Time for Botox

Porter looked at me, alarmed, today, and said "MOMMY! Is your forehead cracked?"

Would You Like to Come Over For Dinner Tonight?

I purchased a pizza at Fresh & Easy tonight so I could quick and easy make it for dinner. It had sausage on it, among other things. I put it in the cart, and Po said "EWWWWWWW! I am NOT trying that pizza! It has poo on it!"

His Lovely Assistant

For whatever reason, the new "Let's Make a Deal" popped up on our TV yesterday, and Po was enthralled. He loved everything about it and was yelling things like "curtain 2!" and "he won a motorcycle...that's so cool!"

This afternoon he asked to watch it again. "That grown-up show where people have costumes and win stuff." Harmless enough, and we only had ten minutes until we left to pick up the teen thing from school, so we tuned in.

Again. Total fascination. And this time Campbell was a fan, too.

So we watched, and then Po was totally bummed when we couldn't stay to see if the dude got the "big deal."

As we're walking out to the car, Porter has "supe" (his nickname for "super blankie"), as usual. I'm holding Cam, as usual. Porter makes like a magician of sorts and says in perfect game show host style, "Mommy, what's behind blanket number 2?"

I giggled and said, "I'm not sure," thinking there's nothing.

He lifted the blankie to reveal a Hot Wheels car.

Campbell–yes, Campbell–announced "A NEW CAR!"

And Now, on a More Serious Note

For the past couple of nights, I haven't given Po much water in his bed because he hasn't been holding it well, so to speak. This is a change from the norm, so tough for him to handle.

Just after I put him to bed this evening, he started crying, then wailing, and then saying things like "I need water, Mommy! I don't want to die! I don't want to die, Mommy! I don't want to die!" I told him through the door that he'd be just fine with the splash of water I gave him, and that he would surely survive until morning, but the cries only got more intense. He'll occasionally come up with some dramatic story to avoid bedtime, so I chalked it up to that and decided to let him cry it out.

That lasted all of five minutes. He continued with the Grim Reaper story line, so I thought I'd better pay him a bit of attention.

"Po. Let's settle down, baby." I said, kissing his tears and holding him. He calmed enough for me to sort-of understand what he was saying, but he was still doing the snot-choking gasping cries I remember doing as I kid when the worry was real. I heard him get out "I just want to be with you."

So I held him and rubbed his back while he simmered down and started to explain himself. "Mommy, I REALLY don't want to die. I will miss you, and I will miss K (BFF)."

"Porter, you won't die until you're about a hundred, so let's not worry about that, okay?"

"Mommy, I don't want to die. I will be lonely, and I won't be able to see you, and I will miss everybody..." he continued.

The challenges as a parent just keep coming, don't they? "Porter, you are going to have a long, long life, and that's not something we need to worry about right now. I do want to talk to you more about this, so let's talk in the morning. It's important that you get some rest and figure out all of your questions about dying, then we'll talk for as long as you like tomorrow."

Porter continued. "But what if I die and they can't fix me? I might need something to eat."

Can I cry, now?

This family is no stranger to death, starting with me losing my mother at age eight. Porter has experienced the loss of pets, insects, and flowers. He's sensitive. He cries whenever he sees a tree stump and says "I loved that tree. That's SO sad." I know he got a bit of it from me, but most of it is all Po.

My master plan is to tell the littles in time about all of the different theories on dying and let them decide what they believe for themselves, as we have done with B. Only B didn't ask about it until a more appropriate age, like TEN! Now what do I do with a three-year-old? I don't want to impose any one view on him, but I want more than anything to comfort him. But I'm going to keep it real, no matter what. So how do I keep things real for him but also comfort. Why does it seem like I can't have both?

He's asleep, now. I promised to check on him and give him kisses before turning in, myself. Let's hope I dream up something brilliant to tell him in the morning.

That Was Quick

This is the first year that Po is really into his Halloween candy, agonizing over the decision when he's allowed to have a piece after eating a good meal. He didn't do so well at dinner last night but still wanted a treat, so I told him he'd need to eat more healthy food in order to earn it.

After trying every excuse he knew, he cried, "but, Mommy, my tummy really, really, really hurts..." with a groan for added flair.

"Oh, Po, I'm so sorry to hear that," I sympathized. "If you have a tummy ache, then you definitely shouldn't have a piece of candy, because that will make it worse." Big hugs.

"Well, it's much better, now," he reconsidered, "it was just a short one."

Keep Your Hands to Yourself

The littles were taking their bath this evening, and Po was all about floating on his back, for some reason. Cam was doing her own thing, relegated to the corner of the tub. After some time, she took notice of what was bobbing on the surface as Po perfected his float.

"HEY!" Po hollered. "She touched my privacy!"

Trying to suppress a guffaw with no help from my sister, who was hanging in the bathroom with us, I said "Well, tell her not to."

"No, you tell her."

"No, Po, you tell her. It's your body, so you need to tell her. Say 'Campbell, please don't touch my penis,'" I advised.

"No. You tell–HEY! She touched it again!"

As my sister and I started snickering, Cam giggled and said "Mommy! Penis!"

It was all over. As the adults busted up, Po said "Mommy, I don't like her touching my privacy" while floating spread-eagle on his back, taking up 99% of the tub.

"Well, Po," I said, "then don't make it so available."

Wrong Kid

My hubby had a long meeting today and had a bit of trouble shifting gears when he got home just in time for the littles' bath. He took Po into the bedroom to change into pjs while I helped Cam brush her teeth in the bathroom. After a couple of minutes, I hear Po say "Um, Daddy? You're putting a diaper on me."