If it’s true that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then this blog is in a handbasket, floating down the river Styx.
I can’t count the times I’ve meant to write a little update here only to be interrupted by a coughing fit, a waking toddler, a dog who needs to crap, another coughing fit, a nap, the well founded anxiety that if the market doesn’t rise like Lazarus out of the grave it’s dug for itself that I’ll be out of a job before Memorial Day…you know, the standard distractions.
Between naps, craps and existential crises, I have scrawled a few notes about the past few days on beer bottle labels, dog food bags and in the margins of the want ads.
Last week marked the second Thanksgiving in my 40 years that I hadn’t gathered with my siblings for a meal. However, we were joined by Grammy and a friend from my past job who was a holiday orphan. While 3B and I coughed and played the day away, Mama and Grammy made enough food to stuff all of us turkeys several times over.
Before dinner, we were able to videoSkype with Sister #1 and #2 and their kids while they were waiting for Brother #2, who had to stop to get a new rear axle on his journey north. After our dinner, Brother #2 had gotten his new rear end to Sister #2’s house, so we again videoSkyped while he sharpened up the snickersnee.
Our friend had brought over tasty wine and I set the red and port on the balcony to chill a bit. After dinner, when Grammy took 3B out on the balcony to play, he reached over, grabbed both bottles by their necks and announced, “These are my beers.”
See why I can’t make fun of Britney?
That’s not the only bon mot that 3B has dropped this week. He’s picking up language fast enough that I’ve been checking under his crib mattress for correspondence course material. You read this blog, so you know I’m not capable of expanding his vocabulary beyond the seven words you can’t say on radio or television. Then again, he does spend most of his day with Mama, a healthy safeguard against my influence.
Some that stood out to us:
- Want that creature to say, “Silly Mr. Skip!”
— Creature? Where does he get these words? The Mr. Skip reference is a long story.
- Oh, do you want to go get your squeeze box? OK. Yes, I do. But wait–first I have to put on my shoes.
— 3B clearly doesn’t need us for conversations.
- I want Eeyore to play Jump Around. [Papa grabbed the small Eeyore.] No, I mean the big Eeyore.
— Really, Papa. Don’t be a dumb ass.
- I pooped from all that food.
–Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
On Sunday, we thought it would be wise to run three errands with a toddler: go to BJ’s, Target and PetSmart. Honestly, 3B is a good shopper for his age. The truck carts at BJ’s help. Well, they help 3B. For us, they turn shopping into a workout since they’re as easy to maneuver as steering a dead whale with a toothpick.
Target required tag-team parenting–one shopping while the other entertained 3B with Christmas trees, bicycles, the entire toy section, baseballs, bats, helmets and gloves. At some point we also had to surreptitiously leave behind the first item 3B picked up and latched onto as we came through the doors: a pink sequined purse.
Even though the pink is a nice complement to the red in 3B’s hair, we couldn’t get the purse. We consciously got him attached to cloth diapers as his lovies, since they are easy to get cheaply in large quantities, which means that we are never without one. We leave one in the car, one in each stroller, one in the backpack, a few at Mrs. K’s, and we’ve probably lost a few in airports and stores along the way, but we still always have one. So we’re not really prepared to switch to pink sequined purses as lovies.
As for the boy carrying the pink sequined purse through Target? Get over it. 3B is quite happy gobbling up his princess gummy vitamins and brushing his teeth with his pink Hello Kitty toothbrush, all of which he picked out, thank you very much.
Besides, isn’t this nothing but a man’s pink sequined purse?
Honestly, I can’t blame 3B. The crap they make for boys is boring at his age, when shiny things rule. Boys toys and clothes and accessories are all drab colors with no personality. 3B likes things that match is bright personality and meet his imagination where it is going. This is a boy who has conversations with characters in his books; why would he not want characters on all of his toys?
Speaking of books, we did succeed in getting him a bookcase at Target, so his burgeoning collection no longer has to sprawl across his bedroom floor–not that it was bothering him, but I was going to break an ankle sooner or later trying to close his blinds. And then it was off to the pet store for dog food.
By that time, it was raining, and Mama and 3B stayed in the car eating chips while I ran in quickly for the dog food, since by then it was time to get home for our nap, crap and afternoon existential crisis.
I’d have more to tell you, but I ran out of beer bottle labels. I’m thinking that 3B has them stashed somewhere, along with his coursebooks.