Orange wagon wheels

Ethan decided that he wanted to cook today. Fortunately, Ethan is into pretend food so we can encourage his culinary talents without having messes to clean up. After rummaging through the pot cupboard, he found an old alumninum pot. He told me the piano bench was a pretend oven and proceeded to cook. Actually, most of our furniture became a pretend oven at some point since Ethan kept moving the pot away from Scott's curious little hands.

All afternoon he served me pretend quesadillas and pretend ham pizza. Of course, I had to praise his excellent cooking skills and commend him on the flavor. After our family dinner (the real one) Ethan decided make us dessert: "pretend orange candies that look like wagon wheels." We had to take his word on it because they were invisible to us.

I told him that I thought they tasted really great... umm... like creamsicles, I guessed.

"Oh," said Mrs. M, "I thought they tasted a little sour."

What are orange candies that look like wagon wheels supposed taste like? We decided to ask the chef.

"Ethan, what does your candy taste like?"

Looking around, he answered thoughtfully, "Hmmm ... mine tastes like ... chicken."

Yum!

You know you've been a grouch when...

My early morning meeting got me home around 9 am. Ethan had a little tantrum when I arrived, but I was ready, thanks to some late night counseling with Mr Moo. I ignored the whining and screaming and picked up the smiling Scottmarshmallow who was toddling around after me: "Hi! Hi! Hi!" It's his word of choice.

Ethan calmed down pretty quickly and came out to the table. Meanwhile, I had written BREATHE on the whiteboard. I offered him a granola bar, since the babysitter mentioned that he had refused breakfast. Low blood sugar is a bad thing at our house. He accepted and asked, "Mom, why are you staying happy today?"

Yikes. 9 am and he is surprised that I haven't flown off the handle by now. I have been really edgy lately. Mr Moo suggested that it could be because I just weaned Scott - maybe that puts hormones in flux. That makes me a weaner and Scott a weanee, I suppose. Bring on the energy! But, back to my point. I knelt down next to Ethan's chair and told him, "Ethan, I need your help today. If you see me getting angry, please pat me on the arm and tell me to breathe."

"Mom, what happens if I tell you to seethe?" he asked.

I explained that seething was being really angry inside and I wanted to be calm and happy. "What happens if I tell you to breathe?" he asked. "Then I breathe like this - in through my nose, out through my mouth - and I feel better." "What happens if you're angry and I tell you to breathe?" "I breathe like this and I feel better."

So far, I haven't needed it. And on my side I've got me, Mr Moo, my prayers, the whiteboard, and Ethan. At the end of the day, I hope to say: "Indeed I have conquered!"

Glamour shots

These photos are inspired by the Wiz. Guess which one is before and which is after. The one good thing is 3 months later, he hasn't needed a haircut yet!

Thank heaven for 3 year olds

A few weeks ago, on a lovely Saturday afternoon, I was out and about with the boys and my mom, who happened to be visiting. As we pulled into our carport, tired and hungry, much to our dismay, we realized that the apartment keys were INSIDE the apartment. Wretched me, I had left them on top of the shoe shelf as we left! While I went to see if there was a way in, Mom stayed in the car with the boys, in case we had to go chase down a spare key from the management company, which would have been dicey seeing that it was a Saturday and they were closed. We couldn't ask the manager for a spare key because WE are the managers. Yikes!

I surveyed the apartment, tried one of the front windows, to no avail. We were doomed to more driving, or so I thought until I came around to the bathroom window. Because I hate steamy bathrooms, the window was open just a crack. It was way over my head and a small window, but I had an idea.

I ran back to the car, shared my idea with Mom and brought Ethan back to the apartment with me. I managed to remove the screen from the bathroom window, push it open wider, and boost Ethan up through the window. He then had to drop down onto the bathroom counter and climb down to the floor, come out to the front door, and unlock it for me.

Things went fine until Ethan was inside the bathroom and out of sight. I heard his wails: "Mom, I don't want to open the door. Mom, I don't want to be in the bathroom. Mom! I want you!" It's hard to comfort a howling 3 year old when it requires outdoing his volume. I'm sure the whole neighborhood heard my shouted pleas: "Ethan, go out to the door. I can't get in unless you unlock the door. Please, Ethan, go open the door! You have to do it by yourself."

All I got was the same wailing from him. I had to give up and go to the front door and knock, hoping that would entice him. (He usually runs to fling open the door if anyone knocks, a somewhat dangerous practice I'm trying to eliminate.) Finally, after 10 minutes of his crying and my knocking, he unlocked the door and we were home again. When we recounted all to Mr Moo later that evening, he was duly impressed with Ethan's successful implementation of my break-in idea. Which bring me to the title of this post - thank heaven for 3 year olds!

A plain peanut butter sandwich

At lunch today, Ethan requested "a plain peanut butter sandwich".

"You mean, one with creamy peanut butter as opposed to chunky?" I sought confirmation because as everyone knows, a hungry 3 year old who doesn't get his order is likely to enter tantrum mode.

"No, I want a piece of bread folded like this." Here, he showed me by holding his hands out flat next to each other like an open book and then closing them together.

"You mean you want a piece of bread?"

Almost indignant: "No, NOT a piece of bread, a plain peanut butter sandwich!" The unspoken words were Mom, how could you think I meant that?!

I gave him a piece of bread, folded it as per his instructions, and handed it over. Plain peanut butter sandwich, indeed! Where does the peanut butter come in? I'm still wondering.