Ladybug, Ladybug

Steph was out doing her manly -- womanly blackberry clearing this evening. When she came it, she looked to see what was on her glasses that was blurring her vision. 'Twas a ladybug. She took it off and showed the boys who were quite eager. Eddie wanted to hold it, which he did. Chas merely danced around the edges, occassionally opining, "She's great!" At one point he said he wanted to hold her but when we got within a foot, he backed out.

After a sufficient period of ladybug torture, we decided to let her out to return to her mommy. Then she flew onto Eddie's lip, then over his nose and onto his eyelid, which produced squeals of delighted laughter. When they did release her out the back door, both boys said "Goodbye and thank you," at Steph' s urging. Then Eddie elaborated on his own. "Thank you for letting me hold you!" (It's almost enough to make me rethink my homicidal urges during the 45 minutes or so that he screamed, cried and whined for a lollypop from the toy store this afternoon.)

Now to sour this sweet moment, it should be noted that the entire episode occurred while both boys were pantless. OK, Chas had some around his ankles, but still. We're not perverts, really we're not. But our boys are.

(Chas did not remain still long enough or near enough the ladybug to be photographed.

I want breakfast and a doggy.

So yesterday morning, Eddie awoke screaming as if having a nightmare. What was he screaming? "I want a doggy!" Assuming this was just a dream he needed to get past, I told him he could have a doggy and calmed him into falling back asleep. Crisis averted, right? Until he woke up for real and announced his two desires. "I want breakfast and a doggy." Not a stuffed doggy either. A "real" doggy.

I called Steph. "I don't want a dog," she said, the panic just starting to sound in the edge of her voice. "I know," I said. "Neither do I. We are NOT getting a dog." And yet. The fear and panic made it clear that we're no longer in charge. I mean, if we were in charge, a request or even demand for a dog would not scare us because we could just say no. But I think we both feared that even our fervent desire to not be tied down with a dog would be meaningless in the face of 3-year-old insistence.

When the topic came up with Eddie again -- oh, about 3 minutes later, I told him all kinds of terrible things. Things like, "Talk to Santa about it." (Now, there is no way in hell Santa will bring him a dog. That's just not the way to do this kind of thing even if we were going to cave. But I'm much more comfortable with Santa being the bad guy. Sue me, fat man.) "Santa probably thinks you need to wait until you're older. Until you can feed your doggy and pick up his poop."

Here's where the story brightens. Because this is, after all, my child we're talking about. "I don't want a poopy doggy," he said. "I want a dog that doesn't poop."

"That's what we all want," I said. "But all dogs poop."

He pondered for a moment then made a rather significant concession. "I want a doggy that doesn't poop. I want a toy dog." Crisis averted. Or at least postponed. Because we, the grown ups in the house, really, really, really don't want a dog.

How to Tell You are Going to Have a Challenging Day

Clue 47: This morning the boys woke up in relatively good moods. Chas seems to be over his sickness, though he put his hands to his mouth and feigned nausea when I sat at the computer to write. Still, things started off well with the three of us laughing in bed. The boys started "stealing" my nose, I stole theirs back etc. Then Chas "stole" Eddie's nose. And Eddie screamed and "stole" Chas' nose. Then both boys screamed. Sobbed, really. Because each wanted his nose back. Sigh.

I wholeheartedly support this.

America, discover your materialistic side! Order lots and lots of free shit from James Dobson!!

http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/Content?oid=54084

My Father-In-Law is Crazy.

I don't mean in that whole "what a wacky guy, he'll try anything" sort of way or that "he's such a hilarious card" kind of way. I mean in the "he's completely batshit crazy" kind of way. It's not something I didn't know before. But sometimes I'm reminded and it still sort of surprises me when I am. I can only hope that he was always thus and therefore Steph is not in danger of following in his crazy footsteps.

That was a long day and I was glad to get my own candy.

Eddie summed up today pretty well with that statement. We joined the other kids from the preschool they will be attending this fall for the annual Milton summer parade. They were supposed to throw, toss or just generally distribute to the assembled "crowd" some Smartees candies. This was not enthusiastically embraced by the fellas who thought that keeping the candy for themselves seemed a much wiser course of action. They were persuaded, reluctantly. Fortunately their Auntie and Pink Grandma had collected some candy tossed their way during the parade and provided them with all the sugar they could want.

Then at the festival, they played some carnival games, won some cheap-ass toys, played in two different types of inflatable jump-around toy things. They also indulged in free cotton candy (Chas did, anyway), free snow cones and hotdogs. Then Chas spied the area I thought we could avoid. "I want to do that!" I followed his pointing finger and thorught I was mistaken until he spoke again. "Bird houses!" So yes, with help from Mama and Auntie Cathy the boys made some bitchin' bird houses. Eddie was particularly insistent at doing his own hammering. Chas lost interest once it became clear that his nearly completed bird house would have to be dismantled and reassembled due to Auntie and Mama's inability to correctly orient the front and back.


"I was happy to get my own candy today," Eddie just said.

"My bird house ifs for birds. When a bird comes to my house I can let a bird on my bird house," Eddie said when reminded of it.

"No birds come in my birdhouse. ... My bird house is too bad for my bird," says Chas. "My bird will cocme out and will turn into butterfly." OK, we've got to clarify the whole butterfly from caterpillars thing I guess.

Chas knows he is my brudder.

While playing at the train structure outside Target the other day, Eddie came up to me looking very serious. Perturbed, if you will. As if some grievous wrong had been committed against him and indeed it had.

"Somebody touched me and pulled my shirt," he reported solemnly. "And it was NOT my brudder. Chas knows he is my brudder."

Imagine some kid who is not his brother actually touching him. Horrible.

Portrait of the Young Men as Artists

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Originally uploaded by MommyCheryl.

So the boys got out their paints last week and had a blast. And got paint all over the place. But laughs like this make it worth it. For the first time, Eddie drew a "face." He said he was drawing Thomas the Tank Engine and he drew a circle with eyes and a mouth.

Pretty cool.

I told you the team that beat them was young...

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Originally uploaded by MommyCheryl.

OK, so the interns were a bit older. Still, Steph clearly realized that her team needs youth. She's already started training a couple of ringers for next year's tournament.

More Supreme Jock behavior...

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Originally uploaded by MommyCheryl.

My girl the jock

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Originally uploaded by MommyCheryl.

So at her company picnic, Steph joined a bunch of mosttly 20-something guys to play something called "Broom Ball." It was mostly amusing -- the games are nice and short and very fast paced. Her team, "Search Inside The Broom," placed second. A DISTANT second to the intern team which had youth on its side. It was an interesting display of the corporate culture at Amazon and, I think, a pretty good indication of why she feels so at home there. It's almost like she joined a fraternity.