority of the rest of the ride was gradual uphills and downhills. Little Monster loved passing me on the bike. I can't count the number of times I heard "Ha HA! I'm winning MOMMY! I'm PASSING YOU!" come from his mouth. About 2/3 of the way through the ride we stopped for a picnic. The kids ate better than they have in months. Little Monster was really excited to have a real picnic. Little Monster happily rode the entire 12 miles on the bike, only complaining that he was hungry before we had our lunch.
And then we got to the "witch" hill again. Only this time we were going down. There were caution signs warning about steep grades and sharp curves. The hills going down were no joke. I rode my brakes the entire time. I'm guessing I wasn't as big of a wuss as I imagined. On our way down, we met several people walking their bikes up the hill, just like I did.
The last night of the trip, I snuggled with Little Monster to get him to sleep and we talked about our favorite parts of the trip. He liked swimming in the ocean. And he liked riding his bike around the campground and having the campfire. But he said his favorite part was the bike ride.
Using the bike trailer gave him confidence that he could ride his bike. He hasn't wanted to ride his bicycle since we got it, because he, like me, was scarred by the crazy hills in California. Ever since we went on that bike ride, though, he's been excited about riding his bike and wants to ride all of the time.
The trailer was worth every penny to see the giant smile on Little Monster's face every time he passed me. It was a bonus that he now wants to ride his bicycle everywhere we go "REALLY FAST!"
The past couple of years we've done some biking. And Daddy has tried to induce heart attacks, strokes and the eviction of my lungs through my mouth by taking me on rides up hills. By hills, I mean hills. Hills that would make Lance Armstrong think a bit about how he's going to ride up. A couple of years ago we went for a ride that should have been pretty flat behind our housing community in California. And that "flat" ride turned into a roller coaster ride that we had to power ourselves. It wasn't fun. There was tears and lots and lots of whining. And then Little Monster got tired of riding in the bike trailer and started crying too. Poor Daddy has to put up with a lot.
We found a flat path and rode it after that. But now, just the thought of a hill makes me wince. He mentioned that we should ride our bikes to the pool while visiting his parents, but he warned me of a hill once you leave. I whined and put off the ride and the pool thinking it was going to be something like the roads of California. And then I gave up and we went. And after we'd returned, I asked Daddy where in the world that hill he had talked about was. We decided there was a slight incline in the road for about a block. And it might have been a killer hill when he was ten on a single speed bike, after being in the pool all day. Before he met a real hill.
This past weekend we went up to Maine with the express thought of riding around some of the Rockefeller's Carriage paths on our bikes. We'd walked them a few years back when his frigate pulled into a town in a 'down-east' area with the dogs and had a great time. We have talked about going back several times.
We had seen these bike trailers everywhere that looked amazing. They basically make your bike into a tandem bike so the kids can ride and work, or just hold on and be part of the 'grownup' crowd on the bike ride. Of course, when we went to purchase them we couldn't find one in a store that we could take home to try before heading off on our trip. We ended up ordering one through our Sporting Goods Coop and it arrived the day before we left. As we were packing up the camper to go, we tested it out and set it up so that Little Monster could ride behind Daddy. The first try was really wobbly. We had a hard time convincing Little Monster to get on it after some adjustments. I think we may have even threatened a spanking. Eventually, after getting on the thing, Daddy and Little Monster rode around the block. And then they rode around the block again, per Little Monster's request. And again. And again. He loved it.
When we got there we couldn't park in the lot nearest our planned bike path because it was full, no big deal, we parked at a different spot and adjusted our bike route so that we weren't adding a zillion miles to the ride, considering we weren't sure how Little Monster was going to do on the bike ride. We got about a half mile into the bike ride and realized that "witch hole" meant that it was a witch to get our bikes up and over that hill. I felt like a big sissy whining and crying and trying to cough my lungs out through my mouth. I regretted all of those days I skipped my workout and swore I'd try to be better about remembering to pedal like a fiend on our recumbent bike at home. .
After a very painful 1 1/2 miles, we got to the parking lot where we had planned to start. I seriously considered wimping out and telling Daddy to go get the truck. I was so done. But then I looked back and Butterball was asleep in the chariot, starting to stir because we weren't moving anymore. Little Monster had started whining because we'd stopped long enough to use the bathroom, so I knew he wouldn't be happy if I said we were done and going home. So, I toughed it up and kept going.
I made the right decision. The first hill wiped me out, and I was tired, but once I got my second wind, it was fine. It also helped that the majority of the rest of the ride was gradual uphills and downhills. Little Monster loved passing me on the bike. I can't count the number of times I heard "Ha HA! I'm winning MOMMY! I'm PASSING YOU!" come from his mouth. About 2/3 of the way through the ride we stopped for a picnic. The kids ate better than they have in months. Little Monster was really excited to have a real picnic. Little Monster happily rode the entire 12 miles on the bike, only complaining that he was hungry before we had our lunch.
And then we got to the "witch" hill again. Only this time we were going down. There were caution signs warning about steep grades and sharp curves. The hills going down were no joke. I rode my brakes the entire time. I'm guessing I wasn't as big of a wuss as I imagined. On our way down, we met several people walking their bikes up the hill, just like I did.
The last night of the trip, I snuggled with Little Monster to get him to sleep and we talked about our favorite parts of the trip. He liked swimming in the ocean. And he liked riding his bike around the campground and having the campfire. But he said his favorite part was the bike ride.
Using the bike trailer gave him confidence that he could ride his bike. He hasn't wanted to ride his bicycle since we got it, because he, like me, was scarred by the crazy hills in California. Ever since we went on that bike ride, though, he's been excited about riding his bike and wants to ride all of the time.
The trailer was worth every penny to see the giant smile on Little Monster's face every time he passed me. It was a bonus that he now wants to ride his bicycle everywhere we go "REALLY FAST!"
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Moments of Hilarity
Is Hilarity a word? Probably not. I don't care. Little Monster has been at his best lately. Here's some little pieces of proof:
Doorbell rings. (It's the pizza delivery gal.)
Daddy attempts to open the door to pay, while holding back both eager children and a crazy dog.
Pizza delivery driver notices Little Monster (wearing his pajamas and his green frog rain boots) and says:
How old are you?
I'm fwee.
Oh, you're three? What's YOUR name?
(In a very serious tone, with the most serious of furrowed brows) I'm ROCKETman! BSSSSSSSSHHHHHH!
Then the child turned around and "blasted off" down the hallway.
Daddy said that he was lucky to get his pizza. The lady laughed so hard she nearly dropped it.
The night was quiet. Daddy and I were enjoying some hard earned TV time, happy the kids had finally gone to sleep.
MOOOoooooooOOOOOOMmm! DAAAAAAaaaaaAAAAADDDDYYYYY! I'm AAAALLLLL WEHHHHTTTT!
We both looked at each other with quizzical expressions, wondering what in the world was going on. We checked on Little Monster to find that his pillow and front of his shirt were wet. I said:
Little Monster, how did everything get all wet? Did you get sick to your stomach?!
NO! The waves just came! They came up and right into my window and got into mine bed. The waves splashed all over me and got me all wet!
We dropped Daddy off at the shop to get the oil changed in Schmitty. Meanwhile, the kids and I walked up to the store. As we were walking, Little Monster yells out "BEEP BEEP! BATMAN COMING FROOO!"
Earlier in the morning, he demanded to be called Superman and told us that his green frog boots were actually red superman boots. He would not respond to anything other than superman. So, I asked him:
I thought you were SUPERMAN!?
MOOOOOoooom!!! I just CHANGED my SUUUUUIIT!
And now I must ask -- how do you break a kid from wearing a dorky pair of frog rain boots a parent may or may not have purchased on a weak day. The child wears them constantly when we are at home. He begs to wear them out of the house. They function as rocket boots, superman boots, batman boots, iron man boots, and pretty much any other kind of boot he thinks he may or may not need. I'm a little bit afraid that his feet are getting sweaty in there and his feet are going to rot off.
Doorbell rings. (It's the pizza delivery gal.)
Daddy attempts to open the door to pay, while holding back both eager children and a crazy dog.
Pizza delivery driver notices Little Monster (wearing his pajamas and his green frog rain boots) and says:
How old are you?
I'm fwee.
Oh, you're three? What's YOUR name?
(In a very serious tone, with the most serious of furrowed brows) I'm ROCKETman! BSSSSSSSSHHHHHH!
Then the child turned around and "blasted off" down the hallway.
Daddy said that he was lucky to get his pizza. The lady laughed so hard she nearly dropped it.
The night was quiet. Daddy and I were enjoying some hard earned TV time, happy the kids had finally gone to sleep.
MOOOoooooooOOOOOOMmm! DAAAAAAaaaaaAAAAADDDDYYYYY! I'm AAAALLLLL WEHHHHTTTT!
We both looked at each other with quizzical expressions, wondering what in the world was going on. We checked on Little Monster to find that his pillow and front of his shirt were wet. I said:
Little Monster, how did everything get all wet? Did you get sick to your stomach?!
NO! The waves just came! They came up and right into my window and got into mine bed. The waves splashed all over me and got me all wet!
We dropped Daddy off at the shop to get the oil changed in Schmitty. Meanwhile, the kids and I walked up to the store. As we were walking, Little Monster yells out "BEEP BEEP! BATMAN COMING FROOO!"
Earlier in the morning, he demanded to be called Superman and told us that his green frog boots were actually red superman boots. He would not respond to anything other than superman. So, I asked him:
I thought you were SUPERMAN!?
MOOOOOoooom!!! I just CHANGED my SUUUUUIIT!
And now I must ask -- how do you break a kid from wearing a dorky pair of frog rain boots a parent may or may not have purchased on a weak day. The child wears them constantly when we are at home. He begs to wear them out of the house. They function as rocket boots, superman boots, batman boots, iron man boots, and pretty much any other kind of boot he thinks he may or may not need. I'm a little bit afraid that his feet are getting sweaty in there and his feet are going to rot off.
Saturday, June 05, 2010
What?!
Apparently my Little Monster has a girlfriend. If you asked him, he'd tell you that he has two. TWO girlfriends?! I guess when you're one of four boys in a preschool class of sixteen you are one lucky guy... And when you're one of twelve girls, you do what you have to.
All I've heard about is having a "play over" with this new girlfriend. Girlfriend B to be specific. Girlfriend C is nice, but he wants to go camping with B, and play with her, and do all kinds of things. It isn't just on his end, either. When I talked to his teacher about it today, she said she had assumed that we were all friends outside of school, because of the way the two kids play together. I guess we'll be forced into it for the summer!
The great thing is that I know that both children are enrolled in day camp together over the summer. So even if we don't get to have "play overs" very often, he'll get to spend time with her.
And in another note -- Butterball is now banned from school. I don't think Daddy would like the idea of her having a boyfriend. She's Daddy's girl and I'm not sure he's ready to share yet.
All I've heard about is having a "play over" with this new girlfriend. Girlfriend B to be specific. Girlfriend C is nice, but he wants to go camping with B, and play with her, and do all kinds of things. It isn't just on his end, either. When I talked to his teacher about it today, she said she had assumed that we were all friends outside of school, because of the way the two kids play together. I guess we'll be forced into it for the summer!
The great thing is that I know that both children are enrolled in day camp together over the summer. So even if we don't get to have "play overs" very often, he'll get to spend time with her.
And in another note -- Butterball is now banned from school. I don't think Daddy would like the idea of her having a boyfriend. She's Daddy's girl and I'm not sure he's ready to share yet.
Friday, April 02, 2010
The Sneaky Snunk!
The other day I went into Little Monster's room to find a huge mess. It's nothing new. Lego's all over the floor, blocks and little plastic soldier men laying, guns facing up, just waiting for my bare feet in the middle of the night. It's not normally a big deal, but this time his room had a certain unfriendly aroma.
It wasn't sour milk. It wasn't any kind of rotting food or dirty sheets, diapers or anything else. It was that little boy sweat smell. It surprised me to find that my little baby is big enough to make that sweaty boy smell, and that it can take up residence in his room already. (I am so not looking forward to puberty and the horrible smells that go along with that!)
I started tidying his room so that I could vacuum and maybe spray some deodorizer into his carpet to try to fix the problem. Little Monster was in a helpful mood so I tried to convince him to help me clean his room. He wasn't so sure he wanted to pick up all of his toys, so I explained to him that his room stunk and I wanted to pick up the toys so I could get rid of the smell.
A few minutes later, Little Monster stopped all cleaning and stood there. He was making the sound he makes when the wheels start cranking in his brain -- it's almost a sigh with a hard beginning -- and as he was making that sound, you could see the light bulb turn on above his head as he reached his "aha" moment.
"MOMMY! I KNOW WHY MY WOOM IS SNINKY!!" A SNUNK GOT IN HERE!!"
A Snunk? What is a snunk? I'm pretty sure it wasn't in here.
YES! MOMMY! A SNUNK! THAT SNEAKY SNINKY SNUNK!
What is a snunk Little Monster?
A. SSS.NUNK! A BWACK AND WIPE AMINAL! A SNUNK!!! WE NEED TO FIND HIM! HE'S HIDING IN MINE WOOM AND MAKING IT ALL SNINKY!
After that I had no trouble getting him to help me clean the room. However, he was really disappointed that there wasn't a skunk in his room. His imagination knows no bounds, my kid. And that skunk? Little Monster says he lives in the bushes in front of the house across the street. Waiting to sneak back into his room when it's all messy. I'm sure we'll be getting a visit from him again very soon.
It wasn't sour milk. It wasn't any kind of rotting food or dirty sheets, diapers or anything else. It was that little boy sweat smell. It surprised me to find that my little baby is big enough to make that sweaty boy smell, and that it can take up residence in his room already. (I am so not looking forward to puberty and the horrible smells that go along with that!)
I started tidying his room so that I could vacuum and maybe spray some deodorizer into his carpet to try to fix the problem. Little Monster was in a helpful mood so I tried to convince him to help me clean his room. He wasn't so sure he wanted to pick up all of his toys, so I explained to him that his room stunk and I wanted to pick up the toys so I could get rid of the smell.
A few minutes later, Little Monster stopped all cleaning and stood there. He was making the sound he makes when the wheels start cranking in his brain -- it's almost a sigh with a hard beginning -- and as he was making that sound, you could see the light bulb turn on above his head as he reached his "aha" moment.
"MOMMY! I KNOW WHY MY WOOM IS SNINKY!!" A SNUNK GOT IN HERE!!"
A Snunk? What is a snunk? I'm pretty sure it wasn't in here.
YES! MOMMY! A SNUNK! THAT SNEAKY SNINKY SNUNK!
What is a snunk Little Monster?
A. SSS.NUNK! A BWACK AND WIPE AMINAL! A SNUNK!!! WE NEED TO FIND HIM! HE'S HIDING IN MINE WOOM AND MAKING IT ALL SNINKY!
After that I had no trouble getting him to help me clean the room. However, he was really disappointed that there wasn't a skunk in his room. His imagination knows no bounds, my kid. And that skunk? Little Monster says he lives in the bushes in front of the house across the street. Waiting to sneak back into his room when it's all messy. I'm sure we'll be getting a visit from him again very soon.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Charisma and Chocolate Bunnies
Charisma. One of the definitions is "personal magnetism or charm" according to http://www.dictionary.com/ Little Monster normally exudes that kind of charisma, but today it was pouring out in buckets and leaving a mess all over the floor at the Commissary (that's the base grocery store for you non-military folks).
It all started in the car on the way to there. He asked about something related to Easter, and I took it as a teaching moment to tell him about why we celebrate it. I told him that Jesus died to save us and was buried behind a big rock in a mountain. Everyone was sad, but a few days later, he came back to life and (because he's super strong like super man) pushed the rock off. It made everyone happy to see him again. Now he's in heaven waiting for us all... Okay.. So, then I had to explain that Superman is not, in fact, Jesus -- or vice versa. I wasn't sure how much of it he picked up.
Until we got to the grocery store.
He saw the chocolate rabbits and wanted one. Daddy is on a diet, trying to prove that the military standards for people built like him aren't exactly correct about body fat, so I hadn't bought any chocolate rabbits for anyone. But, I caved today and got one for Little Monster. I picked one out and told him he could have it on Easter.
"After Jesus comes, on Easter Day?!"
Yes, I told him. So, he was very excited about the fact he was going to get his chocolate rabbit on Easter. Add to that, the fact that this particular commissary hasn't dished out the cash for any kind of child-friendly shopping carts we had back in California. Man, do I miss those. So, Butterball is in seat of the cart (I should be saying carriage since I'm in New England!), and Little Monster is supposed to be walking very near the cart, keeping his hand in contact with the metal cage at all times. Instead we walk past the fruit section and he yells out "I WANT ORANGES!" and runs over to try to grab one. I reminded him that we weren't there to get oranges, so he calmly came back and walked with me. Since he was so anxious to help pick out groceries, I let him be my helper. He was in charge of finding the items I needed on my list.
It all started in the car on the way to there. He asked about something related to Easter, and I took it as a teaching moment to tell him about why we celebrate it. I told him that Jesus died to save us and was buried behind a big rock in a mountain. Everyone was sad, but a few days later, he came back to life and (because he's super strong like super man) pushed the rock off. It made everyone happy to see him again. Now he's in heaven waiting for us all... Okay.. So, then I had to explain that Superman is not, in fact, Jesus -- or vice versa. I wasn't sure how much of it he picked up.
Until we got to the grocery store.
He saw the chocolate rabbits and wanted one. Daddy is on a diet, trying to prove that the military standards for people built like him aren't exactly correct about body fat, so I hadn't bought any chocolate rabbits for anyone. But, I caved today and got one for Little Monster. I picked one out and told him he could have it on Easter.
"After Jesus comes, on Easter Day?!"
Yes, I told him. So, he was very excited about the fact he was going to get his chocolate rabbit on Easter. Add to that, the fact that this particular commissary hasn't dished out the cash for any kind of child-friendly shopping carts we had back in California. Man, do I miss those. So, Butterball is in seat of the cart (I should be saying carriage since I'm in New England!), and Little Monster is supposed to be walking very near the cart, keeping his hand in contact with the metal cage at all times. Instead we walk past the fruit section and he yells out "I WANT ORANGES!" and runs over to try to grab one. I reminded him that we weren't there to get oranges, so he calmly came back and walked with me. Since he was so anxious to help pick out groceries, I let him be my helper. He was in charge of finding the items I needed on my list.
In theory it was a good idea.
In reality, it wasn't a terrible idea, it just meant that he really wanted to help. And everyone within a thirty foot radius of us was going to find out what we needed, what color it was and how many we needed. If they were lucky enough, they'd even get to have a discussion with him about whatever it was. And then there was the miraculous sudden cravings for things like pickles -- which he normally won't eat. Or lettuce. He wanted to buy everything he won't eat, claiming he liked it.
Then there was the employee who was guarding the hams. (I say this, because she was standing next to a grocery cart full of hams. Not stocking them, just hanging out with them.) She struck up conversation with Little Monster. Which was a mistake. He started talking to her about his chocolate bunny. And how he was going to eat it on Easter. And then he talked about his Daddy and Mommy and sister. Then the poor lady asked him who was coming on Easter -- expecting to get an answer about an Easter Bunny, she looked a little confused when Little Monster said VERY excitedly:
"Jesus is coming! And he saved huss (he can't say us without the H)! And he's Coming! On Easter Day Sunday! And I get to eat my chocolate bunny with the carrot on Easter day after jesuscomesbackandbutterballdidn'tgetachocolatebunnybecauseshesababy!
My husband is glad he wasn't along for that ride. He doesn't like a scene. And Little Monster was the scene in the store this morning. When people in the ham aisle heard him talking about Jesus, they all turned to listen to his story, smiling sweetly. We created quite a traffic jam in front of those Easter hams while he explained that he was getting to eat that chocolate bunny right after Jesus came back to life on "Easter Day."
In the checkout aisle, the clerk got the whole schpeal too -- only now he had Easter cookies. And onewasforbutterballanditwastheeggoneandtheduckoneisformeanditsbecauseitseasterandiwasgoodandjesusiscoming. And he wanted to give the bagger man his pennies to say thank you for his hard work. And he was determined to give the man his penny. He HAD to give the man the penny!
I swear the kid was oozing so much charisma, he was why they had to call for a clean up on aisle three. By the end of the trip, I was exhausted. And so was Butterball.
Do you think there's anything in the Easter story about how after Jesus comes on Easter Day, and chocolate bunnies are eaten that three year olds should take a nap? There should be.
Monday, March 22, 2010
The time flies!
I can't believe how quickly time is passing. **Warning! A maximum amount of cheesy content is below! Maybe it's the rain and gloom today? But seriously. Cheese Alert!**
I was reading some of my older entries about weaning Little Monster the other day, since, we are getting close to that time with Butterball. It seems that time changes your perception of things. I always thought that Little Monster slept through the night by about 7 months, but it turns out that he wasn't really. I thought I nursed him until a year, but really he was weaned by about 10 months. It must be something God does so that we'll continue to want more children even after enduring months of pain during pregnancy, hours and days of even more pain during delivery, and then months or maybe years of sleep deprivation along with massive amounts of horrid laundry, dishes, and constant cleaning just to keep up.
Butterball is no where near being weaned. She's still nursing four times per day, and then at least once at night. What's a mom to do? I don't enjoy getting up in the middle of the night to be a pacifier. However, I'm not sure I'm ready to give up nursing her. She's our last baby and there's something about that fact that keeps me wanting her to remain a baby.
She is, however doing everything in her power to remind me that babies grow up -- quickly. She's already begun walking. Just last night I caught her walking from the kitchen all the way down the hall to her brother's bedroom. This morning as my friends were leaving, she held her hand out to wave and said "buh buh" I'm not sure if she was calling my friends name or saying "bye bye" but either way. She also has begun letting out wails of MAAAAA MAAAAA in an utterly pathetic tone when I leave her in her bed for naps and she thinks she isn't tired yet.
This morning she nearly ripped my heart out when she cried for me. She's eating real foods now. She's mastered a sippy cup. And she has opinions. She's not afraid to share her opinions either. This week she's figured out that if she waves here hands just so, I'll ask her if she's all done, and take her out of the high chair. She giggles uncontrollably when her brother make silly sounds. You should see how she adores him. It's crazy.
Little Monster adores his preschool. Almost as much as I do. He's younger than most of the kids in his class since he joined mid-year, but he's doing pretty well as far as I know. He's come home with a few new habits, some good --like washing his hands without complaint. Just the other day he announced that March starts with M. And he's begun being an amazing helper at home. Just last night he set the table for dinner. On his own. Without any kind of prompting or direction. They must teach manners at this school of his. Either that or he was very hungry. He's grown into such a little boy, not nearly the baby that I knew only a little more than a year ago.
With all the bad in our world, I know I'm truly blessed to be a witness to these kids growing up. I hope that time will slow down just a bit though. I like what I'm seeing.
I was reading some of my older entries about weaning Little Monster the other day, since, we are getting close to that time with Butterball. It seems that time changes your perception of things. I always thought that Little Monster slept through the night by about 7 months, but it turns out that he wasn't really. I thought I nursed him until a year, but really he was weaned by about 10 months. It must be something God does so that we'll continue to want more children even after enduring months of pain during pregnancy, hours and days of even more pain during delivery, and then months or maybe years of sleep deprivation along with massive amounts of horrid laundry, dishes, and constant cleaning just to keep up.
Butterball is no where near being weaned. She's still nursing four times per day, and then at least once at night. What's a mom to do? I don't enjoy getting up in the middle of the night to be a pacifier. However, I'm not sure I'm ready to give up nursing her. She's our last baby and there's something about that fact that keeps me wanting her to remain a baby.
She is, however doing everything in her power to remind me that babies grow up -- quickly. She's already begun walking. Just last night I caught her walking from the kitchen all the way down the hall to her brother's bedroom. This morning as my friends were leaving, she held her hand out to wave and said "buh buh" I'm not sure if she was calling my friends name or saying "bye bye" but either way. She also has begun letting out wails of MAAAAA MAAAAA in an utterly pathetic tone when I leave her in her bed for naps and she thinks she isn't tired yet.
This morning she nearly ripped my heart out when she cried for me. She's eating real foods now. She's mastered a sippy cup. And she has opinions. She's not afraid to share her opinions either. This week she's figured out that if she waves here hands just so, I'll ask her if she's all done, and take her out of the high chair. She giggles uncontrollably when her brother make silly sounds. You should see how she adores him. It's crazy.
Little Monster adores his preschool. Almost as much as I do. He's younger than most of the kids in his class since he joined mid-year, but he's doing pretty well as far as I know. He's come home with a few new habits, some good --like washing his hands without complaint. Just the other day he announced that March starts with M. And he's begun being an amazing helper at home. Just last night he set the table for dinner. On his own. Without any kind of prompting or direction. They must teach manners at this school of his. Either that or he was very hungry. He's grown into such a little boy, not nearly the baby that I knew only a little more than a year ago.
With all the bad in our world, I know I'm truly blessed to be a witness to these kids growing up. I hope that time will slow down just a bit though. I like what I'm seeing.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Wanted!
Boy Aged 3, goes by Little Monster. Other Aliases include but are not limited to Bo-Bo and Wolverine. Last seen wearing denim pants, brown shoes and grey hooded sweatshirt. Rosy cheeks and messy hair. Possibly covered in dirt. Carrying a rope.
Dog. Aged 13. Jack Russell Terrier, White and Tan. Some aging apparent on face in muzzle and eyebrows. Goes by the name of Buster. May or may not be wearing a red collar.
Approach with caution as the two could be considered armed and dangerous. They were last seen on Saturday afternoon. They are believed to have escaped from the high security facility known as Grandparents backyard. The escape was believed to be a team effort out of the back gate. Their motives are yet unknown as are many of the details of the escape.
Either I have a Doctor Doolittle on my hands, or we're in big trouble. Maybe a little bit of both. This morning, while I was taking and unexpected nap with Baby Butterball, Little Monster came in crying because Grandpa said he wasn't allowed to play outside anymore. Why? Because Grandpa had found the dog outside of the gate, while Little Monster was attempting to climb over it out of the backyard.
We interrogated both parties. According to Little Monster, Buster was tired of being in jail. So Little Monster helped Buster to get out of the yard, then decided he needed to "rescue" Buster. The dog, however still refuses to talk.
Friday, November 13, 2009
How about some Beta Carotene?
Auntie L: You know, LM, carrots are good for your eyes. They help you see!
LM: Carrots not good for mine mouth!
LM: Carrots not good for mine mouth!
Friday, November 06, 2009
Strange Happenings
Mom! Don't worry! Dat not a monster! Dat just a car driving by. It not a bad guy. Where dat car going?
Probably to the grocery store. I don't know where they're going baby.
Dey not toming a dwama's house?
Nope. They are not coming here.
Oh, Okay.
----------------------------------
Buster! Buster! Tum outside and pway wif me. It a nice day outside! Tum On! (the pitch going higher with every sentence) Tum ON! Tum on Buster!
Buster, it a nice day outside, Tum on! Don't be mad! Tum on! Tum on! Tickle Tickle Buster!! You tum outside wif me and you pway wif me.
-----------------------------------
Baby, Buster is old and probably needs a nap. Let him take a break and he'll come outside with you again in a little bit.
It IS a little bit! Buster need tum outside wif me and get da bad guy monters out of da yard.
------------------------------------
After all of that, he came inside, took off his pants.
Me tiwerd mommy. Me take off mine twothes, me get mine jammas on. Me need take a shower first though. Den me get in mine bed.
He proceeds to remove the REST of his clothing, go downstairs, find pajamas and pull-ups, put them on. If the child goes downstairs and crawls into bed and goes to sleep, I'm going to start praying, because surely it is a sign that the end of the world truly is near.
Probably to the grocery store. I don't know where they're going baby.
Dey not toming a dwama's house?
Nope. They are not coming here.
Oh, Okay.
----------------------------------
Buster! Buster! Tum outside and pway wif me. It a nice day outside! Tum On! (the pitch going higher with every sentence) Tum ON! Tum on Buster!
Buster, it a nice day outside, Tum on! Don't be mad! Tum on! Tum on! Tickle Tickle Buster!! You tum outside wif me and you pway wif me.
-----------------------------------
Baby, Buster is old and probably needs a nap. Let him take a break and he'll come outside with you again in a little bit.
It IS a little bit! Buster need tum outside wif me and get da bad guy monters out of da yard.
------------------------------------
After all of that, he came inside, took off his pants.
Me tiwerd mommy. Me take off mine twothes, me get mine jammas on. Me need take a shower first though. Den me get in mine bed.
He proceeds to remove the REST of his clothing, go downstairs, find pajamas and pull-ups, put them on. If the child goes downstairs and crawls into bed and goes to sleep, I'm going to start praying, because surely it is a sign that the end of the world truly is near.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Good Listening skills
Tonight, in order to celebrate Little Monster's birthday, we went to our favorite Chinese restaurant.
Little Monster was in rare form, arguing and demanding things.
I tried to remind him to turn on his listening ears. In the car, after some arguing about whether or not he was good enough to get his fortune cookie, I gave it to him.
"Mommy! MOOOOOOOM! HERE!" as he is shoving the paper into my hands.
It read "Your good listening skills will open many doors."
After spending a good forty minutes of:
"Little Monster, sit on your bottom. What do you say? What do you say? Use your manners. Turn around and sit down right. Please use your spoon. Use your spoon. Little Monster, remember your manners. Little MONSTER! EAT YOUR RICE. NO! Slow down. Don't slurp your lemonade like that!"
I couldn't help but laugh loudly and uncontrollably. Nearly to the point of tears.
When I showed the fortune to Not the Momma, his response was "MY BUTT!!"
and then we heard:
"Yeah, and my butt too!" come from the back seat.
Later that eventing at Target, we were discussing how he would be rewarded for his "good listening skills." I explained that he needed to turn on his listening ears. His response (which nearly toppled the old woman in front of us she laughed so hard) was:
"Mommy, mine wiss-ning ears bwokeen. Me need buy new ones!"
Maybe his new ones have the listening skills his fortune cookie spoke of?
Little Monster was in rare form, arguing and demanding things.
I tried to remind him to turn on his listening ears. In the car, after some arguing about whether or not he was good enough to get his fortune cookie, I gave it to him.
"Mommy! MOOOOOOOM! HERE!" as he is shoving the paper into my hands.
It read "Your good listening skills will open many doors."
After spending a good forty minutes of:
"Little Monster, sit on your bottom. What do you say? What do you say? Use your manners. Turn around and sit down right. Please use your spoon. Use your spoon. Little Monster, remember your manners. Little MONSTER! EAT YOUR RICE. NO! Slow down. Don't slurp your lemonade like that!"
I couldn't help but laugh loudly and uncontrollably. Nearly to the point of tears.
When I showed the fortune to Not the Momma, his response was "MY BUTT!!"
and then we heard:
"Yeah, and my butt too!" come from the back seat.
Later that eventing at Target, we were discussing how he would be rewarded for his "good listening skills." I explained that he needed to turn on his listening ears. His response (which nearly toppled the old woman in front of us she laughed so hard) was:
"Mommy, mine wiss-ning ears bwokeen. Me need buy new ones!"
Maybe his new ones have the listening skills his fortune cookie spoke of?
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Don't be confused if...
... you happen to see us, and my child bounces around yelling "Piss off." he's not really saying piss off. He's saying "BLAST OFF." We don't let our kids watch British shows where people have potty mouths. Or if when he says he's going to get "funky", he forgets about the "n" in the word. At least don't be as confused as I was, and think maybe it was time to lay the smack down in the house about what we're watching on TV, and what we're saying. And don't be surprised when Not the Momma laughs uncontrollably when he realizes why I'm upset and staring at Little Monster as he's repeatedly "blasting off" all over the living room.
...you drive through our neighborhood, which has completely lost power due to winds and rain, and you see my husband sitting on the couch enjoying television on his giant flat panel. Because, friends, that's what generators are for. And extension cords.
...you see me with a giant size 3 diaper wearing baby instead of the teeny (giant) newborn I just brought home. Who knew that babies grew up? Who knew they grew up this fast?
...that tiny newborn actually sits strapped into the grocery cart.
...you see Little Monster pedaling on his bicycle. It happens.
...you call me and you hear lots of yelling. It happens a lot. Especially because the phone only rings when Little Monster has managed to smear poop all over the bathroom, Butterball is crying because she's hungry and wet, and I'm trying to get ready to leave.
...I forget something. Children (even non-nursing ones) have a way of sucking the brain cells right out of their mother's heads until they can barely walk, let alone remember anything.
...you see me online a bit more. I got a new laptop and it is fancy! (That is the major reason for the lack of posting -- I had to get it all up and running!)
...I begin to whine about the cold again. I'm getting ready to go somewhere that is actually cold, instead of pretending to be cold like the area where we live now.
...the sun shines in Coastal Central California. It happens. It also rains here. And we get nasty winds. Once every "hundred years!" Even if it's happened three times in the two we've been here.
...This coming Saturday it rains, even though the weather is supposed to be nice. The only time the weather people are right around here is when they forecast a temperature range of 45 to 65, partly cloudy and a chance of fog, or if the storm of the century is coming.
...you drive through our neighborhood, which has completely lost power due to winds and rain, and you see my husband sitting on the couch enjoying television on his giant flat panel. Because, friends, that's what generators are for. And extension cords.
...you see me with a giant size 3 diaper wearing baby instead of the teeny (giant) newborn I just brought home. Who knew that babies grew up? Who knew they grew up this fast?
...that tiny newborn actually sits strapped into the grocery cart.
...you see Little Monster pedaling on his bicycle. It happens.
...you call me and you hear lots of yelling. It happens a lot. Especially because the phone only rings when Little Monster has managed to smear poop all over the bathroom, Butterball is crying because she's hungry and wet, and I'm trying to get ready to leave.
...I forget something. Children (even non-nursing ones) have a way of sucking the brain cells right out of their mother's heads until they can barely walk, let alone remember anything.
...you see me online a bit more. I got a new laptop and it is fancy! (That is the major reason for the lack of posting -- I had to get it all up and running!)
...I begin to whine about the cold again. I'm getting ready to go somewhere that is actually cold, instead of pretending to be cold like the area where we live now.
...the sun shines in Coastal Central California. It happens. It also rains here. And we get nasty winds. Once every "hundred years!" Even if it's happened three times in the two we've been here.
...This coming Saturday it rains, even though the weather is supposed to be nice. The only time the weather people are right around here is when they forecast a temperature range of 45 to 65, partly cloudy and a chance of fog, or if the storm of the century is coming.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Sometimes it takes a while...
... for the electricity to connect to that little light bulb that goes off. You know, the one that goes on when you finally come to a realization? Mine came on today.
Little Monster is pretty good, and in order to keep it that way, often I'llbribe reward him for his behavior. A common conversation in our house is something like this:
Mommy, I get tookie?
Yes, Little Monster, if you're good.
I AM good!
He is. Every child is good. Some children are just naughty. I don't like using the word "bad" because it is a personality description rather than a behavior description. So, I changed the way I phrase mybribesrewards to include the word behave. Then, we started having the following conversation:
Mommy, I get tookie?
Yes, Little Monster, if you behave.
Me AM have! See, it in mine pocket! (Then he pulls something pretend out of his pocket and shows me, waving whatever it is around like a card or a piece of paper.)
(Isn't that hilarious! His HAVE, pronounced with a long A, like CAVE is in his pocket!) It only took me two weeks, to realize he thought I was saying "be Have" not behave.
So then I got to wondering how else can I phrase mybribereward statements? I started asking him to "listen and follow directions." But that doesn't work well either. When he forgets, he reminds me that he wants to listen. So he wants to, but he forgets, or can't. What do you do with a kid like this? I mean, besides smother him with kisses and hugs and pretend to be "ZURG" when he insists that he is NOT, in fact, Little Monster but Buzz Lightyear instead.
Little Monster is pretty good, and in order to keep it that way, often I'll
Mommy, I get tookie?
Yes, Little Monster, if you're good.
I AM good!
He is. Every child is good. Some children are just naughty. I don't like using the word "bad" because it is a personality description rather than a behavior description. So, I changed the way I phrase my
Mommy, I get tookie?
Yes, Little Monster, if you behave.
Me AM have! See, it in mine pocket! (Then he pulls something pretend out of his pocket and shows me, waving whatever it is around like a card or a piece of paper.)
(Isn't that hilarious! His HAVE, pronounced with a long A, like CAVE is in his pocket!) It only took me two weeks, to realize he thought I was saying "be Have" not behave.
So then I got to wondering how else can I phrase my
Friday, October 02, 2009
The Potty Train
The trip was postponed, but it did happen. Little Monster got to ride the POTTY TRAIN!!! Really, it was a train up in the Santa Cruz Mountains. It was pretty.
I think he was so overwhelmed he didn't know how to react.
In the end, I think he had a good time.
I think he was so overwhelmed he didn't know how to react.
He is ready to give his ticket to the "maaaaan."
I have no idea what this is all about, other than I told him to smile. This is what I got.
Then the train whistle blew. It was a bit loud, and he was surprised by it.
In the end, I think he had a good time.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Oh, Brother.
Little Monster has positively got to be the best big brother in the entire world.
This morning I tried to catch up on some missed sleep. It didn't work entirely too well, but I don't miss the zzz's. I got to witness the sweetest thing ever.
Hi butterball. me wight here. Mommy, she waffing at me. Butterball. me hold yours hand. one two fwee four five. fwee four five turtles on yours jammas. tickle tickle, butterball. hee hee hee, you tickle me! ha ha.. You got mine shirt! ha ha!! (butterball giggles) Butterball waffing mommy! Butterball, you sweet. I wuv you. I wuv you too. Wook butterball. here yours wegs. you wook at yours body? at yours belly? ha ha. wook at yours turtles jammies. me here butterball. hi! hi! yours brudder wight here. You want pway wif baby toys? Me share wif you. Me got you. me got you. (gives her a hug) i wuv you too butterball.
For about thirty minutes, Little Monster, without prompting, played cooed and laughed with his sister. It was some of the best non-sleep I've ever gotten.
This morning I tried to catch up on some missed sleep. It didn't work entirely too well, but I don't miss the zzz's. I got to witness the sweetest thing ever.
Hi butterball. me wight here. Mommy, she waffing at me. Butterball. me hold yours hand. one two fwee four five. fwee four five turtles on yours jammas. tickle tickle, butterball. hee hee hee, you tickle me! ha ha.. You got mine shirt! ha ha!! (butterball giggles) Butterball waffing mommy! Butterball, you sweet. I wuv you. I wuv you too. Wook butterball. here yours wegs. you wook at yours body? at yours belly? ha ha. wook at yours turtles jammies. me here butterball. hi! hi! yours brudder wight here. You want pway wif baby toys? Me share wif you. Me got you. me got you. (gives her a hug) i wuv you too butterball.
For about thirty minutes, Little Monster, without prompting, played cooed and laughed with his sister. It was some of the best non-sleep I've ever gotten.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Make Me Laugh
Things Little Monster has done that have nearly brought me to tears:
Daddy "Go bug Mommy."
LM "No. I bug Daddy."
Mommy "Okay, it's time to say our prayers."
LM (loud breathing like Darth Vader) "Luke, I am your Father. Amen."
While eating out at a restaurant, Little Monster was misbehaving. Daddy told him to behave and stared him down. Little Monster's response was to open his eyes wide and stare back.
We told him we were going to visit our friends G & J last Thursday. He asked once per hour for the next four days if we were going to visit G & J.
Dad: Let's go to twore. Me want go to target. me get stickers, OOOOKAAAAAY?
LM: No daddy. go in my car.
Dad: okay let's go.
LM: NO WAY! door slam
LM (to mommy) mommy. Daddy and popcorn and movie and night-night and green bike. no bye-bye.
Daddy "Go bug Mommy."
LM "No. I bug Daddy."
Mommy "Okay, it's time to say our prayers."
LM (loud breathing like Darth Vader) "Luke, I am your Father. Amen."
While eating out at a restaurant, Little Monster was misbehaving. Daddy told him to behave and stared him down. Little Monster's response was to open his eyes wide and stare back.
We told him we were going to visit our friends G & J last Thursday. He asked once per hour for the next four days if we were going to visit G & J.
Dad: Let's go to twore. Me want go to target. me get stickers, OOOOKAAAAAY?
LM: No daddy. go in my car.
Dad: okay let's go.
LM: NO WAY! door slam
LM (to mommy) mommy. Daddy and popcorn and movie and night-night and green bike. no bye-bye.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Music Mania
Little Monster has all of a sudden taken to actually listening to what's on the radio in the car while we drive.
I didn't think it was such a big deal. I love it when we're listening to Derks Bently and the kid starts belting out "sideways! hey! hey!" or if we're listening to Christian music, it's fine for him to sing along.
The problem comes in when I listen to my Lithium station (Alternative rock from the 90s) or when Daddy listens to his rock station (Octane).
On regular radio they blurp out the bad words. On satellite radio, not so much. And although it is hilarious to hear a 2 year old sing the lyrics to the George Michael song "Faith," I was unaware that the Limp Bizkit version took an already X-rated song to a new level.
It isn't so funny when he starts singing along to the limp bizkit version. I am very grateful that to Little Monster, they were just 'sounds' as opposed to telling someone to be quiet in a very rude way. No matter what, I still love hearing that kid sing "brass monkey."
I didn't think it was such a big deal. I love it when we're listening to Derks Bently and the kid starts belting out "sideways! hey! hey!" or if we're listening to Christian music, it's fine for him to sing along.
The problem comes in when I listen to my Lithium station (Alternative rock from the 90s) or when Daddy listens to his rock station (Octane).
On regular radio they blurp out the bad words. On satellite radio, not so much. And although it is hilarious to hear a 2 year old sing the lyrics to the George Michael song "Faith," I was unaware that the Limp Bizkit version took an already X-rated song to a new level.
It isn't so funny when he starts singing along to the limp bizkit version. I am very grateful that to Little Monster, they were just 'sounds' as opposed to telling someone to be quiet in a very rude way. No matter what, I still love hearing that kid sing "brass monkey."
Friday, September 25, 2009
More Monster Talk
I'm sure you're all going to get tired of these little anecdotes. But I think they're hilarious. I've started carrying a notebook around with me to record all of the silly things that he says. And let's face is. This is my blog, in essence, my memoirs. And these are the things that I want to remember.
Trying to get Butterball to talk:
NTM: Da Da
Me: Ma Ma
NTM: DA da da da da da da
Me: Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma
Little Monster: Little Monster, Little Monster, Little Monster, Little Monster, Little Monster.
(of course he was using his name, but still, it was hilarious.)
Trying to get Butterball to talk:
NTM: Da Da
Me: Ma Ma
NTM: DA da da da da da da
Me: Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma
Little Monster: Little Monster, Little Monster, Little Monster, Little Monster, Little Monster.
(of course he was using his name, but still, it was hilarious.)
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Monster Talk
Where is da mommy store?
I don't know. Why do you want to go to the mommy store. Do you need a new one?
Yes. Mine udder one is bwokeen.
On a Saturday Morning drive along the beach:
We stop and pway on wocks? Tweeeeeeeeeeeese Daddy! Me want wook at da fishies. Dey my FAAAAAAAAVOWIT!
Not the Momma and I were laughing and having a discussion in the front of the car.
Top Woud talking! SHHH!! Butterball sweeping!!
I don't know. Why do you want to go to the mommy store. Do you need a new one?
Yes. Mine udder one is bwokeen.
On a Saturday Morning drive along the beach:
We stop and pway on wocks? Tweeeeeeeeeeeese Daddy! Me want wook at da fishies. Dey my FAAAAAAAAVOWIT!
Not the Momma and I were laughing and having a discussion in the front of the car.
Top Woud talking! SHHH!! Butterball sweeping!!
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