The 3 of us are playing in Bear's room when Thumper spits up, as Thumper often does, then proceeds to finger paint with the white puddle. I move him a couple of feet away before heading to the dresser for a diaper to wipe it up with. As I turn back around, I notice that the small chunk of avocado from his lunch, which previously graced the center of the urp, is now missing. Bear makes a face, then shudders.
"Bear, did you just put that in your mouth?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Bear, that is disgusting. Your brother threw that up! You don't put that in your mouth!"
"Sorry, mommy."
9.28.2007
My boy is brilliant
We were having an afternoon snack today when the mailman walked up to the porch, announcing himself as usual with a loud cell phone conversation in a language I can't identify. "Mail's here Mom!" yelled Bear. He followed me to the door with the expectation that every mail delivery will contain one of his favorite Birthday Express or Oriental Trading Company catologs. The best I could offer him today is the latest Smithsonian, which luckily features "Denizens of the Deep" (or, weird sea creatures.) I sat down with him on the couch to to find the correct pages. "This is an anglerfish" I point out, turning the pages. "And here is a jelly fish." "That is a gumpothus kind of octopus" Bear said, pointing to a blue blob. I glance at the caption. Did he really just say that? No, that can't be. "What did you say, Bear?" "That's a gumpothus octopus." I read the caption again:
Grimpoteuthis, a type of Dumbo octopus, lives in every ocean.
I have no idea where he got that.
9.05.2007
The Not so Common Loon
Last Halloween, when I was still convinced that Bear was going to start speaking in full sentences and join his typically-developing peers in willfulness any day, I took him with me on an expedition to Old Navy to purchase a halloween costume. I had already been online and previewed the selection, and was pretty confident that I would be able to manipulate my oblivious toddler into bending to my will. Although he had experienced Halloween twice before, it was clear that he did not remember it and would not understand what the costume was for until Halloween itself had arrived. Luckily, Bear and I were on the same page, and as we entered the children's area of the store, he made a beeline for the brown felt monkey with a banana in its pocket. I was triumphant. And I knew that this would most likely be the last time that I would have a say in what costume he would wear. My only hope was that the next one would not be Spider Man.
Nearly a year later, with Halloween again approaching and Bear still retaining a more or less easy-going attitude, I began to fantasize that I might have my way again just one more year. So yesterday, I went online to troll the Old Navy website for ideas, and there it was: a pirate. Not a swab-the-deck, striped shirt and bandana pirate costume, but a swashbuckling pirate captain with a stand-up pirate hat, double-breasted coat and ruffled sleeves. Sort of Captain Hook, without the hook. Immediately my mind was off, and within an hour I had planned Thumper's corresponding parrot costume. A pair of red blanket pajamas adorned with multi-colored felt feathers should do it. Now I just had to work out the details of a red hood with a felt beak and eyes, to be velcroed under the chin.
When Bear returned home from school, as we sat talking about his day (or as far as "I ride the bus with John"), I decided to broach the subject. "So, Bear, what do you want to be for Halloween?" I asked. "I want to be a loon." Dammit. His father had already gotten to him after the last issue of Your Big Backyard, featuring the "Not so Common Loon," and a fun loon costume that can be crafted from a paper plates and black paint. Aside from the questionable wisdom of taking a child out after dark dressed entirely in black, the lax structural integrity of a paper plate costume, and the fact that it is creepy looking, the loon costume is not an entirely bad idea. But I had already fallen in love with the idea of a pirate and his parrot. "Well, Thumper and I were talking about it this morning, and we were thinking that maybe you would want to be a pirate. Would you like that?" "No, I want to be a loon."
About this time, the mail man came, bringing with him the latest children's catalog filled with pictures of halloween costumes. I scanned the pages for a pirate that I could use for visual support. Bear took the catalog out of my hands and lay down on the floor. "Bear, come here" I said, leading him to the computer. "Look at this pirate costume" "Yeah!" "Do you like that?" "Yeah!" Would you like to be a pirate?" "No, I want to be a tiger." Oh. The catalog had successfully steered him away from the idea of being a loon, and he was now attached to what I had to admit was a very attractive tiger costume. "And maybe Thumper can be like a owl." I hadn't counted on this. I knew the day would come when Bear would be choosing his own costume, but I thought at least I would have a few more years with Thumper. Now Bear was choosing for the both of them.
Hmm... an owl isn't too different from a parrot. Brown blanket pajamas, perhaps. Brown felt feathers. I can do this.
Nearly a year later, with Halloween again approaching and Bear still retaining a more or less easy-going attitude, I began to fantasize that I might have my way again just one more year. So yesterday, I went online to troll the Old Navy website for ideas, and there it was: a pirate. Not a swab-the-deck, striped shirt and bandana pirate costume, but a swashbuckling pirate captain with a stand-up pirate hat, double-breasted coat and ruffled sleeves. Sort of Captain Hook, without the hook. Immediately my mind was off, and within an hour I had planned Thumper's corresponding parrot costume. A pair of red blanket pajamas adorned with multi-colored felt feathers should do it. Now I just had to work out the details of a red hood with a felt beak and eyes, to be velcroed under the chin.
When Bear returned home from school, as we sat talking about his day (or as far as "I ride the bus with John"), I decided to broach the subject. "So, Bear, what do you want to be for Halloween?" I asked. "I want to be a loon." Dammit. His father had already gotten to him after the last issue of Your Big Backyard, featuring the "Not so Common Loon," and a fun loon costume that can be crafted from a paper plates and black paint. Aside from the questionable wisdom of taking a child out after dark dressed entirely in black, the lax structural integrity of a paper plate costume, and the fact that it is creepy looking, the loon costume is not an entirely bad idea. But I had already fallen in love with the idea of a pirate and his parrot. "Well, Thumper and I were talking about it this morning, and we were thinking that maybe you would want to be a pirate. Would you like that?" "No, I want to be a loon."
About this time, the mail man came, bringing with him the latest children's catalog filled with pictures of halloween costumes. I scanned the pages for a pirate that I could use for visual support. Bear took the catalog out of my hands and lay down on the floor. "Bear, come here" I said, leading him to the computer. "Look at this pirate costume" "Yeah!" "Do you like that?" "Yeah!" Would you like to be a pirate?" "No, I want to be a tiger." Oh. The catalog had successfully steered him away from the idea of being a loon, and he was now attached to what I had to admit was a very attractive tiger costume. "And maybe Thumper can be like a owl." I hadn't counted on this. I knew the day would come when Bear would be choosing his own costume, but I thought at least I would have a few more years with Thumper. Now Bear was choosing for the both of them.
Hmm... an owl isn't too different from a parrot. Brown blanket pajamas, perhaps. Brown felt feathers. I can do this.
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