Slippery When Wet

I've finally found a way to keep my son out of the bathroom.

I know, I know, I wish it were that simple, we can't just shut the door.

We have a cat. It's my husband's cat. He's had him for 16 years now. His name is Hobbes. Hobbes' litter box is in the bathroom, so the door to the bathroom must be kept open at all times.

Due to the open bathroom-door policy in our house, there is a point in everyday that I have to drag my son, screaming out of the bathroom.

He loves to play in the bathroom. He likes to play in the toilet, he likes to play in the sink. He likes to move my daughter's Dora the Explorer stepstool all over our tiny little bathroom. Mostly to move it over to the sink, where he steps on it and says, "bath, bath". That's how he tells us he wants to wash his hands.

One day, while moving the stool, he fell into the litter box. We heard, "Mommy, Mommy," and there he was sitting in the cat box, crying and scared, with his little bottom lip curled under and quivering, as his little legs and feet dangled over the side.

He likes to brush his teeth. a.k.a. suck the toothpaste off of his toothbrush and then run around the house with it.

When my daughter is taking a bath, he cries to join her. Again, "bath, bath." We always let him go in and he's fine until the time comes to wash his hair. I pick up the big red plastic cup from the ledge, used to pour water all over his head, and he immediately starts to get upset.

This tiny act sends him into a panic. He stands up in the tub and will not sit back down. He's crying at this point and puts his arms out to me, as if to say, Mommy get me out of here!

So, I quickly wet, wash and rinse his hair. I do it really quickly because hysterically crying, wet and slippery baby, standing up in the tub, gives me a little scare. By the end of the hair washing, he is absolutely beside himself.

This has been going on for months now. Stephen and I always comment on how he HAS to go into the bath tub, yet HATES it.

This morning the light bulb finally went off. I see my son in the bathroom, standing by the side of the tub. He's pulling the shower curtain back with his little left hand while pointing into the bath tub with his right hand, saying, "bath, bath."

And it finally comes to me....I say,

Hey there honey, want to play in the bath tub? Mommy will make a nice bath for you!

I then proceeded to fix my right hand as if I were holding the big red cup. I made a pouring motion and said..

Mommy will pour the BIG red cup, FULL of water, ALL OVER YOUR HEAD... I'll wash your hair!.... I then used my hands to pretend that I was washing his hair and said Washie, Washie!

This sent my son running and screaming OUT of the bathroom.

Ahhh...if only I had thought of this sooner.

Penny for Your Thoughts

Stephen and our little guy were having the best time playing the other day.

Stephen was really enjoying the interaction they had going on together. He was making funny faces and the baby was sticking out his tongue and babbling happily. He doesn't have a very extensive vocabulary. Our son I mean, not Stephen (ha, ha, ha). He says mama and bye, hello and bath, cheese and shoes. But, Stephen swears he hears him say, I love you daddy.

Stephen was overjoyed at how amused the baby was by the funny faces he was making. The baby kept sticking out his tongue and saying aaah. This happened over and over again. The more the baby stuck out his tongue and said aaah, the happier Stephen became... "My son and I are bonding!"... "I am the funniest daddy in the world!"

There Stephen was imagining again that his amused little fan was saying, aaah love you daddy!

But soon Stephen realized that the baby wasn't saying, aaah love you daddy at all.

Our little guy was simply, and very proudly, showing Stephen the penny he had placed on his tongue.

The Awakening

My daughter drinks chocolate milk every single day, and every single day as I prepare her milk, my son stands next to me watching me prepare it and cries for some of his own. 

Every single day I breath a deep sigh, as I feel sorry for the little guy, and begin to make a cup for him as well .

It's not that I don't think he should be drinking the chocolate milk. It's Ovaltine so it's packed with Vitamins and to be perfectly honest, I really wouldn't care if it were plain chocolate syrup.

It's the fact that every single day when I give him chocolate milk in a sippy cup he manages to get it all over himself, all over the kitchen floor, all over the living room rug. If I hand it to him while sitting down, soon I see that it's all over the leather couch. It doesn't matter which cup it is. Every single cup we've bought leaks.

Every single day I wonder how the heck he manages to do this and every single day while preparing his milk I think to myself," I hope the cup doesn't leak again this time." "What is it with all of these cups?" "I cannot believe that we don't have one cup in this house that doesn't leak!" "Maybe my daughter's princess cup will be ok?" "Let me check the little plastic insert to make sure it's secure."

So, every single day I check the plastic insert on the chosen cup and I press down on it really really hard, in an attempt to fit it in there tight, and I think, "that should do it". But it doesn't do it and every single day I feel like I got ripped off.

Until today.

It was today that I realized, or to be more specific, witnessed, that it's not the little clear cup we bought by Playskool, or the Dora Explorer from Munchkin, it's not his Cars cup from First Years or the personalized cup we picked out for him at Toys R Us. It was today that I turned around, saw him take a big swig of milk from his sippy, swish it around in his mouth and spit it out.

This is not a wine tasting.

The Railing

Stephen and I took the kids to an Italian festival this Sunday. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the weather was perfect. A fantastic day to hang out by the water.

I love going to Italian feasts. I remember going with my parents, aunts and cousins as a kid. I remember my mom buying me a "Proud to Be an Italian" shirt at one of them when I was a little girl and absolutely loving it. It was a black t-shirt with one of those iron-on decals. Naturally, it featured an Italian flag and the words were written in silver. The decal sparkled. I wore that shirt until the iron-on decal came off in the wash. I had another favorite shirt at that time too...The Dukes of Hazzard, as I had a big crush on Bo Duke, but that's another story.

Anyhow, I am overjoyed that my daughter has inherited my love of the Italian feast.

This Sunday we started out at the vendors to buy something to eat. We then found the perfect spot at a table right on the water to enjoy our food and drinks. The slice of pizza that the kids shared was finished and our daughter was ready to go and play some games and enjoy the rides. I asked my husband to stay behind with our son so he could save the table for us. That's another thing about me. When we go to these festivals, I always like a "home-base" if you will, so we can sit back, relax and enjoy the day.

As my daughter and I were leaving the table area I reminded Stephen to keep a close eye on our son, as he is a sweet little boy who is also filled with mischief. I looked at the rail separating my little son and the River and sensed that he needed to be watched carefully. My husband scoffed a little but said he'd keep a close eye.

Don't you know that when we returned from playing games and going on rides, my husband told me that our little Chunk-A-Bunk actually got down on the ground, laid down on his back, and then tried unsuccessfully (thank God), to shimmy his little body, feet first, under the rail, and into the River!