First, that person formally known as Grandpop is now Peepop. Despite my best efforts, this is the name Billy has settled on. Peepop it is.
We knew this day would come. It was inevitable. The day when Billy would ask where Peepop's hair went.
"The Easter Bunny ate my hair," Peepop laughed.
Billy was very concerned. I could see his little toddler mind processing this. First, the Easter Bunny will bring candy, next the Easter Bunny will eat all of his hair and then disappear into thin air leaving me with a boon of chocolate and a bald spot. Way to combine Halloween with Easter, Peepop, with a mutant bunny that goes around eating hair off of unsuspecting heads.
"Um, actually, Buster ate his hair!" I piped in. Buster is Peepop's dog. Seemed a likely choice. He's been known to eat a shoe or twenty.
There was a quick exchange of glances before Peepop caught on. "Oh, yeah, Buster ate my hair!"
Better than warding off a horrible hair-eating hare with magical powers.
Now we only have to worry about locking Buster up at bedtime when Billy sleeps over at Peepop's.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
March 18, 2013 ~ Clowning Around
Yes, I'm a day late in posting. But I'm busy busy busy.
Daddy and Billy went to the grocery store together, so I didn't get to see much of Billy. When I finally did get to see him, this is what I saw:
Yep. School decided to paint up Silly Billy like a clown. With real clown makeup. And me without any baby oil (a real clown's secret to removing clown make up). We had to scrub it off with baby lotion instead.
It took two parents to get the makeup off, between stubborn makeup and a stubborn toddler.
Daddy and Billy went to the grocery store together, so I didn't get to see much of Billy. When I finally did get to see him, this is what I saw:
It took two parents to get the makeup off, between stubborn makeup and a stubborn toddler.
Monday, March 18, 2013
March 17, 2013 ~ Snoopy Sauce
We started the weekend with a jaunt down to the court to finally try out the motorcycle on the street. He wanted to really open it up and get it going to top speed (of 1.7 mph).
He did not want to come inside. It was chilly and cloudy, but he was having too much fun tooling around with his little bike. He really wanted to take it out on the road, but I have a strict court-only rule. We did take it over to the pool parking lot, but the gentle slope of the hill proved treacherous. So much for that.
Due to a mild salon fiasco I ended up missing the whole afternoon with Billy. That's a long story filled with gripe.
Unfortunately, it was a crappy afternoon so we were stuck inside.
Here's Billy showing off his feats of strength by carrying his box o' blocks. It's full and rather heavy.
Oh yeah, and check out the sweater. I let him have a sheet of stickers. Do you know what happens when you give a sheet of stickers to a 2 year old? This:
~
St. Patrick's Day!
The first thing that Billy wanted to do on St. Pat's Day was watch Brave. In fact, he's had no love for this movie (it's scary) and I didn't suggest it. He decided he wanted to watch it. Fitting for the day, I think. He even told me the music in it was "Ire-rish music."
It was another yucky day so we were cleaning. Billy is terrified of vacuum cleaners. He loves them, but he's terrified.
Billy is hiding in his chair and protecting his stuffed friends from scary old roomba.
After two days of crappy weather Billy had cabin fever. So, I decided that the best thing to do on a cold almost snowy (it was snowing nearby) day was to go out for ice cream.
"Billy, what kind to you want?"
"Um... the pink one!"
Of course, he wanted the pink one. That would be strawberry gelato. I figured that was a safe bet with him, since he loves strawberries and ice cream.
I got mint chocolate chip gelato and let him try mine. He ate his for awhile, but then decided he liked mine better and so I gave mine to him. He ate the rest of mine and when that ran out went back to the strawberry.
At this point he had the shivers. Time to put an end to the ice cream. I threw out that whole cup of strawberry. He wailed, "I want more ice cream!" but there was nothing for it. It was already thrown out and he was shivering.
When we got home we curled up under a blanket to watch the end of Brave. In the middle of the movie he said to me, "Mommy, I know like that smell. What's that smell?"
I smelled it. Smelled like wine. But, Daddy has been making his own wine as a hobby, so I thought nothing of it.
Just then Daddy bounded down the steps having just woken up from his nap. "What's that smell?" he asked. "Smells like wine," I repeated. I must be the special P.I. Nose around here.
A string of expletives came out of his mouth as he dashed towards his wine making area. The carboy, a glass container for brewing, had been sitting on a milk crate. The old crate had collapsed under the weight of the wine, sending approximately 5 gallons of wine gushing all over the laundry room floor and into the bathroom and guest room. There was glass everywhere.
I bet you're wondering why I am telling you this story? I'm getting there.
Billy really wanted to help with the clean up. But we had on shoes- he didn't. Also, he's two. He shouldn't be cleaning up a.) wine or b.) glass. So, I told him he had to have shoes and that we were too busy to put his shoes on (you know, with wine soaking into the carpet and all).
He ran upstairs to fetch his tennis shoes and brought them back down. He really wanted me to put them on him, but again, there was wine and glass everywhere, so I didn't want him helping and didn't want to break from cleaning.
"Put them on yourself!" I suggested.
And he did just that. In under five minutes. Foiled again! He got to "help" for being so big that he was able to put his shoes on all by himself for the very first time.
A small sigh for the wine that was lost. It was done, just needed to be bottled.
~
By the time we got everything cleaned up it was after bedtime but Billy hadn't eaten dinner yet. I sat him down to eat a favorite soup of mine- potato and leek soup. I call it vichyssoise (although generally vichyssoise is served cold but it's the same thing.) Billy decided the name was Snoopy Sauce. By the way, he doesn't like Snoopy Sauce and he was pretty sure I hid a potato in it (okay, maybe 3).
He gave his Snoopy Sauce to me and opted for leftover Mac Mac instead. Then, being well past his bedtime, it was off to the land of Land of Nod.
Due to a mild salon fiasco I ended up missing the whole afternoon with Billy. That's a long story filled with gripe.
Unfortunately, it was a crappy afternoon so we were stuck inside.
Oh yeah, and check out the sweater. I let him have a sheet of stickers. Do you know what happens when you give a sheet of stickers to a 2 year old? This:
~
St. Patrick's Day!
The first thing that Billy wanted to do on St. Pat's Day was watch Brave. In fact, he's had no love for this movie (it's scary) and I didn't suggest it. He decided he wanted to watch it. Fitting for the day, I think. He even told me the music in it was "Ire-rish music."
It was another yucky day so we were cleaning. Billy is terrified of vacuum cleaners. He loves them, but he's terrified.
After two days of crappy weather Billy had cabin fever. So, I decided that the best thing to do on a cold almost snowy (it was snowing nearby) day was to go out for ice cream.
"Billy, what kind to you want?"
"Um... the pink one!"
Of course, he wanted the pink one. That would be strawberry gelato. I figured that was a safe bet with him, since he loves strawberries and ice cream.
I got mint chocolate chip gelato and let him try mine. He ate his for awhile, but then decided he liked mine better and so I gave mine to him. He ate the rest of mine and when that ran out went back to the strawberry.
At this point he had the shivers. Time to put an end to the ice cream. I threw out that whole cup of strawberry. He wailed, "I want more ice cream!" but there was nothing for it. It was already thrown out and he was shivering.
When we got home we curled up under a blanket to watch the end of Brave. In the middle of the movie he said to me, "Mommy, I know like that smell. What's that smell?"
I smelled it. Smelled like wine. But, Daddy has been making his own wine as a hobby, so I thought nothing of it.
Just then Daddy bounded down the steps having just woken up from his nap. "What's that smell?" he asked. "Smells like wine," I repeated. I must be the special P.I. Nose around here.
A string of expletives came out of his mouth as he dashed towards his wine making area. The carboy, a glass container for brewing, had been sitting on a milk crate. The old crate had collapsed under the weight of the wine, sending approximately 5 gallons of wine gushing all over the laundry room floor and into the bathroom and guest room. There was glass everywhere.
I bet you're wondering why I am telling you this story? I'm getting there.
Billy really wanted to help with the clean up. But we had on shoes- he didn't. Also, he's two. He shouldn't be cleaning up a.) wine or b.) glass. So, I told him he had to have shoes and that we were too busy to put his shoes on (you know, with wine soaking into the carpet and all).
He ran upstairs to fetch his tennis shoes and brought them back down. He really wanted me to put them on him, but again, there was wine and glass everywhere, so I didn't want him helping and didn't want to break from cleaning.
"Put them on yourself!" I suggested.
And he did just that. In under five minutes. Foiled again! He got to "help" for being so big that he was able to put his shoes on all by himself for the very first time.
A small sigh for the wine that was lost. It was done, just needed to be bottled.
~
By the time we got everything cleaned up it was after bedtime but Billy hadn't eaten dinner yet. I sat him down to eat a favorite soup of mine- potato and leek soup. I call it vichyssoise (although generally vichyssoise is served cold but it's the same thing.) Billy decided the name was Snoopy Sauce. By the way, he doesn't like Snoopy Sauce and he was pretty sure I hid a potato in it (okay, maybe 3).
He gave his Snoopy Sauce to me and opted for leftover Mac Mac instead. Then, being well past his bedtime, it was off to the land of Land of Nod.
The Sunday Post- I Want A Dress!
Imagine for a moment that you are two. You're two, so you love shiny things and bright colors. You're two, so you love lots of decorations. You're two, so you have no concept of gender. Now, imagine being two and walking into a store to buy an Easter outfit.
For the girls there are beautiful dress in vibrant colors or pastels. Each one has more decoration than the next. The have glitter, iridescence, bows, embroidery, jewels and lots of other frills.
For the boys they have jeans to match either plaid dress shirts or rugby shirts, or polos with plaid shorts. Whomp, whomp.
And now imagine that you are two AND a boy. Imagine that sinking feeling when you realize that girls get all the cool colors and all of the fun shiny stuff. And you're a boy, so you're not allowed and you don't understand why because gender means nothing to you.
Billy wants an Easter dress.
Okay, stop right there. I'm not buying him a dress even if he wailed about it (and he did). Yes, I made him a pink hat because he asked for one and pink is his favorite color. But, no. I won't be buying him a dress.
However, this is where I launch into a tirade at the kids clothing manufacturers. The only places I have ever been able to find decent holiday garb for a boy have been in the boutique shops. No, I don't want my little boy to look like a girl. But I would like him to look festive.
Hoodies for Christmas?
Jeans for Easter???
What kind of example are we setting for our young men if this is the height of fashion to aspire to? That dressing up means hoodies and jeans? Those are great for the playground. But where are the holiday vests, the sweet little sweaters, the seersucker suits?
I'm not talking dressing little boys up like they are ready for a drag show. But what about some frills for the boys? Why not?
I have half a mind to start making my own clothes for my son, just so he can have some simple, yet elegant detailing that he desires.
For the girls there are beautiful dress in vibrant colors or pastels. Each one has more decoration than the next. The have glitter, iridescence, bows, embroidery, jewels and lots of other frills.
For the boys they have jeans to match either plaid dress shirts or rugby shirts, or polos with plaid shorts. Whomp, whomp.
And now imagine that you are two AND a boy. Imagine that sinking feeling when you realize that girls get all the cool colors and all of the fun shiny stuff. And you're a boy, so you're not allowed and you don't understand why because gender means nothing to you.
Billy wants an Easter dress.
Okay, stop right there. I'm not buying him a dress even if he wailed about it (and he did). Yes, I made him a pink hat because he asked for one and pink is his favorite color. But, no. I won't be buying him a dress.
However, this is where I launch into a tirade at the kids clothing manufacturers. The only places I have ever been able to find decent holiday garb for a boy have been in the boutique shops. No, I don't want my little boy to look like a girl. But I would like him to look festive.
Hoodies for Christmas?
Jeans for Easter???
What kind of example are we setting for our young men if this is the height of fashion to aspire to? That dressing up means hoodies and jeans? Those are great for the playground. But where are the holiday vests, the sweet little sweaters, the seersucker suits?
I'm not talking dressing little boys up like they are ready for a drag show. But what about some frills for the boys? Why not?
I have half a mind to start making my own clothes for my son, just so he can have some simple, yet elegant detailing that he desires.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)