QOTD: The NFL

Two barbecue sandwiches and a Tiki Barber jersey?
Living the dream!

My son has big dreams. Though he can't figure out how to entertain himself for the one hour in the afternoon between getting home and me ending my work day, he has a full plan for his eventual profession.

Actually, Javi has a full plan and six back-up plans. The main career goal? Playing in the NFL, of course.

When visiting my sister in the hospital this weekend, he and I had lots of one-on-one time in the car and walking back and forth to the parking deck. He chose to fill it -- all of it -- with reminders of his inevitable success.

Javi: One day you're going to like watching football.

Me: No I won't.

J: Oh yes you will.

Me: Seriously. I have no interest, and haven't had any interest in 35 years.

J: You'll love it when I'm playing. You won't be able to stop yourself.

He had me on that one. Both his charming belief in himself and how he smiled and winked when he said the words. I started liking it just a tad right then.

But then later it was pouring rain and I didn't want him to walk with me to the car. I wanted to leave him in the hospital lobby, thus avoiding his meltdown when he got wet and had to be uncomfortable for the ride home. But he's impulsive and immature. He'd be ripe for the picking for any pedophile (yes, I watch a lot of Criminal Minds).

And so I had a fast and furious talk with him to ensure he'd still be where I left him after parking the car and sprinting back in the downpour.

Me: You sit in that chair and you don't get up. Not for anyone. I don't care if the person is wearing scrubs or if someone says "Your Mom said to come with me" or the person looks like a police officer. You don't move, do you understand?

J: Yes. (Said in a bored voice)

Me: Even if it's a kid who looks super cool and says he has something really awesome to show you and you should just go with him for a minute and your mom will never know. You don't go. If it's that cool, just wait a few minutes cause I'll be there as quickly as I can and we'll look at it together. Okay?

J: Yes. (Said in an exasperated voice)

Me: Are you listening? Because someone could try to take you. And if they take you, something terrible could happen to you.

J: Don't worry, mom. If I let someone kidnap me or kill me, I won't get to have my NFL career. I don't want to miss that! My NFL career is gonna be awesome, especially with me being as awesome as I am.

What do you even say to that? May his words be a mantra that gets him where he wants to be. (I don't know where his sense of self came from, but I wish I could bottle it.)

Oh, and his black-up plans? If the NFL doesn't pan out (like it won't?!), he's okay with being an MBA player (see: self-esteem, above), an architect, an engineer, a writer, an art teacher, or a chocolatier.

Big dreams, this one.

What dreams have your kiddos voiced lately?

Today's post is part of Momalom's Five-for-Five. The topic is "Words."

It's also part of Heather of the EO's "Just Write."

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QOTD: Imagination, Year 4

It's been another of those weeks, but I have no complaints. And I'll soon be sharing some really fantastic news with everyone. In the meantime, I realized it's been forever since I posted a few "kids say the darnedest things" anecdotes -- and there are some really good ones happening these days.

Bella is on the tail-end of Year 4, and I adore this age. She's still sweet and cuddly but she's whip smart and learning new things every day.

Bella and her "baby" Wormy, who she tells me was born from her leg and that's why he's so long.

However, her imagination is also growing my leaps and bounds, making it easier for her to develop story lines and make spurious connections that leave me shaking my head in wonder at this amazing child of mine.

Example 1: This week, I had to meet with my friend Sara who’s also a lawyer. She had agreed to file some paperwork for me, but we had to meet after school hours. That meant I showed up towing my 2:30pm-to-7:30pm shadow, known in the wild as Bella.

Despite my fear that she’d be ridiculous, she was only a mild disturbance and most of her interruptions were out of curiosity. Because I don’t like indulging her with serious answers (which only lead to more questions) in adult situations, my standard answer to complicated questions is, "the elves did it," which normally quiets her because OF COURSE the elves did it.

I used this excuse several times during my meeting with Sara and again when I dropped by a different office to sign some other papers. Both of these offices contained one distinct and matching item: a red foam high heel (as both women are members of the same women’s professional group).

Later, Bella explained her afternoon to the Mountain Man this way:

Daddy, we went to Mrs. Sara’s and there was a red high heel and it had glitter on it because her elf wears glitter and then we went to another lady’s room and she had a red high heel too but it didn’t have any glitter but it did have rat traps but only the bad elfs have to eat the rats from the trap and Murray Grace is NOT a bad elf.

All in one breath and with big eyes and a knowing grin. Because there are secrets in this world -- secrets like elves -- and she knows them. Because her imagination allows her to create twists and turns without the heavy weight of logic.

(And note that I didn't notice the traps. The woman whose office has the traps did mention they had discovered some field mice and had put out live traps. Bella must've absorbed this information, though she never commented on it nor discussed it with me later.)

Example #2: Javi learned a new joke. He points in the general direction of something that has an underside, such as the seat of a booth in a restaurant. Then he asks someone, "What’s under there?" The person is supposed to reply, "Under where?" -- which is HILARIOUS because it’s "underwear." Right?

Okay, so he asked 50 million times and we never said "Under where?" so he finally broke down and explained it. Then this happened:

Bella: You didn’t ask me, Jav!
Javi: Okay. What’s under there? [points under Bella’s seat]
Bella: Panties!

Everyone but Javi found that hilarious. Javi let us know he would NOT be playing with us anymore.

Now share. What are you loving about your child's stage of development? What's your favorite anecdote from the week?

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QOTD: Yep.

There's a well-known fact amongst our circle of friends: Without the benefit of their wives, our husbands couldn't plan their way out of a paper bag.

Therefore, whenever one tries to schedule a "boys' night out," there's invariably a wife (or three) working hard behind the scenes: calling other wives, making lists, coming up with suggestions, smoothing out all the barriers to said night. (Surely this is the way of wifedom, right?) For our group, "boys' night out" is usually a camping trip. It's one night, without wives or children, in a camper at the local lake. They pick a day ... and then the wives take over.

We make the reservations, communicate about who's bringing what, buy all the fixins for a camp lunch and a grilled-to-perfection dinner, stock the camper with sunscreen and bug spray, and make sure everyone has at least two clean towels and enough freshly laundered sheets and blankets.

It's a process that the men don't even notice. You'd think there was a camping fairy who waved her magic wand and created ideal conditions for them. No fairies. Just wives.

But sometimes the husbands get tired of hearing the wives joke at their expense -- which is the only way the wives know to deal with zero acknowledgement or appreciation. So the wives poke and laugh and blow out their breath. And the husbands roll their eyes and ... well, that's about it. But their exasperation is known.

And so, my individual husband asked me not so politely to butt out. He had this crazy idea that he didn't need my planning or communication skills. I heard his message loud and clear and have left the whole process to him.

That's why he's going man camping this weekend ... maybe. He's not exactly sure what's happening because he's had to communicate and plan all by himself. In fact, he thought the other husband had backed out and was planning to go with the kids instead. Why? Because of this conversation-via-text:

The other husband: Wanna go Friday or Saturday?
My husband: Not sure yet.
My husband: Thinking Friday too.
The other husband: Suppose to rain. Might want to do it another weekend.
My husband: Yep.

And that was the entire conversation. Yep. And off both these husbands went on their ways.

The other husband's interpretation: Saturday night only. My husband's interpretation: Friday night without his buddy, so take the kids instead.

Guess where my husband found out about the differing interpretation? Facebook. Last night. Days after the kids began dancing around and making elaborate lists of what they'll do with their one night and half day of camping with dad. Lists that require you check off each action as you do it.

I have no idea what the new plan is. I'm guessing with two men scheduling it, they aren't quite sure what the new plan is either. What I am sure of is that text conversation (if you can call it that) is exactly the reason I still do all the vacation planning, school communicating, and friendly gathering scheduling.

Yep.

Only a husband.

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QOTD: Words of wisdom

My big kid is turning 10 in one week. Four school days. One weekend. Eight straight days. 192 hours. 11,520 seconds. And he'll be 10. Ten years of Javi.

In those ten years, he's learned enough to drop some genuine gems of wisdom. Allow me to share them with you.

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A fellow student who's younger than Javi complained that his parents don't love him. If they loved him, the student posited, they'd buy him the things he wants.

J: You're only 8. You don't understand the meaning and concept of parents and the things they do. No one does.

:::::::::::::::::::

After relaying this story to me, Javi shared that he was slightly confused by the kid's parents' actions.

J: But, mama. They live in a house. If they live in a house, why don't they buy toys for their son?

Me: Maybe they spend all their money living in their house and paying the bills for it, like the heat and water. And then they have to buy food to go in the house, too. So maybe they don't have leftover money to buy toys.

J: Like poor people?

Me: They could be poor, or they could choose not to spend their extra money on toys. Maybe they save for vacations or for when [the kid] goes to college.

J: They're probably poor, like Daddy's life was. When I become President, I'm going to give some of my money to the homeless and to the poor and I'm going to ask everybody to help give money to the homeless and the poor for their food, their healthiness and their homes.

Me: That's really great, baby.

J: And when that happens and I'm still President, I'm going to ask everyone who was poor to come up on the stand and say how good they feel to have their new life and their new homes, food, and all that stuff to help their bodies. And then I'll say, well let's have a celebration.

Me: A celebration?

J: Yeah, to show what a great President I am.

:::::::::::::::::::

After further discussion on the point of being a president and the role a president plays in our government, Javi began asking people what they would want him to accomplish as president. He then reported back to me.

J: Okay, I know what else I'll do as President.

Me: Let's hear it.

J: I made a speech. [unfolds paper] "We need to fight to stop the bad people on commercials. They keep telling us to give them money when they know their stuff doesn't even work. We order it and it doesn't work but they won't give anyone their money back. That's wrong and your President is fighting to stop it."

Me: Hm. Okay, that's a really interesting platform. What made you think of commercials?

J: It's not a platform, it's a speech. And Daddy told me all about it when I wouldn't stop asking for a Fushigi.

:::::::::::::::::::

Unrelated to his future career in politics, Javi was introduced to stepping this week. He was fascinated by it and his body started moving with the music. 

Me: Would you like to learn to do this? I know where they have lessons.

J: No.

Me: Are you sure? I bet you'd like it.

J: Mama, just because you like something doesn't mean you should do it. You have to have watchers, too. If everyone is doing it, then there's no one watching it, and then who'd clap?

Me: ....

J: I would be fantastic at it, though. I have great rhythm.

:::::::::::::::::::

And later, when I was relaying this story to the Mountain Man.

J: That's not what I said.

Me: Yes it is. I was there, I heard you.

J: Well, I guess you just don't know how to translate my language then.

:::::::::::::::::::

And lest you think Meanie Weenie has been silent, I give you my most recent favorite: "Mama, I don't want Santa to figure out I'm mean. Let's don't talk about it, okay?" You got it kiddo.

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QOTD: Tacos

I'm drowning in work: deadlines for the paid stuff, fielding calls for the city's holiday parade (that I wound up managing), kids home from school, dogs stalking the chickens .... and the list goes on. I'm barely surviving. Enter my children.

******

Me (to my sister while wading through work crap and spotting the term): Hey, Ash. How would you like to have a hypersensitive clitoris?
Bella: I'm having tacos!
*silence and giggling*
Bella: What? I am having tacos. I don't want no yeeforish.

******

Javi: Mama, how many syllables are in happiness?
Me: How many do you think?
Javi: 3?
Me: That's correct.
Javi: Dad marked it wrong.
Me: Let me see what you have.
(visual: ha-ppi-ness)
Me: That's not how you break it up. Which sounds right: happ-i-ness or ha-pi-ness?
*everyone begins laughing uncontrollably*

******

I totally needed that.

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QOTD: Thankful

Her moon face close to mine
whispering or yelling or demanding attention
at all hours of my days:

It's mornin' time, mama. Wake up!
Peel dis owange wight now, mama!
Wanna pway pwinces in my woom?
Whew, mama, yo breaf is stinky!
I'm pwayin songs on my china!
Grass monkey monkey, that funny monkey
I am not poopin' in my panties
Yets snuggle up, mama. Okay, mama?
Uh oh. Yook what Javi did!
You watchin' me wock out, mama?

I am so thankful for my girl,
Meanie-Weenie-Evirella-sweet-potato-pie.
She's so uniquely and achingly herself
and yet she illuminates and articulates  
me in ways I'm still learning.
I need this proof of belonging
all the days of my life.

***This post is part of Intentional Happiness, Feel Good Fridays, Six Word Fridays, and Saturday Grateful.***

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Away, with quotes

Monday gets a bad rap. Today marks the beginning of the week and the end of July, and it has given me several reasons to smile. Here are two:

#1

Javi: Am I still going to camp today?
Me: Actually, you have the summer reading program pool party from 12-2 and then cooking camp from 2-4 and then tonight you have basketball clinic from 6-8. Full day!
Javi: Um, mom? That seems like a lot for one day.
Me: Well, it's just today that's so busy.
Javi: I think I'll skip the pool party. I can swim anytime I want and I'm really more excited for the cooking camp.
Me: Uh. Are you sure? Because I'm not going to push you. If you miss it, you miss it.
Javi: Yeah, I'm sure. I don't do so well when you make me do so much in one day.
Me: Huh.

#2

Bella: Do I get to do kindergarten today?
Me: Yep. Which workbook do you want?
Bella: The one with chickies! I love chickies.
Me: Grab the book and come get in my lap.
Bella: No, mama. You my teacher. You s'pose to get my book, put it on a table, and say to me "Okay, class. Let's get to work!" That's kindergarten.
Me: Well, then, you're not in kindergarten. You're in pre-school.
Bella: I love pre-school! Pre-school means play-dough! But we still have to go to a table.
Me: Welcome to kindergarten. I'll find you a little table to work at.
Bella: Don't forget my chickies!

And so it goes. I'll be typing away furiously to meet some deadlines while being schooled on parenting by one and schooled on school by the other. If your Monday permits, come visit me at Loving My Panda Bear. I'd love to get some comments on my post all about the tyranny of Year Three!

***This post is part of the 30-minute blog challenge and ShoutLaughLove.***

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QOTD: Working from home, Santa, and broken glass

My kids (affectionately known as "the warlords") have been by my side every day of summer except for the glorious five days Javi was away for camp. Because of our frustratingly close proximity, I've experienced some pretty awesome quotes straight from sassy little mouths. Enjoy.

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After having to push two sets of hands, a deck of Scooby Doo cards, a grungy pink sandal, the Wii-mote, an empty Gatorade bottle, and miscellaneous crayons out of my face:
Me: "You have to stop shoving things in my face. I am AT WORK."
Bella: "No, you not at work. You AT HOME." (Imagine her moonface and saucer eyes.)
Javi: "Yeah. On the computer is not AT WORK." (Imagine his eyeballs rolling around on the floor.)

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

After hearing me talk to a friend who watched the kids so I could go on the radio to talk about my side project:
Javi: "You were on the radio?" (Imagine pure confusion.)
Me: "Yep, this morning. That's why you're here."
Javi: "Like ON THE RADIO? Why? You're not famous. You don't even wear pants or brush your hair." (Imagine 9-year-old righteous indignation.)

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

After hearing the sound of broken glass being moved around (because I put it in the middle of the table to keep it safe from the kids, but she found it while I was in the bathroom):
Me: "Bella May, if you don't leave that glass alone and go back to your tray to eat your breakfast, I'm going to spank your bum."
Bella: "Okay. Just not too hard, Mom!"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

After asking why Javi needed to write a letter to Santa in the middle of July:
Javi: "Time is running out, Mama. First I gotta get the letter to the mail box. You know mail runs so slow and this letter has to get all the way to the North Pole. Then Santa has to send me a letter back and then he has to call you to see what I can have. And then the elves have to make everything and then Santa has to deliver it."
Me: "Oh."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

After allowing both kids to make Christmas lists:
Me: "Remember to only ask for a few things you really want."
Javi: "That's what I did. I only asked for a real monkey and clothes to dress him in, a red PSP, an American flag electric guitar, an American flag laptop, and a golden statue of myself."
Me: "Those are the few things?"
Javi: "Yep."
Bella: "An I want a real monkey, too. And a real horse named 'Phonso and a real girl named PeePee.* And some gummies. And a movie featre."
Me: "Guess Santa's gonna be busy."
Javi: "Now do you see why we have to mail these now?" (Imagine pure 9-year-old exasperation.)

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

While being forced to entertain herself and doing so by writing pretend letters:
Bella: "Dear Grandma. I love you very much. Dear Grandma. Come pick me up. If you need me, I'll call. Dear Grandma. If you need me to come pick you up, I will come. Dear Grandma. I will need you if I need you. Dear Grandma. If you want to pick me up, I will go."
Me: "Is Javi writing those for you?"
Bella: "No, I'm writing them in my brain."
Me: "That's too funny!"
Bella: "It is not funny. Dear PeePee. I love my Grandma. My mama is not funny. Come pick me up."
Me: "Do you want someone to come get you?"
Bella: "Duh, mama." (Imagine pure 3-year-old exasperation.)

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

*My child has discovered The New Adventures of Pippi Longstocking and is already talking about being Pippi for Halloween (in between demands to be a wolf). I haven't had to watch Barbie in The Nutcracker in at least a week. That's one of the brightest spots of the summer!

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QOTD: On Wednesday

I left my house at 4:45 pm yesterday to pick up my friend, my mom, and my mom's friend and make our way two counties over to see The Color Purple (which was fantastic). I didn't get home until 12:45 am and wasn't asleep until 1:30 am.

Hence, I was seriously dragging this morning. At what felt ridiculously early but was really 8 am, I opened my eyes and there was a big girl moon face one centimeter from my nose. I have no idea how long she had been there, but she was just staring at me. I jerked back and she said, "Hey mama! I got my Wensnay!"

Me: Your what?
Bella: My Wensnay! WENSNAY!

I decided to leave it alone and just began the process of getting us both out the door and to her school in time. Every time I'd try to move her along (let's get dressed, hold still so I can fix your hair, yes you have to brush your teeth), she'd say "I sure do yub my Wensnay!"

Finally we were ready to go. I was buckling her into her car seat when it came to a head.

Bella: You yike my wensnay, mom?

Me: Honey, I don't know what your wensnay is.

Bella: No. My WENSNAY.

Me: Your Wednesday?

Bella: Yep. I yub it.

Me: Today is Wednesday. You love today?

Bella: No, not today! My wensnay. It my favowite.

Me: Where is your Wednesday?

And that child. That child of mine. Totally pointed at her vagina, which we call her 'china' and which she's been obsessed with lately ... to the point that the Mountain Man has threatened to put it in a box and lock it in a closet.

She pointed at it said, "My daddy told me I gotta pud away my 'shynah, so I callin dis my wensnay!"

Lord help us.

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QOTD: Bossy babies

I spent an hour designing and distributing the invitation for Bella's third birthday party, coming up in two Saturdays.That hour happened to be between 12:30 a.m. and 1 a.m. this morning, which means I then watched two episodes of Roseanne before I could fall asleep. Fast forward to 7:30 a.m. when my youngest monster poked her face right into mine.

Me: Uhh, hmm, mornin' baby.
Bella: I waked up. It mornin' so I waked up.
Me: Uh huh. Mama's still sleepy.
Bella: I not sweepy. I waked up. I want chocyut miyilk and ceruhl wid miyilk in a bowl. And I wanna fwy my kite and pway in the campah. Okay, mama?
Me: Uhhemm. How 'bout Elliot Moose?
Bella: Ehweeot Moose is on da yoose?
Me: Uh huh.
Bella: That's not fwyin' kites or pwayin' or eatin'.
Me: Umhmm. Let's turn it on.
Bella: You not bein' the best mom ever. You bein' sweepy mama. You need waked up yike me. You bein' wazy.
Me: Okay meanie. No birthday party for you.
Bella: Oh, mama. You bad mama. You not best mom ever. You is havin' my kite birthday party! I'm gonna go tell my daddy right now!
Me: That's it. No more Elliot Moose for you. Go on back to your room and play.
Bella: I yuv Ehweeot Moose! Him's on the yoose! I watch him right now. RIGHT NOW, Mama. I still tellin' my daddy, dough.

And so began my day.

Lessons learned: Be prepared to wake up at the crack dawn with a starving and bossy child. Offering a beloved but creepy children's show won't work, but threatening to take it away will. It's impossible to sleep through a tiny monster singing, "Ehweeot Moose! Him's on the yoose. Ehweeot Moose! Him's on the yoose. Ehweeot Moose! Him's on the yoose. Ehweeot Moose is on the yoose. Ehweeot Ehweeot Ehweeot Ehweeot Ehweeot Ehweeot..,." You get the picture.

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QOTD: Hot chocolate

Javi burst through the door after school today with some news:

Javi: I had another great day, Mama!
Me: Awesome job. That's four days in a row.
Javi: I know, I'm doing really good. But, now five girls like me!
Me: Five? Wow. How do you know they like you?
Javi: They told me and they chase me and they call me "hot chocolate."
Me: (between laughs) Hot chocolate? Why in the world are they calling you hot chocolate?
Javi: I don't know. I guess because I'm hot and sweet and I do have these brown eyes.
Me: Well alright, then, hot chocolate. Looks like we have a new nickname for you.
Javi: Mama! Do not call me hot chocolate. You can even call me Stinkerbelle before you call me hot chocolate.
Me: Calm down, chocolate stinkerbelle.
Javi: Oh, no, Mama. You can't call me that. Now it sounds like poop!
Me: Hm. Are you sure you know why they call you hot chocolate? Maybe it's their version of Stinkerbelle. You are wearing brown today.
Javi: No, I'm sure it's because I'm hot. Like, 100 percent sure. Especially with my brown eyes.

100 percent, people.


I will never again question the hotness.

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QOTD: Elbow grease

It's been a long week. Javi got into some major trouble at school last week and again on Tuesday (that I'm not quite ready to talk about) and then behaved horribly at my nephew's school Christmas program. Bella has been screamy and stabby and off for a few days. So, sitting down to dinner last night after a good 12 hours for both of them was a huge relief.

I suppose the levity of the evening loosened Javi's mouth (not that his mouth needs any help).

J: Daddy's the king of our house.

Me: The king? Why does he get to be the king?

J: Because he makes the rules.

Me: No he doesn't. I make the rules and he enforces them. So, technically, I'm the king and he's my army.

J: No, he's the king because he makes the rules and he works.

Me: Oh, because I don't work.

J: Well, you work on the computer, but Daddy does real work. Your work isn't real.

Me: What? It is so real. Just because it's on the computer doesn't make it not real!

J: Yes it does. Daddy uses elbow grease, you just use finger grease. Elbow grease is real work!

I had to erupt into laughter. I suppose he has a point. And he was so sincere, like he'd weighed it out and "computer work" didn't make the grade. The mountain man spent this entire conversation patting himself on the back. I expect his arms are sore this morning.

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QOTD: I Sold Them .... For Free

Some of Javi's funniest moments come right after he bursts through the front door fresh from school.

J: Don't tell Daddy, but I was going to take these to school to sell them. [Holds up intricately folded pieces of paper.] So I get them down from up there [points to the entertainment armoire] and took them to school today.

Me: And did you sell any?

J: Yep, I sold three of them!

Me: How much did you sell them for?

J: [Shrugs exaggeratedly] For free. It's still selling though!

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

After flashing the shapes he didn't sell in my face, Javi then holds up a particular one and says, "Alex did this one." I glance at it and nod to show that I saw it.

J: Don't you see what it says? Look closer. [Puts it so close to my face, my eyes cross.]

Me: I can't make it out.

J: Oh, no, it's this one. [Holds up a shape with "Fouck You" written on it. Stares at me with big eyes.]

Me: What?! Why do you have that?

J: He just gave it to me.

Me: Well, I'm calling your teacher. That's completely unacceptable.

J: No mama! Don't tell her!

Me: What if you'd gotten caught with that? Alex wouldn't be the one in trouble -- you would be. I'm sorry, but it can't happen again.

J: Please, mama! Please! Can't you let it slip just this one time? Please? I promise not to take anything else with bad words on it. Please?

Me: This time, Javi. It had better not happen again. And you tell Alex that I'm watching him.

J: Thanks for letting it slip by, mama. I just don't know why Alex wrote that word. He can't even spell it right!

Yeah, Alex, learn to spell. Because that's what you should be ashamed of!

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QOTD: Bad behavior

In the car on the way home from the bus stop, Javi looks sweetly over at me and says, "Okay, I have to tell you something."

Me: You misbehaved at school?

Javi: I KINDA got in trouble for drawing but I just HAD to draw because I haven't in SO LONG. So I just sat REALLY quietly at my desk and drew A FEW pictures without talking to ANYONE.

Me: So you got an X on your behavior report?

Javi: Pretty much.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

This morning as I was getting dressed to take Bella to school, she discovered a teeny-tiny-baby pig on the floor beside her. She scooped him up in her palm and turned toward me.

Bella: I got dis baby pig, Mama!

Me: Oh, what a sweet little baby pig. Can I hug him?

Bella: No! Dat baby pig in big trouble. Dat baby pig TIME OUT, Mama. You no touchin it.

Me: Wow, okay. Bad baby pig.

Bella: Yes. Bad baby pig. I beatin dis baby pig! You gettin' spank BABY PIG!

She then threw the baby pig down with disgust and beat the pretend crap out of it. When her arm got tired she picked up a shoe and beat it some more.

Bella: Okay, baby pig. You not trouble no more. You dead baby pig. SEE WHAT YOU DO!

(I promise we do not beat, torture, or otherwise abuse our children. I can only guess there's a secret Dora episode only she can see where sweet Boots gets the ax. What other explanation is there?)

This is but one example of why we are THAT family.

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QOTD: Precious gold

Scene: Billy, my sister (who's living with us for a while), Bella, and I were sitting in the living room. I was trying to tame Bella's curly* hair so that we could head out for kid's night at a local restaurant as we do every Monday night. Everyone else was lying around as if the Dinner Fairy was due any minute. Ehem.

In trots Javi.

J: Mama, is that your jewelry in the bathroom?

Me: I have jewelry in the bathroom.

J: Is it the gold jewelry on sink?

Ashley: No, Javi, that's mine. Why?

J: It's precious gold. I need it.

Ashley: What?

J: I need that precious gold to send in for money. I saw it on tv. It said send in all your precious gold. Can I have it?

Ashley: Uh, it's not real gold.

J: Is it precious?

Ashley: No, buddy. It's not precious.

J: Oh. When you get some precious gold, let me know, okay?

Ashley: Will do.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Scene: Bella was lying across the back of the couch wearing nothing but a diaper. She spotted the DVD liner for Elmo's Potty Time, a remnant leftover from a whopping full-month of potty trained Bella.

B: I wan watch dat Ahmo Pahty Time.

Me: Daddy's watching football. Want to read this instead?

B: Okay. Dat Ahmo!

Me: Yep, and what's this (pointing at a roll of toilet paper).

B: Dat's papeh towdyels fah wipin' mah bud!

Me: (suppressing laughter) Good job, that's right. It's toilet paper.

B: Not toedit papeh. It papeh towdyels. I no wipin my bud and my sheesetake wid dat papeh towdyels, Mama. I not!

Me: I know you're not.

B: I wipin yo bud?

Me: No, I wipe my own butt.

B: I wipin yo sheesetake?

Me: Nope, I do that, too.

B: Dat okay, Mama. Javi said I wipin his bud yestahday.

Me: JAAAAAAAAAAAVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!

(No worries, Javi had no idea what Bella was talking about. There's really no telling.)

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QOTD: After school with Javi

This is a typical afternoon.

J: Mama, can which way are these gloves supposed to go? (Red winter gloves that fit perfectly well.)

Me: Why?

J: I just want to know.

Me: Looks like it. Why are you wearing gloves in 80 degree weather?

J: I like them.

Me: I'm telling you right now that you'd better not cut the fingertips off of them.

J: I'm not going to!!!! I mean, I want to. Can't I? Please? Please!

Me: The answer is no.

J: (shoulder jerks out of the room while sucking his teeth and whining)
__

Me: (on the phone) Yeah, sure, we'll be here, come on over.

J: Who's coming over?! Is it Grandma?

Me: No.

J: Is it Ms. Shannon?

Me: No.

J: Is it Amy or Ms. Angela?

Me: No.

J: Is it Ashley?!

Me: Yep.

J: I knew it! I CAN TOTALLY READ YOUR MIND!

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QOTD: High butt

Javi just walked by working on a wedgie.

Me: I love that butt!

Javi: What?

Me: Your high butt. I love it.

Javi: So? Your butt is higher because you're taller.

Me: But I still love your butt.

Javi: What about Ade's butt? He has a really, really high butt. I like his butt more than your butt.

Me: Hm... makes sense. But I still love your butt.

Javi: Can we talk about something else?

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Poopin'

So Bella and I were just hangin' out on a Saturday afternoon after a full day of tax-free shopping and working in the garden. Bella goes into her playhouse and begins making those sounds that you know will lead to a diaper change.

Me: Bay, are you pooping?

Bella: Yeah. (Sounds more like "yay-yuh" in her Southern drawl.)

Me: Want to go poop on the potty?

Bella: No, fank oo. I want just poopin' in my house, okay?

Who can argue with that?

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QTOD: When I grow up

"When I grow up, I'm going to be tan, Mama. I just can't wait for that!" -- Javier

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QOTD: At the garden

Confession: Javier and I went to the garden this morning for the first time in more than a week.

Yes, I am lazy.

No, I am not wasteful.

I actually donated whatever was ready for harvest to the organization that runs our community garden to sell at the local Farmer's Market. The feedback was that our basil was the tastiest and prettiest (thanks to my endless pruning) and that our tomatoes were the firmest and juiciest (thanks to us eating them as fast as they ripen ... and often before they ripen).

However they chastised me about our bell peppers, which we can't seem to save from blossom-end rot, and our cucumbers, which I can get to stay on the trellis, so they often have ground spots and take the shape of mutated gourds. But they taste good!

During the hour we spent this morning hunched over in the heat with stink bugs, bumble bees, and gnats circling our sweaty heads, Javier laid some choice phrases on me. Allow me to share:

Upon observing a pest-attacked cherry tomato: "Oh my god, Mama! Do you see this hole? It's like ... bigger than my nostril!"

Upon getting buzzed in the head by a rogue bee: "AAH! It's just like Daddy said - the bees are rising up against us!"

Upon reflecting on the size and scope of our tomato plants: "Wow, our tomatoes are bigger than everyone else's. I like being the biggest, don't you, Mama? Yeah, I know you like being the biggest - you're bigger than Daddy!"

Upon finding the water distributor broken on the hose: "Stupid water hose! You want me to stick my hand over it, Mama? I sometimes want to do that to my pee."

Upon finally getting in the car to go home: "Oh no! All this hard gardening work makes me have to go to the bathroom. AND I MEAN POOP!"

Hope you had equally funny and gross moments with your 8 year old today.

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