My Little Winos

Ding-dong!

The man in the brown truck came again today, this time with a package from a family member who has some serious connections in the wine industry. This person usually sends a pre-shipment of fine wine to keep us in supply while this person visits, this time for the holidays. It is quite a luxury, and much appreciated.

I drug the heavy case in the house, and the littles, as littles often do at this time of year, inquired about what might be inside.

"It feels like wine from you-know-who!" I announced.

"A-gain?" groaned Po.

"Is it kid wine?" glowed Cam, my little enthusiast.

Though disappointed in the realization that Santa was not delivering early Christmas presents for him, Po eagerly helped me unload the package so he could make a rocket ship-mountain cabin-tunnel-bridge-hat-finish line out of the protective styrofoam, only to pepper my carpet with "snow." A-gain?

Stop the Violence

Po and I got into a pretty heated discussion today as we were getting ready to go to the library. We were all scrambling around to find one long lost book under the couch or another in the hamper, and we eventually constructed the complete mountain of books we checked out a couple of weeks ago.

One thing I understand about Po, if nothing else, is his sentimentality for inanimate objects. He has a love/hate relationship with library day because, although the lure of new reading material is exciting, he is heartbroken over letting go of the friends he's read countless times over the last few weeks. He is spawn from the gal who, as a little girl, had a secret stash of her father's empty Marlbro boxes, thinking she'd saved them from a dark, lonely death. Though I've gotten over that freakishness, I can sympathize with my son, so I allow him to renew one book each time. And then I am tortured as I watch him agonize over which one will make the final cut.

Today's three finalists were all teen-geared Transformer comics. I told him that I didn't really like the books for him, and that I thought I'd made a mistake by allowing him to check them out in the first place. Po is Transformers-obsessed, so sometimes I am a bit to lenient on the matter.

"But MAWMMY! I love them so much. And you let me check them out before, and I love Transformers, and they aren't really that violent. "

Funny, I'd never mentioned violent. He sealed his fate.

"No, Po. These are going back, and I'll help you look for some more appropriate Transformer books. We'll find some," I reasoned.

"Well, Mommy. If you think these books are so inappropriate, then why did you let Daddy take me to see the Transformers movie in the movie theater. I mean, they are doing stuff in the movie, and a book doesn't do anything. It just sits there and it turns its pages!"

Nice of him to give me practice for his teenage years, eh?

A Good Bite

Cam is really good at sharing. She's a people-pleaser. Po, on the other hand...we're working on it.

Whenever Cam has a treat, Po asks for a bite, and she always lets him. When Cam got a Popsicle tonight, Po asked for a bite. She said "yes" before she had even taken a bite, herself. He put his mouth on it, and said to her, "no, you have to slippery it up so the bite will come off."

The Wisdom of an Older Brother

I just caught the tail-end of a conversation between Po and Cam as they lay in their beds for nap time. I was fully prepared to intervene as soon as inaccurate information was provided. The conversation was about death.

Cam was talking and I caught her say "...but I don't want to die. We don't want to die."

"Well," Po said with authority, "don't worry about it, but everyone dies."

"No," said Cam.

"Yes," said Po, "and dying is when your heart stops beating and you go to the doctor and he can't fix you."

"Oh," said Cam, with some wonder in her voice.

"And you have to eat food so you don't die."

"Oh."

"But don't worry. Mommy will be with us every day forever and ever and ever."

"Oh."

I said I'd intervene if anything inaccurate was said, but I just didn't have the heart. I think this conversation between a four and two-year-old is best left as-is. I hope he doesn't move on to sex education.

Learning about Patterns

Cam and I were having a "discussion" this morning about whether or not she could have taffy for breakfast.

"Please."

"No."

"Puhleeez!"

"No."

"PLEEEEEEASE!"

"No."

Po interjected with a huge "a-ha" grin on his face. "Hey! We learned about that in preschool!"

"You learned about what?" I asked.

"Patterns! That's an arguing pattern! please–no–please–no–please–no..."

Who could argue with that?

Ungulates

Po chose a Smithsonian video at the library. No surprise. He's watching it now while I'm getting some work done. He just approached my desk and asked, "Do you know that cows are ungulates?"

My first thought was that he made up another word, a common practice for him. He'll give you the definition of the made-up word, and everything, so it's pretty believable. I told him I didn't know that cows are ungulates, and could he please tell me more about it.

"Sure. There are different types of ungulates. Cows are the milking kind, and a gazelle is the not milking kind. And a giraffe is also an ungulate."

"Ah," I said. "Thanks for teaching me something (totally made up) new." Then I started to wonder. So I looked it up: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ungulate. It's way too early in the day to feel this stupid.

More than it Seems

Po has been a bit reluctant to go to preschool, but the one thing he's been pumped about is getting a Transformers backpack and folder. We went on a hunt for perfection today. He proudly wore his selection through Target, and we couldn't wipe the smile off his face if we wanted to.

Now that we're home, he won't let go of the folder. Papers in. Papers out. Papers in. Papers out. In the backpack. Out of the backpack. In the backpack. Out of the backpack. He sat contemplating the folder, inside and out, and finally said "this folder is really inspirational."

Huh? "You think so, Po?" I asked. "Why is that?"

"Well," he explained, "you can open it and put stuff in it, and there's a Transformers logo and the letters to make the word and there's a picture of Optimus on the front and on the inside. And I love it so much. So that's why it's inspirational."

College, here we come!

Big Mistakes Can Make You Thankful

Sometimes a series of circumstances are put together in just the wrong way.

Just a few minutes ago, I was working away on the computer, my hubby was vacuuming, and the littles were playing. Since the vacuum was so loud, hubby and I didn't hear the doorbell ring. Po did. And our door was unlocked. And he opened it.

I'm not sure how long the front door was open before I noticed from the angle that I sat at my desk that the light level in the family room was brighter than normal, which can only indicate one thing.

I sprung up, ran to the front door, and found Po standing in the open threshold speaking to a toothless man. I didn't scold him. This was completely my fault. I told him that we shouldn't open the door for strangers, and the toothless man told him the same thing. We got lucky that he was a kind veteran looking for donations for a program for homeless vets that he was a part of. I normally don't give anything to people who come knocking on my door, but I gave him a couple of dollars and thanked him for helping to teach my son and (mostly) me a lesson.

Po thinks the best of people, which is a quality he gets from me. It is a blessing and a curse, and it can often get you into trouble. We had a chat, and he was a bit upset. I wasn't angry, but I was serious. I told him that I made a mistake in not teaching him to be cautious of strangers at the door. Since we always (I thought) keep the door locked, I never even realized it could be an issue.

At the end of our talk, with both Po and I a bit choked up, Po said, "Mommy, I really want you to listen to me for a minute."

"Okay, Po. What's on your mind?"

"I knew that man wasn't a bad man because of his eyebrows. If you're good, your eyebrows are up. If you're bad, your eyebrows are down," he said, pushing my eyebrows down.

"True, Po, but sometimes even people who look nice, aren't." I hated that I had to say that. He doesn't understand. And he won't right now. Maybe that's okay. He doesn't have to know about all of the evils in the world just now. I think it's enough for me to know that I have to gracefully address with him the uncertainty of strangers. The lesson I learned was well worth the couple of bucks I gave to the homeless veterans.

Jello Monster

The littles were just enjoying some post-lunch Jello on this hot summer day. Po thinks Jello comes from heaven, but Cam usually just plays with hers, making a mess for me to clean. A few minutes into the treat, Po said, "you know, Mommy, she's not going to eat that. She just likes the idea of it."

"I know. Po. It's okay," I said.

He paused for as short a time as a four-year-old deems appropriate.

"So can I have hers?"

Boob Man

They rearranged our local Target, so when we went to purchase a few things today, it took us forever. We circled and circled, looking for "bendy straws." As we swept past the women's lingerie section that was end-capped with patterned bras, Po pointed and shouted, "MOMMY! You should get yourself a pair of those polka-dot boobies!"

Shameless

Hubby gave the kids a bath tonight so I could get some work done. they were taking quite a while, so I went in to check on them.

Daddy was showering with the littles, which they love.

I peeked in on them, and they were all giggling. Po said "Mommy, post a picture of this on facebo–"

"NO!" Daddy hollered, as if I would post a naked picture of him on the internet. I guess he can't assume anything with me.

"Why NOT?" Po asked.

"I don't want to be naked on Facebook!" Daddy explained.

"Well, Cam and I do. Post it on Facebook, Mommy!"

Oh, the suspense is killing you, isn't it?

Special Adaptation

Po was chatting me up this morning while I was getting ready. There is always something special about mascara for my kids. They love the stuff. So when I pulled it out, Po was right on top of it. "Can I open it? I know how. I know how to twist it and pull the thing out. And can I wear some? And can I do it myself? And what is mascara supposed to do, anyway?"

I explained, "mascara helps make women's eyes look bigger."

He didn't miss a beat. "Oh, so you can scare away all the bullies!"

Career Changes

Po wants to be a million things when he grows up, and I love that. I can only hope that reincarnation is for real, and he'll have the opportunity to do everything he wants to do, because there certainly isn't enough room in this lifetime for it all.

For his bedtime story this evening, he chose a book about construction that he recently brought home from the library. It began by discussing what an architect does, and he seemed really interested. Most of the "boy" books about construction are all about heavy machinery and that kind of macho junk, so this was a refreshing change. He asked a few questions about architects, which I was able to answer (three cheers for me). I suggested maybe he'd want to add "architect" to his list of possible careers.

"But I want to be a superhero," he said, completely seriously.

I wanted to tell him that he already is, but that would have most definitely caused me problems tomorrow and every day after, so I pointed out that "all superheroes are alter-egos of someone else who has a cool job."

"Oh YEAH!" he realized.

The best part of having Po is that he gets me to dream big.

Consequenses

Last night while we were reading bedtime stories, Po dropped a heavy book right on Campbell's head. It wasn't completely intentional, but it was super careless, and after a pretty hectic day filled with Campbell being injured, I had had it.

"Okay. I'm done," I said, closing the book about two-thirds of the way through.

"WHY?!" Porter pleaded.

"Porter, you were goofing around and hurt your sister, which is something I've talked to you about many times before. I'm done reading for tonight. We can finish the book tomorrow," I explained

Po climbed into bed, and I tucked him in and gave him a kiss. After a moment of silence and with a serious look on his face, he shared his thoughts. "Well, Mommy, I'm done with your mean consequences."

Sometimes it's so difficult not to bust out laughing in his face. He received no verbal response from me. Simply a kiss and the lights were out. And, yes, Cam is just fine.

All it Takes is a Change of Scenery

We went shopping today with Grandma, and she bought Po got a new cup. It's kind-of a big boy cup. He has to twist the top to get it to open, and it's pretty challenging for him. He was working really hard to make it happen, but he was getting frustrated.

Grandma said, "Porter, this is a big boy cup, and it might take some practice. It's one of those cups where you screw the cap on, take it someplace, unscrew it, drink from it, and then screw the cap back on. It's not like a sippy cup where you can just drink out of it."

My mother-in-law and I chatted for a bit while Po did his thing. He took his cup into the other room and was working on it some more, then came back after a few minutes. "I took the cup someplace, and I still can't get it open!"

Take Me to Your Leader

Po has been helping me with the laundry today, and we just started another load. I used to have to pick him up to push the flashy buttons that make things happen, but today, suddenly, he could reach them on his own, and knew just what to do. A great wave of sadness washed over me.

"Po, can't you just stay a little baby? I don't like how fast you're growing up," I inappropriately blurted.

"Nope. The world wants me to be the boss," he declared.

Who am I to interfere with that? I sure hope I don't, because sometimes all I feel like doing is squeezing him so hard he squishes back into baby form.

Planning for the Future in a Big Way

This morning over breakfast, I witnessed a conversation between Po and B. Po asked, "So, brother, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I don't know," B shrugged.

"You don't know?" Po was shocked.

"Well," B reconsidered. "I guess I'll either be a video game tester or a chef, because I love video games, and I love to cook. Or maybe an astronaut."

"AN ASTRONAUT! ME TOO! I really want to be an astronaut," said Po.

"I think everyone does," B shared.

"Well, before I'm an astronaut, I'll be an army guy. Then an astronaut. Then a gardener. Then a police officer. Then a rock star. Then a doctor. Then a trash truck guy. And then a chef and a dump truck guy," Po announced.

"Whoa! " B said. "You'll never be able to retire."

"What's that?" Po asked.

It's probably best that we don't explain retirement right now. Po won't have time for it, anyway.

Short and Sweet

While eating a popsicle, Po just informed me that he is using his "taste bugs."

Never Mind the Context

Po was just sitting through some commercials and announced, "Well THAT is a fun commercial!" I thought it was probably some wacky toy he'd want, but instead the screen was filled with bullet points, and the announcer was talking about arthritis pain.

"This commercial?" I asked.

"YEAH! It's so cool! See!" I looked and saw an x-ray of a hip. "Check it out! It shows the INSIDE of a BODY! That's fun!"

Of course it is. Silly me.

Jail Time

I am coming to the realization that Cam's days in the crib are numbered. She's able to get a leg up and over, so I think we'd better transition to the big bed before she breaks her neck. I realize that since she's twenty-six months old, we've had it easy. But this is the parenting moment I most dread. When Po transitioned, we had to take shifts keeping watch outside his door. We had to threaten. We had to bribe. And eventually, we just switched the doorknob around so the lock was on the outside.

I really don't want to do that again, especially since they share a room and Po shouldn't have to be trapped. But I know there is NO WAY that girl is going to stay in her bed for anything. I could promise her a pony, and she'd be off and running, beating me out of the room.

I know you think I might be surprised. Oh, give her a chance. Don't label her a failure prematurely. You don't know Cam.

So I decided to seek the advice of an expert. Someone with a lot of recent experience on the subject. I consulted Po. "Po, I think Cam is getting ready for a big girl bed, just like your big boy bed. She'll be able to get in and out on her own, but I don't think she's going to want to stay in the bed. Remember when you had trouble doing that? Well, what do you think we could do to get her to stay in her bed?"

He thought and thought and was really putting in an effort to come up with a great solution. I was hopeful.

A look of inspiration came over his face. "I got it! We put bars around the bed!"

I wonder if a dog crate would work.

Just Plain Rotten

Po didn't get a chance to finish his breakfast before we took B to school this morning, and halfway there, he got concerned about it. "My cantaloupe!" he screamed.

"Buddy, don't worry. It will still be there when we get home," I explained. "You can eat it then."

"But it will decay!'

Decay? Really. I explained that it takes quite a while for a piece of cantaloupe to decay and that we'd be home in only a few minutes, so he didn't need to worry. "And, by the way, how do you know the word 'decay'?"

I got his standard answer: "Well, like I told you. I'm just a smart guy."

A New Power Word

We were all just getting ready to go for a walk, and Po suddenly plopped his rear down on the floor, grabbing his feet, and said "Oh, no! My sock is all funked up!"

You can be sure I'll be working that phrase into my repertoire.

Good Snackin'

I've been making my own croutons, lately, and the littles like to snack on them sometimes. Po just came up to me and asked, "Mommy, may I have a poo-toun?"

I was laughing too hard to correct him. I'm so mature.

Don't Choke

I gave the littles some mango with lunch today. Porter thought some of the pieces were too big and said "Mommy, please cut my mango smaller. The big pieces hurt my esophagus."

Why, certainly.

Table Talk

Campbell has been a bit queasy over the last couple of days, and Po has been trying to help me. Poor guy also has a pretty sensitive gag reflex, so he is conquering one of his fears by being my assistant. He just reported, "Mommy, I just heard her poo come out. Could you please change her right now?"

Campbell said "No, Po-Po. I just toot."

Po looked at her with his nostrils flared and said "I don't think so. Mommy, change her."

A Lesson in Appreciation

We were driving around today with Daddy in the car, which is a rare thing. Daddy saw a car he liked, and said "I really like those."

Po said, "Daddy, don't you think you should be happy with the car you have?"

Somebody just showed his hand. He does listen, on occasion.

Having an Older Brother Who Loves to Read

Our family recently started juicing every morning. It feels good to do something healthy together as a family, and everyone has been getting in on the act, selecting what to juice and squishing it into the juicer. Fun! The not-so-fun aspect is how cleansing it is. I mean, good to know it's doing its job, but, well. You get the idea. Although we've been following the guidelines, we're all a little more regular, let's say.

This morning Po loved his juice, then went to the bathroom and asked for help. "I have diarrhea of a wimpy kid!" he announced.

I Don't Want to Get Pulled Over

Po and I had some rare time alone yesterday, much of it spent driving on the freeway. As you can imagine, the kid talks non-stop, so whenever there are a few moments of silence, I know he's just reloading with something spectacular.

We passed a police car, lights ablaze, on the side of the road. "Mommy, how do police cars pull people over? They don't have hooks."

I won't go all into how I explained him out of his literal mindset, but it was quite a lengthy discussion, and I'm still not sure he understands. It's funny when you think about all of the things that could be misinterpreted if we thought of them literally. I wonder what else he ponders about that way. Knowing him, I'll find out.

Someone Thinks I'm Pretty

I was holding Po yesterday, and he was staring at my shirt. He finally said, "you're pretty, Mommy."

"Thanks, Po. Is it because of my shirt, or because of my gorgeous face?" I prodded.

"It's just the sparkles on your shirt."

I figured.

The Power of Advertising

While he was eating dinner, Po just asked me, "Mommy, are we using all of our taste bugs?"

I busted out laughing. I usually try to keep a straight face. I had to explain, "Po, I'm not laughing at you, I'm just laughing because you're remarkable. How do you know about taste buds?"

"Well, from the Fruity Petals and Cocoa Petals commercial."

Of course. "Tell me more about that," I requested.

"There's the Fruity Petals and the Cocoa Petals. I like the Fruity Petals. And then this BIG tongue comes out with the taste bugs, and I wonder if we're using all of them."

"I just don't know, Po. I just don't know," said, still laughing. "Eat your dinner, please."

Defending the Cacti

While we were driving around today, Po asked "why do cacti have spikes?" Yes, he used the correct plural form of "cactus."

Now that's one of those questions like "why is the sky blue?" or "who is the fourth president of the United States?" that you'd think you'd know the answer to right away, and then quickly realize that you're not one hundred percent sure if you're making it up or if you're pulling it from an accurate file from long ago.

I answered "I think probably because most likely they need them because it seems like they need them for protection." Yeah. That's it.

"Well, maybe we should look it up when we get home," Po suggested.

"Great idea. Let's do that." Here we go. Outsmarted by Po, once again. There's no satisfying him with a half-assed answer. I thought for a few moments, and then said "you know, Po, now that I'm thinking about it, I bet they really do have spikes to defend themselves."

He elaborated for me. "Oh, yeah. Like from predators who want to eat them. Like the piranha."

"I'm not sure the piranha is a threat to the cactus."

"Well, piranhas can be really snappy things that are really snappy when you try to save the life of something that they are trying to eat. They'll eat anything, you know. And they don't want to not eat the thing that you're trying to save. They're really snappy."

"Wow. You know a lot about piranhas, Po."

"Yep. So cacti have spikes to protect them from predators, like the piranha," he concluded.

When we got home, I looked it up. Wikipedia says: "In most species of cacti the leaves have evolved into spines which not only defend the cactus against herbivores but also provide shade that lowers the plants water loss through transpiration."

Po's response? "Oh, yeah! Herbivores! Herbivores are predators to cacti."

Folks, that concludes today's lesson.

The Longest Red Light

We were sitting for a while at a red light earlier today. Once the light turned green and we were off again, Po said "Well, that's the longest red light I've ever attended."

Daddy Drama

Po often comes into our bedroom in the wee hours of the morning for a little snuggle before starting the day. This morning he was greeted by Daddy saying "SHIT" and springing out of bed in a mad dash, turning the bathroom light on and off, banging around, and throwing clothes everywhere.

Po and I giggled a little bit, and Po said "Sheesh, Daddy. You don't have to be all dramatic just because you're late for work."

A Losing Battle

Who doesn't have food issues? I try to feed my kids healthy, minimally-processed, mostly organic-ish stuff, but I'm not all OCD about it. I try not to fight with them about how much they eat. I recently read "you decide what your child eats. They decide how much." Makes sense, and it makes me feel better. My kids often decide that nothing is the right amount, but I am still trying to remind myself that I decide and I'm in control every day, no matter how out of control I feel.

Lately I've been trying to cut back on the kids' snacks. I figure if they are actually super hungry for a meal, they'll eat. I can deal with the nagging, right?

This afternoon, Po and Cam each had a snack, and then Po asks for another snack.

"No, Po. You just had a snack, and I'm going to make you dinner in an hour or so."

"But MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOmy. I'm stAAAAAAAAAAAAAArving."

"Great. Then you'll eat your dinner when I–"

"You're not listening to me," Po interrupted.

"I'll be happy to listen to you when you're not sassing me. Until then, I refuse to listen to you. Let me know when you're ready."

There was a millisecond pause, and then Po came back with an argument. "I'm just saying that if you don't let me have a snack, then I still won't eat my dinner."

"Well, that's your choice, Po."

"No, it's not. If you let me have a snack, I'll still eat my dinner."

"Well, that's interesting, but you're not having a snack right now."

I believe I got a growl back. So my kid is going to be REEeEEEEeEEEEEEEally STAAAAAAAAAAAAAArving tonight since he is not going to eat a snack or dinner.

Maybe we should all just go to bed.

A Break in the Routine

Bath. Stories. Song. Kisses. Bed.

That's the routine.

Though I do sing to my kids quite frequently, the nighttime "song" is always played off my iPhone, and the kids get to pick if they want "rock 'n' roll" or "something mellow." They almost always pick the former, and then the get to bounce around and show off their moves right before laying their precious heads down. The last burst of energy for the day.

I particularly like it when they pick "something mellow," because it doesn't happen very often (usually only when they are trying to con me into a second song). Tonight Porter said "let's hear a mellow song, 'Find Yourself' (from 'Cars')." It was our road trip song from last year, and he's always been sentimental about it, the sensitive child that he is. I was happy to oblige.

"Okay, then," I said, "crawl into bed and I'll tuck you in and we can listen."

Porter quietly protested, "but I want to do Tai-chi."

Sometimes I just stare at my child with my jaw open for longer than is appropriate. "Alright, then. Let's see it."

Not only did the child do the best inexperienced-but-feeling-it Tai-chi ever (in my opinion), but he influenced his sister to do the same. So we did Tai-chi before bed tonight and reflected on our lives as we found ourselves once again.

All thanks to Po.

Once again.

The Bottom Line

I try my best to be a calm mother. I take deep breaths, and I count. I ignore my children if it's in the best interest of everyone involved so child services doesn't get called. And if things are going haywire in the car, I turn my music up and tell myself that it's better for the kids to beat the shit out of each other than for me to overturn our car trying to avert the inevitable.

We had quite a few errands to run with quite a bit of driving today, and Campbell was in a horrible mood. She cried because she was thirsty, then she cried because she threw her water bottle out of reach. Didn't want shoes, then wanted them back on. Wanted Mimi (special blankie), then tossed her (it) on the floor...it just went on and on. And on. And on. I tried the music and the ignoring, but she just screamed louder since she's so sensitive to loud noises (except herself).

After what seemed like three months of enclosed car torture, Porter finally turned to Campbell and said "You know what your problem is? You cry too much!"

She was silent for the rest of the ride.

Mommy Calling Lessons

A short while after putting the littles down for their nap today, Campbell said "Mommy, poo-poo again," letting me know she needed her diaper changed. Again.

As I was finishing up our lunch dishes before responding, I listened on the monitor. Porter instructed. "No, sis. Not like that. You have to say 'MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY!'" and then she'll come in.

"MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY!" Cam repeated.

"That's right," encouraged Po. "Then you say it like this: 'MOOOOOOOmy!'"

"MOOOOOOOmy!"

"Great, sis. Now say 'Mom-MY!'"

Cam repeated "Mom-MY!" in quick cadence just like Po.

"Good job, sis. Now you have to put it all together like this: 'MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY! MOOOOOOOmy! Mom-MY!' Try it."

"MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY! MOOOOOOOmy! Mom-MY!"

Giggles all around, including me.

"That's perfect, sis."

Cam agreed, "perfect."

"Next, I'll teach you a trick. Go clap, clap, 'boom, boom, chooooo-chooooo," Po went on. I finally went in to change the poo-poo diaper that started it all. When I entered the room, Po admitted, "Mommy, I'm teaching her some tricks!"

"I can hear that!" I said. Now if only he could teach her how to use the potty.

A Little Respect

I have a paper flower in my car that resides in a compartment under my visor. Porter made it for me a couple of years ago during a trip to the Children's Museum of Phoenix. He wanted me to keep it in my car, and there it has been ever since. He'll occasionally remind me that he made it for me at the museum and ask me if I still like it.

Yesterday I flipped down my visor for a moment and he saw the flower. "Mommy, why is the flower all smashed up?"

"Well, Po, since it's under my visor, it gets smashed, so it's more like a pressed flower. It's still beautiful, and every time I see it I think of you."

He thought for a moment and declared, "next time we go to the museum, I am going to make you another flower. You need to make sure it doesn't get smashed. I really want you to respect the flower, Mommy. You need to work on having some respect."

Why is it that almost every time he sasses me he's too damn smart to punish? This is my parenting downfall with him.

Tai-chi

Porter was doing some sort of slow-motion dance with more control and concentration than I've ever seen. "Look, Mommy. I'm doing Tai-chi."

"Oh my gosh, Po. How do you even know what that is?" I questioned.

"It's a slow sport that you do to relax," he explained, "and I'm doing it really good."

"Yes you are. But how do you know how to do it?"

"I'm a smart guy."

First Thing's First

The littles and I are baking cupcakes this afternoon. Po loves to help pour all of the ingredients into the bowl and help me hold the mixer. And, of course, both kiddos love to lick the beaters. When I told Po I was ready for his help, he asked, "can we do the tasting part first?"

I'm not sure how that would work, but I like his thinking.

Santa's Energy Consumption

I'm finding that Po is primed for fun facts and figures during our drive to B's school in the morning. The fun fact is always preceded by several minutes of silence, so I know his wheels are turning. This morning he was contemplating Santa's power supply:

"I bet Santa has to use a REALLY big battery to power his toy machine."

I said, "I don't even know if they make batteries that big. I bet he uses electricity."

"Nope. It's a big battery."

And so the dilemma has been solved. I wonder if Santa has to replace his battery as often as we have to replace the ones in the toys he brings. Wouldn't that be sweet justice?

He'll Huff and He'll Puff

We were driving past Mountain Pointe High School this morning, and Po busts out with this:

"I observe that the high school is made of brick, so the big bad wolf will not be able to blow it down."

We can now all rest easy.

The Definition of Sharing

It never ceases to amaze me how my intelligent, verbally gifted child can outsmart me. This afternoon I was in my bedroom folding laundry when I heard an all-out shriek from both Po and Cam at the same time. As I dropped everything and bolted into the family room, I pictured blood and bruises. Instead, I found two toddlers and one mailbox toy. And, of course, there are no other toys in the house.

In between sobs, Po was able to get out that he was playing with the mailbox and "SHE just TOOK it!" By that time, Cam had calmed and was happily playing with the mailbox. I picked the mailbox up and told them both (over the screams) that I would be holding it until we got to the bottom of it. Since Cam could only say "MINE!" upon interrogation and Po was too emotional to think straight, I requested they share the toy.

Through his large panicked mouth, Po cited his alternate definition of sharing. "THAT WON'T WORK, MOMMY! WE CAN'T SPLIT IT IN HALF. IT'S MADE OF PLASTIC!"

The mailbox is now mine. MINE!

No Lack of Confidence

When we were out and about today, Po declared after some time of silence, "People are staring at me because I look so cool."

I stifled my guffaw out of respect for his coolness.

They Grow Up So Fast

Po and Cam share a room, and occasionally they'll have a little chat before they fall asleep, though usually they keep to themselves. I put them down a bit ago, then started listening to them on the monitor as I realized they were having quite a lengthy discussion.

I caught Po saying "...and then when I get older, I can hold you. I like to hold you, but I never get to. So when I grow up, I'll hold you. But now I'm just three. So when I grow up, I'll hold you."

Cam asked "grow up, too, Po-Po? Grow up, too?"

Po explained, "yeah, you'll grow up, too. I know! When you grow up, you can hold me!"

Cam then said, "grow up, too. Grow up, too. Po-po, grow up, too. Mimi (blankie) grow up, too? Mimi, too?"

I suppose Po had drifted off to sleep at that point, because she didn't receive a response. It's news to me that he wants to hold her. He's never even tried, and if I so much ask them to get in the vicinity of each other for a picture all hell breaks loose. You can bet your ass I'm going to let him hold her when they wake up.

Continuous Disappointment

This evening while Po was brushing his teeth, I was loosely supervising and checking out the label on the back of the toothpaste tube. After reading a bit, I put it back in the drawer.

Porter looked at me with sympathy and said, "did you think there was going to be a train on the back?"

I giggled a little bit and said, "no, I didn't. Why would I think that?"

"Well, that's what I think when I look at the back of things."

Control Issues

Porter has been having a bit of an issue lately with waiting until the very last minute to use the potty, so he has dribbling accidents on the way to relieve himself.

As I was helping him out of the bathtub this evening, he said "Mommy, I think it's so cool how when I get in the warm water, if I peed a little on my leg that day, it just goes right away!"

"Yes, Po, it does. That's why we take baths at the end of the day. To wash all of the dirt from the day away so we can go to bed comfy and clean. But you know what I'd really like?"

"No. What?" he asked.

"I would like it if you could try harder to make it to the potty before you get pee on your leg."

"Yeah, but I can't," he answered.

"Why?"

"Well, because inside my penis is an intestine thing, and the iris takes the pee to the blood and the blood carries it around my body and then it just SHOOTS out, and I can't control myself."

A little bit choking, I said "Okay. But did you know that your brain controls all of that, and you can think in your brain to hold the pee in until you get to the potty."

"No, my brain can't control my penis."

If he only knew.

The Abominable Snowman

We were listening to NPR in the car this morning on the way to drop B off at school, and the main topic was the recent shooting. The reporter began speaking about Obama's pending trip to Tucson, and Porter shouted out "Obama?"

"Yes, President Obama is coming to Tucson to show his support," I explained.

"Obama...sounds like the Abominable Snowman! Can I get a book about the Abominable Snowman for my birthday, 'cause I'd really like to know more about him?"

I'm guessing there are more books about Obama to choose from, but I'll do my best.

Favorite Shows

Daddy was making sure one of my "favorite shows" was recording on the DVR this evening while I supervised bathtime. Po asked what my favorite show is.

"The Bachelor," I admitted.

"Oooooooooooooo! I LOVE THE BACHELOR!" Po exclaimed.

"Really? What do you love about it?"

"Well, the name."

"You like the way 'The Bachelor' sounds?" I inquired.

"Yes, because it sounds like 'Batman' only more rockin'."

That's why I like it, too. Um...yeah.