Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Crunchy Cereal

My son has no idea that Rice Krispies snap or crackle, let alone that they pop. He doesn't look forward to drinking the milk out of the bowl, which has been made sweet by the sugar from the cereal. I think we ruined him.

When he was a toddler and learning to eat on his own, we didn't like him to get too messy. We decided milk on cereal could lead to him getting too messy so we gave him the dry cereal and a glass of milk. Once we figured he had the whole spoon-to-mouth thing down, we tried pouring milk on his cereal so he could eat normally. Nope. He wasn't havin' it.

To this day he eats his cereal dry with a glass of milk. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Once in a while we try to talk him into the joy of milk on cereal. He'll dip a dry piece of cereal into his glass of milk and see what it'd be like. 99 times out of a 100, he decides it's no good.

Yep, we ruined him.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

This Says Aunt

Yesterday I picked up Scream from preschool for my day of nephew(s). I love having the little guy(s) come visit.

Once Scream got his coat and hat on and was ready to go he handed me some papers. They were little yellow papers, like from a miniaturized legal pad, and had drawings on them. One of them had "Jacob" written in little 4 yr old writing. "Mom" was written next to that.

Pointing to "Mom," Scream tells me, "that says Aunt." Hmm...was he really intending to write "Aunt" and "Mom" was the closest he could come up with? Or (more likely) he made that for my sister and then decided to give it to me since I was taking him to play with me. What manipulation skills for such a young bugger.

P.S. Yell broke my heart when I was picking Scream up from preschool. Yell attends the same preschool and knew I was only taking Scream. He wouldn't even look at me since I wasn't taking him to play, too. When I tried showering him with kisses, he stuck his tongue out at me.

Friday, November 19, 2004

The No-Pants Dance

I was just scanning in some old pictures from long-ago when my son was just a little tyke. One of the pictures reminded me of a cute story that is "oh so cute" and must be shared...

When he was around 6 or 7, he was getting ready for bed. He horses and around and gets distracted and usually the whole process ends up taking much longer than necessary. This particular night was no exception.

He had undressed for bed and was wearing only his underwear. He was doing a silly dance around his room, bopping around with his pointer fingers each pointing up in the air and singing "it's the no pants dance...doobie, doobie, doo."

He is quite the little ham and often does silly things to amuse others, but this time he was doing it just for his own pleasure. His door was mostly closed, only open a tiny crack. He had no idea I started peaking in once I heard the singing.

"It's the no-pants dance...doobie, doobie, doo."

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

No Weird Al Yankovic!?

My son was in the running for mayor or Exchange City, the mock city he will go to as a field trip with his school. He wasn't elected the position, but that was just fine with him. When it got down to voting time, he was considering voting for someone else because he wanted to be a radio DJ more than mayor.

So lucky him, he lost the election in spite of voting for himself, and he interviewed and was hired as a DJ for KEXC, the Exchange City radio station. When he came home from school and was telling me he was hired he was totally bummed about it though. He found out they weren't allowed to bring in any of their own CDs. He had been planning on bringing in all of his Weird Al CDs to play. I think he was planning on enlightening his whole grade to the comedy/musical genius of Weird Al.

Hopefully he'll cheer up when he hears they have some songs by the Beatles and the Dixie Chicks. He had such a long face telling me he didn't get to bring any of his own stuff. I mean really, is life really worth living without Weird Al?

Monday, November 15, 2004

He Must be From Brooklyn

"Now it's you's turn," he'll tell me when we play Candyland. He was born into an all-Minnesotan family and has only lived in Minnesota, but you'd think my 3 yr old nephew Dylan (aka Yell) is from Brooklyn or something.

He has the cutest speech impediments already. His thick tongue often reminds me of the Warner Bros. cartoon cat Sylvester ("thuffering thucotash"). "Stay" is instead pronounced "thtay" and "those" is "thothe." He also doesn't pronounce "r", but does the typical "w" sound, placing him "hue" instead of "here."

Then he gets the idea that the possessive form of words is I-mine, him-his, Dylan-Dylan's, you-you's. He also decided that the multiple of you is yous. Instead of saying something like "you guys" he'll say "yous."

Now all he needs to go with his Brooklyn accent is the grimacing face and lots of hand gestures and he could fit right in on the steps outside a Brooklyn apartment building...a potty mouth would help too. Luckily, so far "thut up" is racey enough for him.

Friday, November 12, 2004

Hair Habit

My nephew Jake (aka Scream) has the cutest little comfort habit. Just like some girls twist a lock of hair around their finger, Jake twists a lock of hair on the very top of his head. But being that he is a boy with a typical, short boy haircut, he doesn't have much to twist. He reaches his arms up and just pulls that little tuff of hair with one hand, and then the other, over and over again.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Bostons are Hunting Dog

It is a super windy day out. Leaves are blowing all over the place. Little Wally barks and want to go out. I opened the door and barely clipped his tether onto his collar, and he pounced and caught a leaf.

Only a leaf you might say. But this was a leaf he started hunting from the glass of the patio door. It isn't big game that we can clean up for dinner, but he hunted it all the same. Sure it was just sitting there. No longer blowing around in the wind once it landed behind the house and was sheltered from the blustery day. It was quaking a little bit, though. It wasn't a mere inanimate object that he hunted.

If you think Boston terriers are not hunting dogs, let me advise you to think again. Don't let their small, fragile, not-meant-for-the-outdoors bodies, their inability to sneak up on anything because of the snorting breathing and farting, and their inability to smell without their forehead touching the object because of their muzzle-less faces throw you off.