-----A few days ago Simon was drinking some water and purposely dribbled about 1/4 cup down the front of his shirt. He then asked me to change his shirt, a request I refused out of sheer irritation with the previous act. Simon proceeded to beg for a clean shirt. I assured him it would dry shortly. Ten minutes later, it appeared the incident was behind us.
Simon told me he had to go potty and went upstairs to go by himself. Soon I heard a whiny voice beseeching me: "Mommy, change my shirt! My arms are wet!" Yes, indeed, his arms were very wet.
"Simon, where have these arms been? How did these arms get wet?"
"I put them in the potty."
So, Simon got his clean shirt. Simon - 1, Mommy - 0.
-----I think I mentioned that I'm doing Weight Watchers online. So far it's going pretty well. I've had some good weeks and some bad. I struggle a lot with the snacking bug. One obvious solution would be to stop buying snacks. Trouble is, now that I have a boot-wearing, constantly-hungry working man for a husband, the snacks are a must. For this reason, I went to the store yesterday with a mission: I wanted to buy snacks that Nate likes but I do not. Among other things, I bought some pork rinds.
Nate used to eat pork rinds when we were first married. I found the sight, the smell, and the very idea of them thoroughly disgusting. I belly-ached enough, and he stopped buying them. So when he saw them in the cupboard yesterday, he was understandably surprised.
"Pork rinds? Whoa. What's that about?"
"Well, you know, I wanted to get stuff that I knew I wouldn't be tempted to eat."
"This might be the nicest thing you've ever done for me."
So there you have it: pork rinds as sentimental gesture.
-----Today at Target there was a woman in front of me at the service desk arguing with the cashier about her return. Despite the large sign behind the desk declaring the need for a receipt, she was miffed about receiving her return in the form of a gift card for $5.60 instead of the cash she had paid. She said there wasn't one thing she wanted to buy in that store (really? you don't use toothpaste? toilet paper? deodorant? bread? milk?) and demanded to see the manager.
When the manager arrived, the grouchy lady got the exact same answer. Upon hearing the predictable, "Unfortunately, our store policy is blah blah blah," ol' crochety asked for the phone number of someone higher up. Then she added, "And you'll be hearing from my lawyer about a civil suit."
I think I may have laughed out loud. I love the thought of this woman being unwilling to lose her $5 cash, but willing to pay lawyer's fees to stick it to Target. I'm sure she'll carry through with that threat, and when she does she'll get 'em good.
It's nice to be next in line after someone like that because damn if you don't seem like the sweetest person in a cashier's life at that moment.
-----Every night after Nate gives Simon his bath, they come downstairs to put on jammies. He's nearly always wrapped in a blue hippopotamus towel and, if he is, he'll tell me, "There's a hippo in your house!"
Then we try to put on his pajamas. For whatever reason, this is a real squirrelly time of night for him, and he tends to try to run away from us, in all his naked glory, squandering countless minutes when he could be in bed and we could be vegging in front of the tellie.
To trick him into standing still, sometimes we try to tell stories, stories we make up. It can be difficult, but it helps to involve Simon in the process. That way he is engaged more fully and it gives you a place to start. Last night we asked him what our story should be about.
"About puppies. About big and small puppies."
"Okay. Where do the puppies live?"
"In a basket."
"Do you know their names? Who are the big puppies?"
"Scooby Doo and Scooby Ront."
"Okay, and who are the small puppies?"
"Scooby Pbbbt P. and Scooby Pbbbt Music and Scooby Pbbbt Pants."
note: Pbbbt is a sound made with vibrating lips. sort of like a horse-blowing-flies-off-his-face-noise. you know what i mean, right?
The rest of the story was pretty decent. It involved the puppies being scared by and then befriending a T. Rex. But the best part were definitely the names.
After three times of saying all those weird, spit-shooting names, we were all in stitches. Especially Simon. It was gold, pure comic gold. And maybe one of my most fun parenting moments ever.