Easter Sunday was a busy day this year. We started the day by digging into the Biscuit's Easter basket full of candy and toys. I knew it wasn't a great idea to let him have a little crunchy chocolate bunny before church, but how could I refuse it when I had just given it to him in his basket? So he ate the bunny.
Then we got dressed up and headed off to Easter Mass. Church started a little bit later than usual and ran a little bit longer than usual, but the Biscuit was faring very well (his new dinosaur coloring book was a big help with that).
After church, we headed over to the Biscuit's Starenka (that's Grandma) and Grandpa's for Easter lunch. As lunch drew to a close, the Biscuit learned that the Easter Bunny had also visited his Starenka's house and had left him another basket and some other gifts (one of which was a toddler-sized Thomas the Tank Engine bed... maybe a story for another post). In addition to the gifts in the basket and the bed, the Easter Bunny also left the Biscuit a 12-inch, solid chocolate bunny. The Biscuit was enamored instantly.
Being the silly mommy that I am, I decided that this was the right time to take Easter pictures. Please remember that my almost 3-year old had been up all morning, sat through church, lunch, and had just gotten chocolate and toys... pictures were the last thing he wanted to do. Somehow, though, the Biscuit's Starenka managed to convince him to go outside and take some (pretty terrible) Easter pictures.
It was now almost 1:00 pm and the Biscuit was cranky and well beyond nap time so the Biscuit and I packed up the car so we could head home. The Biscuit was given a small taste of his huge chocolate Easter Bunny (the left ear to be exact) and the rest of the bunny was put in a baggie to save for later. The Biscuit insisted on carrying the bunny in the bag along with his companion monkey lovie (that he calls Ou Ah, as in "ou ou ah ah" sound a monkey makes) and an M&M man. I put him in his car seat, started down the road, and within about 2 minutes, he was out like a light (holding tight to his chocolate possessions).
When we got home, the Biscuit was still fast asleep. I carried him into his bedroom and put him down for a nap. The Biscuit peeped his eyes open for a minute, spoke a weak "I'm tired," closed his eyes, and put his head back on my shoulder. I left his room and then went to change clothes when I heard some rustling in the kitchen.
I walked into the kitchen where I was surprised to see the Biscuit (whose back was to me) putting something in the trash can under the sink. I said to him, "What are you doing?"
"I had some trash from the bunny." he replied. I went over to the trash and saw that he had put a small (and I mean small) piece of chocolate bunny in the trash.
"Where's the Bunny?" I asked the Biscuit.
He smiled sheepishly and said, "He's in my mouth."
I walked briskly to the Biscuit's room expecting to find a mess of chocolate everywhere, but there was none to be found. All that I saw was an empty baggie in the middle of his bed.
I had been duped. The Biscuit had it all planned the moment he got in the car seat. That bunny didn't stand a chance... 12-inches of solid chocolate, gulped down in 5 minutes.
Thanks Easter Bunny! (bock bock)
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Like Fingernails on a Chalkboard
I am NOT a morning person. I am fully capable of sleeping in until 3:00 pm if left undisturbed. There is absolutely nothing finer in life to me than to sleep in on a Saturday until I just can't take it anymore and force myself to roll out of bed. I have not, however, slept in on a Saturday morning for the last 3 years (coincidentally, since the Biscuit was born).
Now, when I decided to have a baby, this was one of the things I knew I would give up, and I was glad to do it. I didn't realize how much I would truly miss it though. And, honestly, I think I am not as nice of a person as I used to be because of it.
And so our story begins at 6:30 AM on a Saturday morning...
"Maaa-om!" says the Biscuit lovingly.
"Whaa-aaat?" I reply.
"Mom. My car won't fit under here," he says.
"Sorry," I reply.
6:31 AM that same Saturday morning...
"Maaaa-om!" he shouts again.
"Yes, love" I say, though my patience is beginning to wear thin.
"Mom. Did you move my candy?" the Biscuit asks as if this is an important question for this early in the morning.
"No, love. I didn't move your candy. You ate it." I respond.
"My sweet-tar-tarts?" he stammers.
"Yes, love. You ate your sweetarts last night. Let's not talk for a little while, okay?" I beg.
6:32 again, the same Saturday morning...
"Maaaa-ooom. Did you touch my cars." the Biscuit asks.
"Biscuit. Mommy doesn't want to talk anymore this morning." I demand.
"But Maaaaaa-om!" he screams.
"Yes, I'm coming." I say.
Arrrrrggg.
Now, when I decided to have a baby, this was one of the things I knew I would give up, and I was glad to do it. I didn't realize how much I would truly miss it though. And, honestly, I think I am not as nice of a person as I used to be because of it.
And so our story begins at 6:30 AM on a Saturday morning...
"Maaa-om!" says the Biscuit lovingly.
"Whaa-aaat?" I reply.
"Mom. My car won't fit under here," he says.
"Sorry," I reply.
6:31 AM that same Saturday morning...
"Maaaa-om!" he shouts again.
"Yes, love" I say, though my patience is beginning to wear thin.
"Mom. Did you move my candy?" the Biscuit asks as if this is an important question for this early in the morning.
"No, love. I didn't move your candy. You ate it." I respond.
"My sweet-tar-tarts?" he stammers.
"Yes, love. You ate your sweetarts last night. Let's not talk for a little while, okay?" I beg.
6:32 again, the same Saturday morning...
"Maaaa-ooom. Did you touch my cars." the Biscuit asks.
"Biscuit. Mommy doesn't want to talk anymore this morning." I demand.
"But Maaaaaa-om!" he screams.
"Yes, I'm coming." I say.
Arrrrrggg.
Beans and Tantrums
The Biscuit is, for the most part, a very well-behaved 2-year old. He's very laid back and doesn't often have tantrums. When he does have a tantrum, it is a marathon event.
Last week, we were winding down the evening. The Biscuit already had his bath and his teeth brushing and we were just about to turn the TV off to head to the bedroom for story time (folks, please spare me any comments about how bad TV is before bedtime) when the Biscuit began to protest.
As usual, when I am challenged by the Biscuit, I gave him 2 options: either you turn the TV off or I will. The Biscuit stood in front of the TV blocking the controls like the little defensive tackle that he one day may be. I, being much bigger than my 40-lb toddler, leaned over him and turned the TV off. He wailed.
Then he reached around, turned the TV back on, and looked at me with a smirk. Game on, buddy... Game on.
I again gave him a choice: either turn the TV off and walk to your room for story time or I will turn it off and carry you like a baby into your room. He stood there, motionless, glaring at me as I counted 1... 2... 3... So, with all of my motherly superpowers in tow, I leaned over him once again, turned off the TV, and whisked the Biscuit down the hall into his bedroom before he even knew what had happened.
At "wheels down" the Biscuit let out a scream, which turned into a garbled ranting of things he was upset about in toddler-lingua with the occasional breath followed by unending sobbing. As the tantrum progressed, he began to beat on the door to his bedroom, which I strategically blocked from opening.
Next, he fell to his knees (not quite to full-blown, hand-and-foot kicking phase) and started shaking his hands uncontrollably. Oh, poor fella, I thought. He looked miserable. The Biscuit is so unused to this full feeling of emotion that his little hands show the inability to calm himself as he shakes them, while he looks at them wondering why they're shaking.
I try everything in the book from a consoling pat on the back, soothing voice, arms outstretched to comfort my little one's out of control fit. He's not having any of it. He continues to beat his hand on the floor and on the wall and door and screams at the top of his lungs. And then, out of nowhere, the Biscuit lifts his body up as he sits on his knees, and silence...
and then, he poots (passes gas, farts) once, silence for a moment, and he poots again. We look at each other and start to laugh at the same time. Tantrum over.
So, I guess the lesson learned is that if your toddler is having lots of tantrums, perhaps adding some beans and extra fiber to his diet will help end the tantrums a bit sooner.
P.S. When I was prego with the Biscuit (and before I knew he was a boy), I wished and wished for a little girl who I could dress in frilly clothes, paint fingernails, and play Barbies with. Instead, I got a smelly, dirty, tackling, mud puddle finding, gas-passing little fella... and I am forever grateful and blessed for my little boy.
Last week, we were winding down the evening. The Biscuit already had his bath and his teeth brushing and we were just about to turn the TV off to head to the bedroom for story time (folks, please spare me any comments about how bad TV is before bedtime) when the Biscuit began to protest.
As usual, when I am challenged by the Biscuit, I gave him 2 options: either you turn the TV off or I will. The Biscuit stood in front of the TV blocking the controls like the little defensive tackle that he one day may be. I, being much bigger than my 40-lb toddler, leaned over him and turned the TV off. He wailed.
Then he reached around, turned the TV back on, and looked at me with a smirk. Game on, buddy... Game on.
I again gave him a choice: either turn the TV off and walk to your room for story time or I will turn it off and carry you like a baby into your room. He stood there, motionless, glaring at me as I counted 1... 2... 3... So, with all of my motherly superpowers in tow, I leaned over him once again, turned off the TV, and whisked the Biscuit down the hall into his bedroom before he even knew what had happened.
At "wheels down" the Biscuit let out a scream, which turned into a garbled ranting of things he was upset about in toddler-lingua with the occasional breath followed by unending sobbing. As the tantrum progressed, he began to beat on the door to his bedroom, which I strategically blocked from opening.
Next, he fell to his knees (not quite to full-blown, hand-and-foot kicking phase) and started shaking his hands uncontrollably. Oh, poor fella, I thought. He looked miserable. The Biscuit is so unused to this full feeling of emotion that his little hands show the inability to calm himself as he shakes them, while he looks at them wondering why they're shaking.
I try everything in the book from a consoling pat on the back, soothing voice, arms outstretched to comfort my little one's out of control fit. He's not having any of it. He continues to beat his hand on the floor and on the wall and door and screams at the top of his lungs. And then, out of nowhere, the Biscuit lifts his body up as he sits on his knees, and silence...
and then, he poots (passes gas, farts) once, silence for a moment, and he poots again. We look at each other and start to laugh at the same time. Tantrum over.
So, I guess the lesson learned is that if your toddler is having lots of tantrums, perhaps adding some beans and extra fiber to his diet will help end the tantrums a bit sooner.
P.S. When I was prego with the Biscuit (and before I knew he was a boy), I wished and wished for a little girl who I could dress in frilly clothes, paint fingernails, and play Barbies with. Instead, I got a smelly, dirty, tackling, mud puddle finding, gas-passing little fella... and I am forever grateful and blessed for my little boy.
May I Have Your Attention Pees
No doubt, you are all on pins and needles anxiously awaiting an update on the madness that I had been living in (and brought you all into) following last week's post. No doubt.
Well folks, I am pleased to say that I managed to get the Biscuit's nighttime routine back into a pattern of normalcy. Okay. To be honest, that's a lie... a terrible, terrible lie. Truth is, the terrible 2s have hit home hard in Biscuitville and I am almost out of methods and tricks to try to tame this child of mine.
I did make some quick decisions to attempt to get the random acts of spiteful peeing under control. First, I removed the Biscuit's new big boy bed from his room (leaving only his crib, with the rail removed). Second, I removed the Biscuit's nightlight from the room. I didn't initially plan on removing the light, but his repeated attempts to play with the light instead of going to sleep forced my hand on the issue (as it presented a danger).
As if by magic, out of the darkness came some peace. These removals did help reduce the 2-hour nightly drama (with at least 3 sheet changes and countless trips to the potty) down to 15 minutes and 1 sheet change. The 1 remaining sheet change is still his effort to maintain control in this relationship, and he's still peeing out of pure spite. Need more?
On Tuesday of this week, everything within a 30-mile radius of where we live shut down due to ice and snow (maybe 3 inches). It's ridiculous, I know, but it's how things go in the South where the roads are not constructed to minimize ice and snow effects and where cities don't have adequate equipment to clear and prevent the effects of the snow and ice (not to mention folks just don't know how to drive in the weather). So, the Biscuit's daycare was closed for the day, which meant he had an extra day at home with mommy.
I, of course, had to take the day off from work (where I could normally just work from home in spite of the weather) but since the Biscuit was here, there was no way I could responsibly work AND supervise a 2-year old. Case in point...
While I did officially take the day off, there was an important conference call that I needed to attend. I let my boss know I was taking a vaca day, but that I was calling in (in 'listen-only' mode so my teammates wouldn't have to listen to a screaming toddler). Towards the end of the call I needed to offer some comments, so I left the Biscuit in the den to watch Cars on TV and walked into another room to give a 5-minute update on the call. The Biscuit was not pleased to lose mommy's full attention.
When I returned to the den, the Underpants Gnomes had shown up (in the middle of the day no less!) and stolen his undies and pants. The Biscuit stood on my couch in all of his glory and, as I entered the room, his smile changed to a smirk.
Time slowed for a moment as I leaped toward him yelling, "Nooooooooo." but I was too late. The Biscuit proceeded to pee all over the couch... just to spite me; just to get my attention. Ugggggh!
Well, Biscuit, you certainly got it. I may wear the pants in this family (and how I wish HE would wear his pants) but you certainly are winning the war for now. I can only hope that I figure out a new strategy to help me prevail in the end.
Well folks, I am pleased to say that I managed to get the Biscuit's nighttime routine back into a pattern of normalcy. Okay. To be honest, that's a lie... a terrible, terrible lie. Truth is, the terrible 2s have hit home hard in Biscuitville and I am almost out of methods and tricks to try to tame this child of mine.
I did make some quick decisions to attempt to get the random acts of spiteful peeing under control. First, I removed the Biscuit's new big boy bed from his room (leaving only his crib, with the rail removed). Second, I removed the Biscuit's nightlight from the room. I didn't initially plan on removing the light, but his repeated attempts to play with the light instead of going to sleep forced my hand on the issue (as it presented a danger).
As if by magic, out of the darkness came some peace. These removals did help reduce the 2-hour nightly drama (with at least 3 sheet changes and countless trips to the potty) down to 15 minutes and 1 sheet change. The 1 remaining sheet change is still his effort to maintain control in this relationship, and he's still peeing out of pure spite. Need more?
On Tuesday of this week, everything within a 30-mile radius of where we live shut down due to ice and snow (maybe 3 inches). It's ridiculous, I know, but it's how things go in the South where the roads are not constructed to minimize ice and snow effects and where cities don't have adequate equipment to clear and prevent the effects of the snow and ice (not to mention folks just don't know how to drive in the weather). So, the Biscuit's daycare was closed for the day, which meant he had an extra day at home with mommy.
I, of course, had to take the day off from work (where I could normally just work from home in spite of the weather) but since the Biscuit was here, there was no way I could responsibly work AND supervise a 2-year old. Case in point...
While I did officially take the day off, there was an important conference call that I needed to attend. I let my boss know I was taking a vaca day, but that I was calling in (in 'listen-only' mode so my teammates wouldn't have to listen to a screaming toddler). Towards the end of the call I needed to offer some comments, so I left the Biscuit in the den to watch Cars on TV and walked into another room to give a 5-minute update on the call. The Biscuit was not pleased to lose mommy's full attention.
When I returned to the den, the Underpants Gnomes had shown up (in the middle of the day no less!) and stolen his undies and pants. The Biscuit stood on my couch in all of his glory and, as I entered the room, his smile changed to a smirk.
Time slowed for a moment as I leaped toward him yelling, "Nooooooooo." but I was too late. The Biscuit proceeded to pee all over the couch... just to spite me; just to get my attention. Ugggggh!
Well, Biscuit, you certainly got it. I may wear the pants in this family (and how I wish HE would wear his pants) but you certainly are winning the war for now. I can only hope that I figure out a new strategy to help me prevail in the end.
The Many Types of Coughs
10:45 last night. I was semi-awake on the couch with the Biscuit's baby monitor sitting on the floor beside me when I heard the sound no mother wants to hear: 1 quick, dry cough followed by another quick, dry cough.
I awakened from my sleepy state, grabbed 2 clean towels from the linen closet, and headed into the Biscuit's bedroom to confirm my suspicions. As I suspected, I was in for another one of "those" nights.
Flu season is in full-swing my friends and I have been a bad, bad mommy.
While I did finally manage to get my own flu shot this week, I had been unsuccessful at getting one for the Biscuit over the past month. Each time I planned for it, he ended up with a cold or a fever (rendering a vaccination attempt idiotic).
Back to the coughing...
As most of you mommies and daddies who've been through a night with a puking infant or toddler know, there are many different types of coughs that we listen for over our baby monitors. Much like the different cries of a baby (with meanings of hunger, pain, and fussiness), there are also basic cough sounds. Let me describe:
- The wet cough = congestion that traditionally goes along with a cold or upper respiratory infection
- The standard cough = general throat clearing associated with allergies or randoms in the throat
- The quick, dry cough (hack) = in isolation, may be associated with allergies or something going down the wrong way, gagging, etc.
- The quick, dry cough = repeated more than once, almost always indicates puking
So, I have my standard response to puking, something I guess you just figure out the first time it hits (no one EVER prepared me for what to do if your child is hurling in the middle of the night thank you very much Dr. Spock), but, I thought I'd share my little tricks to help you keep your child as comfy as possible, while protecting your floors and clothing.
As I mentioned, I enter the room with 2 bath towels. I lay both across the floor horizontally in front of the crib/bed. The towel closest to the crib should be placed just slightly under the bed (to catch future overflows that certainly will come later in the night). This serves as the resting/move-to location for the puker and the staging area for later puke sessions. I immediately place the Biscuit on the towels so he is out of the primary puke zone/spill so I can strip the bed and bundle the mess-including all impacted lovies- to be laundered. I then quickly remake the bed (with another mattress protector).
Next, I strip the Biscuit of the dirtied clothes and put fresh ones on. If I had the sense to grab a wet washcloth on the way, he's all the better for it. Else, I leave him on the towels while I run the batch of ewww ikkiness to the laundry and grab a washcloth on the way back. If you're lucky, you have a significant other to get the laundry washed (b/c you will probably need that other mattress cover later). I also have several backup lovies-the Biscuit has 1 favorite monkey named Oou Ahh-so I grab a fresh one from the secret hiding place.
Returning to the Biscuit, I cuddle and rock him back to sleep (giving ibuprofen if he has a fever and applying all of my typical fever techniques). For a stomach virus, I usually spend 20-30 minutes holding him during this first session waiting for that cough to come again. When it does, I quickly move us from the rocking chair to the towels (where I often have a plastic bowl or something for him to puke into) so we can isolate the mess to this area. I try to keep it on 1 towel so I can just pick that up after he finishes getting sick and grab a new one on the way back to the laundry.
Rinse and repeat. The time between is usually consistent for the first 3 pukes, but then gets longer until he's stopped. We've been through it so much, it's like clockwork now when it happens, but I was absolutely terrified the first time (and it didn't seem fair to call my own mother at 2 AM, though she surely wouldn't have been upset).
Well, here's hoping you are all smarter than me and got your little kiddies all flu vaccined-up this year. If not, hope I help you out a bit with post-puke cleanup duty.
What The Biscuit is Thankful For?
With the Biscuit's Starenka recovering from her recent head injury, I had the honor of hosting Thanksgiving dinner at my house this year. It was a great way to get the holiday season kicked off. The tree was up and lit, the house was clean (sort of), and the air was thick with the smells of rosemary, thyme, and cherry pie.
As we all started digging in to all of the wonderful food, I thought I'd find out what the Biscuit was thankful for this year. (I knew that he had been learning about being thankful at school over the past week so the idea wasn't too grand for a 2 1/2-year old I thought). So I asked him, "Biscuit, what are you thankful for this year?" The Biscuit looked at me confused (perhaps they hadn't exactly gotten through to him on what thankful means at school after all). I asked again.
This time the Biscuit answered: "Mirrors Mommy!" I looked back at the Biscuit, shock and awe beginning to set in. "You're thankful for mirrors, Biscuit?" "Yeah, Maminka." he said.
Uh, oh. Had I really raised a 2 1/2-year old who was completely vain? Surely not. So I thought about it for a moment and then remembered that the Biscuit loves for me to hold him up in the mirror. It makes him smile so big, he often asks me to take him to the mirror.
He's not being vain, he just likes to "see" that moment in time. I guess toddlers don't quite grasp the concept of photographs that can be used to capture the moment. For the Biscuit, his trips to the mirror are times for him to get to see how happy he is.
I think maybe we all could learn from the Biscuit. I know I have happy days and not so happy days, and I am grateful to have both. In those happy moments, it would be nice to step outside and look in on me and see the love and delight... to look in the mirror for a moment. As young as they are, sometimes they are the brightest of us all. Thanks Biscuit.
As we all started digging in to all of the wonderful food, I thought I'd find out what the Biscuit was thankful for this year. (I knew that he had been learning about being thankful at school over the past week so the idea wasn't too grand for a 2 1/2-year old I thought). So I asked him, "Biscuit, what are you thankful for this year?" The Biscuit looked at me confused (perhaps they hadn't exactly gotten through to him on what thankful means at school after all). I asked again.
This time the Biscuit answered: "Mirrors Mommy!" I looked back at the Biscuit, shock and awe beginning to set in. "You're thankful for mirrors, Biscuit?" "Yeah, Maminka." he said.
Uh, oh. Had I really raised a 2 1/2-year old who was completely vain? Surely not. So I thought about it for a moment and then remembered that the Biscuit loves for me to hold him up in the mirror. It makes him smile so big, he often asks me to take him to the mirror.He's not being vain, he just likes to "see" that moment in time. I guess toddlers don't quite grasp the concept of photographs that can be used to capture the moment. For the Biscuit, his trips to the mirror are times for him to get to see how happy he is.
I think maybe we all could learn from the Biscuit. I know I have happy days and not so happy days, and I am grateful to have both. In those happy moments, it would be nice to step outside and look in on me and see the love and delight... to look in the mirror for a moment. As young as they are, sometimes they are the brightest of us all. Thanks Biscuit.
Did a Little Jacket Scare You?
He takes a huge gulp from his glass, knocks it back, and exhales with an "Ahhhhhhh. This is the life." These are not words I expected to hear from my 2 1/2 year old following dinner tonight as he drains his sippy cup of milk. As always, the Biscuit amazes me with his mature verbal skills and continues to make his linguist momma proud.
He's growing up so fast, yet he's still my little baby. I don't know if it's the scarecrows, pumpkins, ghouls, and general spookiness in the air that let us know Halloween is fast approaching or if it's just that time in a toddler's developmental stage, but lately my ever-mature Biscuit has regressed back a bit to his earlier days of fear of the unknown. Surely you all remember my post about the scary doorstop in Moving to a New House 3 when the Biscuit learned the phrase "scared you." Now the Biscuit's fears have moved from doorstops to bulky jackets.
The Biscuit's Starenka picked up a winter jacket for him a couple of weeks ago (we love Starenka who's always picking up stuff). I finally washed the jacket and hung it on the doorknob of a closet door that's in the hallway on the way to the Biscuit's bedroom. When the Biscuit walked out of his bedroom one morning, he saw the shape of the bulky jacket hanging on the doorknob. He quickly moved to the far side of the hallway and demanded my hand as we walked down the hall together.
I realized that it did look a bit like a little boy standing in the shadows of the hallway, so I put the jacket away in the closet. The Biscuit, brilliant boy, was not fooled. He knew the jacket was still in the closet (and hence the scary thing is still there). His fears progressed each morning. When he woke up this morning, his first words to me were "Jacket scare you?" This was his way of asking if I had been scared to walk down the hallway by myself to get him. This morning he wouldn't walk by himself holding my hand, instead he demanded that I carry him down the hallway past the closet.
So folks, help. How can mommy rid the house of the demon jacket fears? It's about 9 hours until tomorrow morning's monster jacket defense lesson. Though I traditionally do quite well under pressure, I just don't have a plan for this particular attack. Time for monster spray perhaps.
Oh, the joys of motherhood! What simple pleasures and tribulations we get to face as we teach our little ones life-changing skills... like bravery and courage. It's truly amazing to me to step back for a moment and recognize the true impact that I will have with how I choose to address this comical and deceptively minor situation.
On that note, I'll drink in a deep breath of courage of my own. Ahhhh, Biscuit... This is the life.
He's growing up so fast, yet he's still my little baby. I don't know if it's the scarecrows, pumpkins, ghouls, and general spookiness in the air that let us know Halloween is fast approaching or if it's just that time in a toddler's developmental stage, but lately my ever-mature Biscuit has regressed back a bit to his earlier days of fear of the unknown. Surely you all remember my post about the scary doorstop in Moving to a New House 3 when the Biscuit learned the phrase "scared you." Now the Biscuit's fears have moved from doorstops to bulky jackets.
The Biscuit's Starenka picked up a winter jacket for him a couple of weeks ago (we love Starenka who's always picking up stuff). I finally washed the jacket and hung it on the doorknob of a closet door that's in the hallway on the way to the Biscuit's bedroom. When the Biscuit walked out of his bedroom one morning, he saw the shape of the bulky jacket hanging on the doorknob. He quickly moved to the far side of the hallway and demanded my hand as we walked down the hall together.
I realized that it did look a bit like a little boy standing in the shadows of the hallway, so I put the jacket away in the closet. The Biscuit, brilliant boy, was not fooled. He knew the jacket was still in the closet (and hence the scary thing is still there). His fears progressed each morning. When he woke up this morning, his first words to me were "Jacket scare you?" This was his way of asking if I had been scared to walk down the hallway by myself to get him. This morning he wouldn't walk by himself holding my hand, instead he demanded that I carry him down the hallway past the closet.
So folks, help. How can mommy rid the house of the demon jacket fears? It's about 9 hours until tomorrow morning's monster jacket defense lesson. Though I traditionally do quite well under pressure, I just don't have a plan for this particular attack. Time for monster spray perhaps.
Oh, the joys of motherhood! What simple pleasures and tribulations we get to face as we teach our little ones life-changing skills... like bravery and courage. It's truly amazing to me to step back for a moment and recognize the true impact that I will have with how I choose to address this comical and deceptively minor situation.
On that note, I'll drink in a deep breath of courage of my own. Ahhhh, Biscuit... This is the life.
Snoopy, Doggy Dogg
Another successful night, or so I think.
I put the Biscuit to bed on time (dinner, bath, read 2 books, bed), turn off the light in his room with a 1...2...3... "light's out Biscuit" - "night, night" - "love you" - "see you in the morning."
I steal off to the den to enjoy some time to myself, my mommy duties done for the evening. I turn the baby monitor on (yes, the Biscuit's 2+, but for some reason I continue to listen in on the monitor just in case he throws up or something) only to hear the sound of silence (ode to Simon & Garfunkel). Ahhhhh, "Sweet." I say to myself: He's out. 30 minutes later, it begins. What begins? you ask. Have a listen to the music behind this link on YouTube and you'll begin to hear my night's torment.
You see, last Christmas, one of the Biscuit's beloved Aunts gave him the cutest Snoopy plush animal. It was love at first sight for the Biscuit. When you press Snoopy's hand, Snoopy not only plays the Peanuts theme song, he also lights up and blinks Christmas tree-like lights on his shirt. The Biscuit decided that Snoopy just wasn't the right name for the treasure. Instead, he called him Doggy Dogg.
Doggy Dogg is currently 1 of 9 friends (in order of importance: Ooh Ahh, Meow, Doggy Dogg, Pooh, Mr. Pug, Max--yes, that's Max the bunny of Max & Ruby, Zebra, Bear, and Froggy-the newest addition) who move about the house wherever the Biscuit goes and they all (naturally) sleep in the Biscuit's bed with him every night. The Biscuit loves to hear Doggy Dogg and, I can only imagine how "cool" the lights must look in the dimly lit room.
Doggy Dogg plays for exactly 10 seconds with each press. The Biscuit continued to press the button until he fell asleep... 11 minutes. 66 times!!! Thankfully, the Sound of Silence came back to me eventually.
But you all know how you hear a song and it gets stuck in your head all day long? Let's just say I had some weird dreams last night.
I steal off to the den to enjoy some time to myself, my mommy duties done for the evening. I turn the baby monitor on (yes, the Biscuit's 2+, but for some reason I continue to listen in on the monitor just in case he throws up or something) only to hear the sound of silence (ode to Simon & Garfunkel). Ahhhhh, "Sweet." I say to myself: He's out. 30 minutes later, it begins. What begins? you ask. Have a listen to the music behind this link on YouTube and you'll begin to hear my night's torment.
You see, last Christmas, one of the Biscuit's beloved Aunts gave him the cutest Snoopy plush animal. It was love at first sight for the Biscuit. When you press Snoopy's hand, Snoopy not only plays the Peanuts theme song, he also lights up and blinks Christmas tree-like lights on his shirt. The Biscuit decided that Snoopy just wasn't the right name for the treasure. Instead, he called him Doggy Dogg.
Doggy Dogg is currently 1 of 9 friends (in order of importance: Ooh Ahh, Meow, Doggy Dogg, Pooh, Mr. Pug, Max--yes, that's Max the bunny of Max & Ruby, Zebra, Bear, and Froggy-the newest addition) who move about the house wherever the Biscuit goes and they all (naturally) sleep in the Biscuit's bed with him every night. The Biscuit loves to hear Doggy Dogg and, I can only imagine how "cool" the lights must look in the dimly lit room.
Doggy Dogg plays for exactly 10 seconds with each press. The Biscuit continued to press the button until he fell asleep... 11 minutes. 66 times!!! Thankfully, the Sound of Silence came back to me eventually.
But you all know how you hear a song and it gets stuck in your head all day long? Let's just say I had some weird dreams last night.
Feet First
The Biscuit has fat feet. Bless his heart, he inherited his grandpa's wide feet (grandpa is a EEE) and it makes shoe shopping quite miserable. Where some toddlers may be blessed with a plethora of shoes to choose from each day, the Biscuit has 2 pairs: New Balance tennis shoes and black Crocs (well, you all know me, ain't no way I'm paying $30 for Crocs... the Biscuit has "Krocs").
We are always on the lookout for new XX (extra wide) shoes for the Biscuit. I have my eBay alerts running constantly, but these rare gems don't pop up often. The Biscuit's Starenka (grandma) has aided me in my search for months. She hit the jackpot 1 Saturday and uncovered a Stride Rite outlet at a nearby mall and picked up a cute pair of brown, suede tennis shoes for the Biscuit in the next size.
Now, I know what you're thinking... Stride Rite? Those aren't cheap. No, they aren't, but I can't walk into Wal-Mart and pick up a pair of shoes either, so I have to buy what fits and Stride Rite is excellent and has so many choices in XX size. The pair ran around $20 at the outlet store, which is not as bad as some of their shoes (at $40-$50 on average).
As cute and practical as these new shoes were, the Biscuit didn't want to wear them. Every morning when it was "shoe time" I would try to put the new shoes on him only to find rejection and a bit of a fit if I pushed too hard. I was determined to get the new pair of shoes into the 2-shoe rotation (which had been dominated by the Krocs all summer) so I came up with a plan.
Since we have a shoe spot--a consistent place where the Biscuit's shoes are always placed each day--I took the new shoes out of their hidden location in the closet and put them in the shoe spot. After about a week of dust gathering on the new shoes, magic happened 1 morning. When it was shoe time, I asked the Biscuit which shoes he wanted to wear today and, to my surprise, he ran and got the new shoes "These ones!" A victory smile consumed my face.
As with most things with the Biscuit, he came around in his own time. In the end, I was pleased I figured out a way to "win" with de-feet.
We are always on the lookout for new XX (extra wide) shoes for the Biscuit. I have my eBay alerts running constantly, but these rare gems don't pop up often. The Biscuit's Starenka (grandma) has aided me in my search for months. She hit the jackpot 1 Saturday and uncovered a Stride Rite outlet at a nearby mall and picked up a cute pair of brown, suede tennis shoes for the Biscuit in the next size.
Now, I know what you're thinking... Stride Rite? Those aren't cheap. No, they aren't, but I can't walk into Wal-Mart and pick up a pair of shoes either, so I have to buy what fits and Stride Rite is excellent and has so many choices in XX size. The pair ran around $20 at the outlet store, which is not as bad as some of their shoes (at $40-$50 on average).
As cute and practical as these new shoes were, the Biscuit didn't want to wear them. Every morning when it was "shoe time" I would try to put the new shoes on him only to find rejection and a bit of a fit if I pushed too hard. I was determined to get the new pair of shoes into the 2-shoe rotation (which had been dominated by the Krocs all summer) so I came up with a plan.
Since we have a shoe spot--a consistent place where the Biscuit's shoes are always placed each day--I took the new shoes out of their hidden location in the closet and put them in the shoe spot. After about a week of dust gathering on the new shoes, magic happened 1 morning. When it was shoe time, I asked the Biscuit which shoes he wanted to wear today and, to my surprise, he ran and got the new shoes "These ones!" A victory smile consumed my face.
As with most things with the Biscuit, he came around in his own time. In the end, I was pleased I figured out a way to "win" with de-feet.
Why I Now Hate Bunnies
Bunny rabbits are soooooo cute. For most of my life I have loved cute, furry little bunny rabbits; truly I have. When I was a little girl, living in the glorious foothills of the Ozarks in the middle of "nowhere town" (my address was actually Route 2 or something like that) my brothers and I stumbled upon an abandoned bunny (abandoned being a nice way of explaining that my cat, Isis, stole the bunny from its momma and we saved it from sure death). As kids do, I tried to heal the bunny's wounds with alcohol and by trying to make a cotton ball stick to the open wound (cotton ball = kidthink for replacement of bunny fur). In the end, the bunny lived (I suppose) and wandered back to its hutch. From that day forward, I always had a soft spot for the bunny... until now.
Enter the devil bunnies, better known to all toddler parents as:
Enter the devil bunnies, better known to all toddler parents as:
Max and Ruby. Ruby and Max.
Basic plot, Ruby tries to do something, Max foils it (and ends up saving the day in the end). Somehow, this low graphic, simple plot, simple theme song amazes my child. When asked what he wants to watch on TV his response is always the same: Max & Ruby. And no matter how many times he hears the theme song (the worst theme song in the history of) he always squeals with delight "Max and Ruby!"
Please know that my child truly does not watch much TV (1 hour or less a day) but 75% of that TV time is dedicated to our bunny pals. I, frankly, am quite tired of watching Max & Ruby but I do have 1 request of Nick Jr. "For the love of Pete, please make a new episode." If I must watch this, at least give me a new story to watch.
I long for the day when we hop beyond our bunny friends. What does this obsession say about the Biscuit I wonder?
Biscuit, Butter & Mosquitos
Last week, the Biscuit came home after what seemed to be an exciting 2-day stay with his starenka and grandpa. I heard stories of fun dinners, endless stories read, walking around the garden outside, and picking tomatoes. All seemed harmless enough.
The Biscuit seemed a bit groggy, not really a surprise, it had been an exciting visit for him. Then, I saw them... 2 huge cherry tomato-sized welts on his legs and OMG, why is his ear abnormally large?
Summer is here, friends. As if the heat and humidity wasn't enough... here come the mosquitoes.
It seems the Biscuit has inherited his Mommy's wacky reaction to bug bites. A terrible reaction, known in the highfalutin medical community as: skeeter syndrome. No, that is not my comical, country-folk accent coming out. That is truly the name for the syndrome. Followthatdog has a nice article, which (incidentally) led me to the official name for the syndrome.
What to do before they bite? Avoid bananas. Maybe it's an old wives tale, but the Biscuit did (incidentally) have a slew of bananas the day before. Use a non-toxic, non-DEET containing bug spray. Cutter and Off actually have DEET-free options available now and there's always the old standard: Avon's Skin So Soft (Avon also offers a bug-spray now that includes SSS). Don't go out at dusk.
What to do after they bite? Sadly, no super treatments. TLC, ibuprofen, cortisone, and maybe some ice (the Biscuit won't allow the ice). Got a suggestion for a natural remedy for a toddler? Please share.
Need some skeeter humor, read Jaim's skeeter post. Got your own skeeter story about your little one? I'd love to hear it.
The Biscuit seemed a bit groggy, not really a surprise, it had been an exciting visit for him. Then, I saw them... 2 huge cherry tomato-sized welts on his legs and OMG, why is his ear abnormally large?
Summer is here, friends. As if the heat and humidity wasn't enough... here come the mosquitoes.
It seems the Biscuit has inherited his Mommy's wacky reaction to bug bites. A terrible reaction, known in the highfalutin medical community as: skeeter syndrome. No, that is not my comical, country-folk accent coming out. That is truly the name for the syndrome. Followthatdog has a nice article, which (incidentally) led me to the official name for the syndrome.
What to do before they bite? Avoid bananas. Maybe it's an old wives tale, but the Biscuit did (incidentally) have a slew of bananas the day before. Use a non-toxic, non-DEET containing bug spray. Cutter and Off actually have DEET-free options available now and there's always the old standard: Avon's Skin So Soft (Avon also offers a bug-spray now that includes SSS). Don't go out at dusk.
What to do after they bite? Sadly, no super treatments. TLC, ibuprofen, cortisone, and maybe some ice (the Biscuit won't allow the ice). Got a suggestion for a natural remedy for a toddler? Please share.
Need some skeeter humor, read Jaim's skeeter post. Got your own skeeter story about your little one? I'd love to hear it.
Moving to a New House, Part 3
During one of the first nights that the Biscuit spent in the new house, he had a little bit of trouble sleeping through the night. I couldn't figure out why he kept waking up, but ended up in his room on a few occasions quieting him back to sleep.
The next morning, I went in to wake him and did our usual morning routine. When I asked the Biscuit if he had a good night's sleep (as I ask every morning), he replied, "No!" I was a bit shocked by this answer, since he usually promptly responds "yes, Mommy." I asked him why and he pointed in the direction of his closet door saying, "what's that?"
I took the Biscuit over to the closet door and he kept pointing upward. Finally, I realized that he was pointing at the doorstop near the upper hinge on the door. I lifted him up and said, "Did that scare you?" and the Biscuit replied, "touch it" so I let him touch it.
Since then, whenever he sees a doorstop he points to it saying "scared you." Now, it truly was cute to hear him say it, and I let him continue for a few days before correcting him with the actual word for the object. He still prefers to call it "scared you."
Makes me wonder, though, if a doorstop scared him and kept him up half the night, how in the world will we ever deal with monsters under the bed.
The next morning, I went in to wake him and did our usual morning routine. When I asked the Biscuit if he had a good night's sleep (as I ask every morning), he replied, "No!" I was a bit shocked by this answer, since he usually promptly responds "yes, Mommy." I asked him why and he pointed in the direction of his closet door saying, "what's that?"
I took the Biscuit over to the closet door and he kept pointing upward. Finally, I realized that he was pointing at the doorstop near the upper hinge on the door. I lifted him up and said, "Did that scare you?" and the Biscuit replied, "touch it" so I let him touch it.
Since then, whenever he sees a doorstop he points to it saying "scared you." Now, it truly was cute to hear him say it, and I let him continue for a few days before correcting him with the actual word for the object. He still prefers to call it "scared you."
Makes me wonder, though, if a doorstop scared him and kept him up half the night, how in the world will we ever deal with monsters under the bed.
Moving to a New House, Part 1
As promised, we're back in the bloggin' business again. My many apologies for the delay in posting. The move to the new house was quite consuming, but I have lots to share from the experience.
Fortunately for us, we moved within the same general vicinity of our old house. I expected that the Biscuit would really only be forced to adapt to a new house with a new bedroom. One of the big changes that a typical move might involve, such as a new school/daycare, was not something we had to prepare the Biscuit for.
I started talking to the Biscuit about "moving to the new house" about 2 weeks before the actual move took place. He was already starting to get a bit fussy and unsettled (which showed in his sporadic, middle of the night wakings) when he started noticing that I was packing things up, the environment of the house was somewhat more stressful than usual, etc. I made 2 visits to the new house with the Biscuit prior to the actual move date.
It's amazing what simple pleasures children find in new things. The Biscuit was absolutely enamored with the doorbell at the new house. Each time we went for a visit, his main objective was to ring the doorbell. His teachers at school even picked up on the excitement about the doorbell and helped us to reinforce that positive association. It is always a great idea to keep the teachers in the loop on life changes.
The 1 thing that I knew I wanted to make sure of was that the Biscuit's room looked fairly similar (in positioning of furniture) to his old room. Unfortunately, the "will of the gods" stepped in to mess up my perfect plan to trick the Biscuit into thinking this was the "same ol' thing" just a different house.
As always seems to happen with in-town moves, we filled up our U-Haul truck before we had everything packed inside. We were then forced to make several moves with other cars and trucks to get the rest of our belongings to the new house. In one of the final trips, the glorious winds of fate stepped in and wrecked my perfect moving plans. As a tractor trailer passed by the truck, the beautiful crib that my son had spent the last 2 years of his life in took flight and caught 15 feet of air before coming crashing down into a rocky ditch on the side of the road. It was torn to shreds.
I had previously made plans for the Biscuit to spend the first 2 nights of our move at my mother's house so he wouldn't have to try and rest in the chaos. This gave me an extra day to figure out what to do about a new bed. It was a challenging decision because he is almost old enough for a toddler bed, but still isn't potty trained. I opted to purchase another crib that was similar to the old one, saving the additional change in beds for a later date (there is such a thing as too much change).
Much to my surprise, the Biscuit didn't seem to be bothered by the new bed. I didn't try to deceive him and, instead, told him outright that he had a new bed in his new house. He was excited about his new bed. Whew!
I can happily report that the Biscuit's first night sleeping in the new house went quite well. Once he was down for the count, he slept right on through the night. So tips so far are:
Fortunately for us, we moved within the same general vicinity of our old house. I expected that the Biscuit would really only be forced to adapt to a new house with a new bedroom. One of the big changes that a typical move might involve, such as a new school/daycare, was not something we had to prepare the Biscuit for.
I started talking to the Biscuit about "moving to the new house" about 2 weeks before the actual move took place. He was already starting to get a bit fussy and unsettled (which showed in his sporadic, middle of the night wakings) when he started noticing that I was packing things up, the environment of the house was somewhat more stressful than usual, etc. I made 2 visits to the new house with the Biscuit prior to the actual move date.
It's amazing what simple pleasures children find in new things. The Biscuit was absolutely enamored with the doorbell at the new house. Each time we went for a visit, his main objective was to ring the doorbell. His teachers at school even picked up on the excitement about the doorbell and helped us to reinforce that positive association. It is always a great idea to keep the teachers in the loop on life changes.
The 1 thing that I knew I wanted to make sure of was that the Biscuit's room looked fairly similar (in positioning of furniture) to his old room. Unfortunately, the "will of the gods" stepped in to mess up my perfect plan to trick the Biscuit into thinking this was the "same ol' thing" just a different house.
As always seems to happen with in-town moves, we filled up our U-Haul truck before we had everything packed inside. We were then forced to make several moves with other cars and trucks to get the rest of our belongings to the new house. In one of the final trips, the glorious winds of fate stepped in and wrecked my perfect moving plans. As a tractor trailer passed by the truck, the beautiful crib that my son had spent the last 2 years of his life in took flight and caught 15 feet of air before coming crashing down into a rocky ditch on the side of the road. It was torn to shreds.
I had previously made plans for the Biscuit to spend the first 2 nights of our move at my mother's house so he wouldn't have to try and rest in the chaos. This gave me an extra day to figure out what to do about a new bed. It was a challenging decision because he is almost old enough for a toddler bed, but still isn't potty trained. I opted to purchase another crib that was similar to the old one, saving the additional change in beds for a later date (there is such a thing as too much change).
Much to my surprise, the Biscuit didn't seem to be bothered by the new bed. I didn't try to deceive him and, instead, told him outright that he had a new bed in his new house. He was excited about his new bed. Whew!
I can happily report that the Biscuit's first night sleeping in the new house went quite well. Once he was down for the count, he slept right on through the night. So tips so far are:
- Introduce the concept of the new house before the move
- Use positive tone and voice to talk about the new house and moving
- Minimize stress (if you can)
- Be aware that sleeping habits may be affected
- Make caretakers/teachers aware of the move so they can use positive language too
- Find something positive/reward that your toddler can associate with the move (e.g., ringing the doorbell)
- Adapt to the unexpected (e.g., shattered cribs)
- Give your toddler credit for being adaptable
Please share your tips too. More to come...
Is It More than a Rash?
The Biscuit had not been feeling well over the Easter holiday. He had a bit of a cold the week before and then a fever (101F, 102F or so) for a few days going into the holiday weekend (we can't seem to have a holiday where he doesn't have a fever). As sometimes happens when he's not feeling 100%, his eating slowed a bit. For the most part, he had stopped eating solid foods, but was still drinking plenty of fluids. Then came the rash.
After his bath, I noticed that his arms and legs were covered with tiny little pinkish bumps. The rash didn't seem to bother him (no itching) but it certainly bothered me. I gave the Biscuit some extra allergy medicine and put him to bed. I had a date with GOOGLE.
After a few calls to parents of other toddlers and my own parents (with no luck) I found a few possibilities from my friend GOOGLE. The 2 most probable culprits: Roseola or hand, foot, and mouth disease. I prayed for the first, because HFM just sounded gross.
In the morning, the Biscuit was feeling great. No fever, no cold, rash was fading, but a few of the rash bumps seemed to have burst--so off to the doctor we went. While in the waiting room, the Biscuit's best friend, Adam, from daycare is carried in by his grandma. "Does Biscuit have an upset tummy too?" she asked. "No." I replied, "but we'll have to compare diagnoses later."
My doctor said that we had a case of a viral rash (roseola) that often follows an infection. The Biscuit had the remnants of a trailing ear infection. So we left. We later found out that Adam had HFM. Yikes. I then remembered that the Biscuit had refused one of his favorite treats: Mandarin oranges after putting 1 or 2 in his mouth and saying "Ouch!" It should have been a tell-tale sign for me that there was a sore somewhere in his throat (that was unable to be seen by the naked eye).
Well, as gross as it sounds, there's not much to do for HFM but keep up the Ibuprofen and offer lots of liquids. The Biscuit has since made it through and is back to his hearty appetite.
After his bath, I noticed that his arms and legs were covered with tiny little pinkish bumps. The rash didn't seem to bother him (no itching) but it certainly bothered me. I gave the Biscuit some extra allergy medicine and put him to bed. I had a date with GOOGLE.
After a few calls to parents of other toddlers and my own parents (with no luck) I found a few possibilities from my friend GOOGLE. The 2 most probable culprits: Roseola or hand, foot, and mouth disease. I prayed for the first, because HFM just sounded gross.
In the morning, the Biscuit was feeling great. No fever, no cold, rash was fading, but a few of the rash bumps seemed to have burst--so off to the doctor we went. While in the waiting room, the Biscuit's best friend, Adam, from daycare is carried in by his grandma. "Does Biscuit have an upset tummy too?" she asked. "No." I replied, "but we'll have to compare diagnoses later."
My doctor said that we had a case of a viral rash (roseola) that often follows an infection. The Biscuit had the remnants of a trailing ear infection. So we left. We later found out that Adam had HFM. Yikes. I then remembered that the Biscuit had refused one of his favorite treats: Mandarin oranges after putting 1 or 2 in his mouth and saying "Ouch!" It should have been a tell-tale sign for me that there was a sore somewhere in his throat (that was unable to be seen by the naked eye).
Well, as gross as it sounds, there's not much to do for HFM but keep up the Ibuprofen and offer lots of liquids. The Biscuit has since made it through and is back to his hearty appetite.
Me and My Shadow
The other day, I noticed that the Biscuit was behaving rather strangely. He was walking backwards away from a wall and then forwards in a repeated motion. Thoughts of "uh-oh, we've got a crazy one on our hands" did occur to me.
I realized, however, that the Biscuit had found his shadow. I was delighted! "He's your friend Biscuit!" I shouted to him. The Biscuit was amused with his new friend and desperately wanted to touch him so he kept moving toward the wall to try and get closer.
Ahhhh. A developmental milestone reached. A world of imagination begins. I can't wait to get him outside so we can have him jump and try and chase his new friend. Gotta make sure I have the video camera so I can record the moment and send it to the America's Funniest show.
I realized, however, that the Biscuit had found his shadow. I was delighted! "He's your friend Biscuit!" I shouted to him. The Biscuit was amused with his new friend and desperately wanted to touch him so he kept moving toward the wall to try and get closer.
Ahhhh. A developmental milestone reached. A world of imagination begins. I can't wait to get him outside so we can have him jump and try and chase his new friend. Gotta make sure I have the video camera so I can record the moment and send it to the America's Funniest show.
Toddler Party Tricks
No, I'm not offering a list of things you can do at a 2-year old's party to entertain the kiddies, I'm talking about the horrible thing that some parents do: turn their toddlers into the entertainment. I'm quite guilty of this and the kharma wheel came back to bite me this weekend.
Being a fan of the University of Arkansas (Go hogs!), it was only natural that one of the skills that the Biscuit needed to learn was how to "call the Hogs." I decided to test it out on him last weekend. He picked it up like a champ. He's so smart.
Wooooooo PIG SOOOIE (click 2 see it on YouTube)! The Biscuit even had the hand motions down pat. When we went to visit his Starenka (his grandma; loosely Americanized it's pronounced stah zhenka) and grandpa, we showed off his new trick. He repeated it again at dinner. It was one of my most proud moments! Until Sunday...
Sunday morning we, as usual, went to church. (and you all know where this is heading) During the pastor's sermon, when all was quiet, the Biscuit (perched up in his Starenka's arms) began to call the Hogs in the midst of God and everyone.
Well, I hushed him fairly quickly and we giggled a bit. Guess that'll teach me not to use my child as a trained monkey. (but it was really funny)
Being a fan of the University of Arkansas (Go hogs!), it was only natural that one of the skills that the Biscuit needed to learn was how to "call the Hogs." I decided to test it out on him last weekend. He picked it up like a champ. He's so smart.
Wooooooo PIG SOOOIE (click 2 see it on YouTube)! The Biscuit even had the hand motions down pat. When we went to visit his Starenka (his grandma; loosely Americanized it's pronounced stah zhenka) and grandpa, we showed off his new trick. He repeated it again at dinner. It was one of my most proud moments! Until Sunday...
Sunday morning we, as usual, went to church. (and you all know where this is heading) During the pastor's sermon, when all was quiet, the Biscuit (perched up in his Starenka's arms) began to call the Hogs in the midst of God and everyone.
Well, I hushed him fairly quickly and we giggled a bit. Guess that'll teach me not to use my child as a trained monkey. (but it was really funny)
Pick Your Battles
Last night at dinner I gave the Biscuit some broccoli on his tray for the 4th or 5th time. I assumed that he would refuse to eat it as he usually does. To my surprise, he picked it up and named it "bwokuhlee" and put it in his mouth for a moment. He then very promptly threw it on the floor.
Usually I give him the business for throwing food, I do pick my battles with him and while I typically will correct him verbally for throwing food on the floor, I don't discipline him much for it. I am hoping that the food throwing is a phase and that he will begin to mimic my table manners soon.
He continued the broccoli dance throughout the meal: in the mouth for a moment and then hurdled onto the floor. Each time he put the broccoli in his mouth, I smiled, and tried not to breathe (thinking I might break the spell that was causing my toddler to actually eat "some" broccoli). Finally, I realized what the Biscuit was doing.
He doesn't like the tops of the broccoli, only the bottom. Aha! He was putting it in his mouth, eating the bottom part and then throwing the icky tops away. I, too, used to be a broccoli stalk-eater as a child so I can understand the preference.
Today I served broccoli topless. The Biscuit loved it.
Usually I give him the business for throwing food, I do pick my battles with him and while I typically will correct him verbally for throwing food on the floor, I don't discipline him much for it. I am hoping that the food throwing is a phase and that he will begin to mimic my table manners soon.
He continued the broccoli dance throughout the meal: in the mouth for a moment and then hurdled onto the floor. Each time he put the broccoli in his mouth, I smiled, and tried not to breathe (thinking I might break the spell that was causing my toddler to actually eat "some" broccoli). Finally, I realized what the Biscuit was doing.
He doesn't like the tops of the broccoli, only the bottom. Aha! He was putting it in his mouth, eating the bottom part and then throwing the icky tops away. I, too, used to be a broccoli stalk-eater as a child so I can understand the preference.
Today I served broccoli topless. The Biscuit loved it.
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