Mommy, you are a smart little girl.
Am I?
Mommy, are you smart?
I don’t know.
You are, are you little?
I don’t know, am I?
You are. Does Daddy take care of you?
Does he?
He does, and he takes care of me too.
Is she not the cutest thing on the planet?
Since the Olmypics started, our house has looked a lot like an Exxon-Mobile commercial. Katie is always skating, or skiing around the house. Yesterday when I caught her standing on two of her board books skating across the carpet I decided it was time to put her on ice skates. We rushed through dinner and headed off to the local ice rink. At 6:30 PM on a Thursday night the parking lot was full. It was, of course, the reason we were there and a rink owners quadrennial dream come true: little olympians.
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I have been suspicious for a while that Katie is climbing on her dresser to reach the light switch. A few times I’ve found the light on when I’ve been fairly certain I turned it off (since we never leave it on). Well, tonight at 9:45 (over an hour after bedtime) Katie shouts I need to go potty!. I go upstairs and her light is on. I’m pretty sure I turned it off so I decide to ask her about it. She doesn’t usually lie about things, even when she knows she’s been bad, and in this case she probably doesn’t realize I might get upset with her. So while sitting in the bathroom – her on the toilet, me on the edge of the tub – this is the conversation we have:
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Usually Tristan wakes up around 6:30-7:00 AM but this morning we heard him crying around 5:30. Stefan went in to make sure he hadn’t lodged one of his limbs in the bars of his crib. Amazingly at three months he has enough coordination to get his arms, legs, sometimes all of the above, through the rails but he lacks the coordination to get them out. Anyway, he wasn’t trapped so Stefan turned on the magic aquarium and came back to bed. A little later, when it became obvious that Tristan wasn’t going back to sleep until he ate I went in to his room, changed him, and fed him.
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There are two kinds of music in our house – kids music and music we don’t listen to anymore. Considering that we used to imbibe in the local music scene on a frequent basis this is pretty traumatic. We still relish in the ability to tell stories like the night they were begging people to pay a $5 cover to see up-and-coming star Howie Day. Unless you have kids, you are probably thinking, like I used too, why not let your kids listen to a little adult music? It’s not until you realize that kids will sing any song they like at any time that you change your mind. As such we have a simple litmus test for music we let Katie hear: Is there any part of this song you would not want her singing at the top of her lungs in Whole Foods? Once you start thinking about it like this, even the seemingly innocuous songs get ruled out.
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As you know, Katie is undergoing forced detox from finger sucking. I don’t know who is suffering more, Katie or Mommy. The sucking ban forced Tristan and I to listen to prolonged crying while driving in the car twice in a three day stretch last week. One of those days we didn’t leave the house. There’s nothing better to put you in a great mood than to be driving along with a screaming banshee in the back seat. I just keep bopping along singing Victor Vito.
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So it seems we caught the express vomit train and by yesterday evening Katie was asking for strawberries and milk. Just what I want when my stomach is feeling rocky. Instead we offered her a pretzel and non-flavored pedialyte. Pretend they’re a strawberry and milk, sweetheart. Meanwhile Tristan spit-up, an unusual occurrence for him, and sent me into a panic attack. Stefan reminded me that spitting up is in the normal repertoire of activities for a three-month old and to settle down.
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As if the cold-sinus infection-shingles-cold-sinus infection weren’t enough of a way to start 2006 it appears that EVoD has decided to throw party. EVoD, also known as Exploding Vomit of Death, is one of those lovely gifts children bring into your home. Picture a virus that looks and acts like the inner fast from the VW commercials. It enters your system and decides to have a house party. (more…)
The dinner table in the kitchen of the urchin undersea palace, hence forth know as Chez Poulbot (urchins’ place,) can often be a pleasant Cleaver moment in our lives — definitely an updated Cleaver family where Wally and the Beav will eat anything including stinky cheese and Indian food. Last night was not one of the moments.
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Why is it that the bathroom and things that go on there are so funny? It apparently starts young because Tristan already grins ear to ear as soon as you open his diaper and discover it’s full. I mean, this is one of the best grins we get out of him, I’d take a picture but while the face is cute the diaper is pretty gross.
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