Friday, March 30, 2012

New Legs

One day, Son #1 and I were at the local hospital where Abuelita (Grandma) works.  We stood patiently outside the door of the laboratory and dialed her extension.  Abuelita answered and after a brief conversation she said she would come out to the hallway to visit. 

Son #1 sat on a tile and meticulously colored in his coloring book.  A door across the hall opened and a man with a prosthetic leg walked out.  Son #1 looked up, spied the man with the prosthetic leg, and asked.  "Is that where people get new legs?"

I smiled and quietly answered.  "Sure looks like it."

As the man walked down the hall, Son #1 thought for a moment and said.  "When I grow up and visit a hospital, I don't want to get a new leg."

I almost burst a blood vessel trying to keep from laughing and replied.  "Son, when you grow up you can keep your own legs.  No one is going to make you get new legs."

Thursday, March 22, 2012


Son #1 breaks out into dance moves on the spur of the moment. 

Tonight, he decided to do a hip hop inspired shuffle to the tune inside his head.  As I passed by the bathroom, I saw him in full swing so I decided to join in.  Son #1 broke out into a huge grin and then sang the song aloud. 

"I know that song."  I thought to myself so I sang along with him.

Son #1 laughed and we stepped up the dance moves. 

He is such a happy little soul with either a rhythm or tune itching to get out.

Dance little boy!  Dance!

Bo Bo Kisses

Son #2 gives the best baby kisses. 

After I give him a bunch of kisses on the cheek, he will pull my face to his mouth, open it, and then drool all over my face.  It's a drool of love. 

When he finishes giving the bo bo kisses, I lift him up in the air and say.  "Oh, I love the bo bo kisses!" 

He just smiles and replies.  "Goooooo." 

Periodically, a string of drool will land on my forehead.  Some would find that yucky but how can you resist a sweet baby and his drool?

Monday, March 19, 2012

Poop in the Car

There is nothing like a cross country road trip with a five year old and a six month old.  The trip can be full of many mini adventures.  Poop in the car is just one of many mini adventures.

We were stopped at a fabulous rest stop in the middle of Texas.  Son #1 and my husband were playing on the playground.  Son #2 and I were in the back seat of the car getting ready to change his diaper.  I undid his diaper and noted happily that there was only pee.  As I pulled out the new diaper, my tiny son farted.  I grew worried.  He farted again and I noticed poop beginning to surface.

"Oh ______!"  I whispered aloud to noone in particular. 

I scrambled for the wipes but then realized with dismay that they were locked in the trunk of the car.  What was I to do?!  Then I spied the paper towels.  Quickly I grabbed the roll and caught the poo as it began to pour out.  Fortunately, I got it before it landed on the seat.  Whew!

Just when I thought the stream of poo had ended, another began to spew forth. 

"Ahhh!  Not again!"  I quietly screamed to noone in particular.

I caught the load in the paper towel and then looked for a place to store my nasty collection.  I plopped the pile of poo, paper towels, and diaper on the asphalt underneath the car.  Quickly, I placed the clean diaper onto my baby and then frantically rummaged for a plastic bag.  I found the plastic bag but not before a strong wind whipped away the top paper towel filled with poo.  I gasped in shock.  The environmentalist in me raged as the disgusting piece of litter whirled across the parking lot toward the freeway.  I scrambled to grab the rest of the pile and place it into the bag.  I debated chasing the wayward poo paper but it was not to be.  Sadly, the poo paper was too far away and would soon surprise some unsuspecting motorist.

Next time, I'll try not to mess with or on Texas.


My sweet and mellow Son #2 is an instigator. 

Son #1 is a loud, hyper comedian with a penchant for mischief.  He loves to make Son #2 laugh and will do just about anything to get a chuckle. 

The other day, I was holding Son #2 when Son #1 began to run around like a cricket and make silly noises.  Son #2 turned toward the racket and grinned.  Son #1 saw the grin and amped up the silliness.  Son #2 giggled and then let out a screech.  That screech inspired my eldest son to more ridiculousness.  It began to turn into an endless cycle of screeching and ever increasing silliness.

Though I was amused, I eventually had to have them stop.  I assume had they gone on, protons might have split from their ever increasing energy.

Bobbly Head

When Son #2 is held in the standing position, his eyes brighten.  He grins that million dollar smile and his head bobbles about to his internal rhythm.  He and I rap out a tight little drum beat and then play the bobbly bobbly game.  It goes like this.

Me:  Hi baby.  Oh look at you.

Son #2:  Gooooo

Me:  Agoo.  Oh.  Bobbly, bobbly, bobbly.

Son #2 kicks his feet and bobbles his head some more.  He giggles and laughs as we baby talk.

We can do this all day.

Let me rephrase that.  We can do this all day unless he poops, pees, or gets hungry.

Yellow Snow

Last weekend, my husband and I taught Son #1 to ski.  The powder was thick like cotton candy.  Huge flakes tumbled from the ski as the wind tossed large piles of snow fromt the treetops.  Excited, we skated to the bunny hill and it's medival contraption of pain.  Once there, Son #1 and I caught one of the moving arms.  The line extended, the moving arm pulled against me, my skis did not budge, and I fell onto Son #1with a thunderous crash.  Twice more we attempted this until I passed our smashed son to my husband.  I've been skiing for the last 16 years but apparently I can't figure out the ride up the bunny hill.  Sad.

After our adventure up the hill and then subsequent successful trip down the bunny slope, we decided to brave the mountain.  Son #1 was thrilled!  We rode up the lift, watched our son fall off as we got off, and then began our journey down one of the green trails.  Boarders and skiers paused to encourage our little boy as he wound his way down the path.  Son #1 cheerfully engaged the passerbys with conversation about his adventure on the skis.

Our journey down the mountain was long and arduous.  Though my son fell and lost a ski many times, he joyfully and optimistically jumped back up onto his skis. 

Halfway down the mountain, I heard a little voice shriek.  "MAMA, I HAVE TO PEE!" 

I looked at my son and said.  "The bathroom's at the bottom of the mountain.  Can you wait?"

He replied frantically.  "No, I'm going to pee on myself."

I looked at my husband helplessly.  He turned to me and said. "I told you we should have tried the bunny hill a few more times!" 

Though my husband wanted to continue blaming me, he scooped our son up into his arms muttering angrily and then marched across the slope to a bush.  He glanced to either side to make sure noone was coming and then he helped Son #1 make yellow snow. 

Later in the car, my sister-in-law asked Son #1 how he like skiing.  Son #1 replied.  "I liked it!  We went down the mountain and while we were going down I had to pee.  Daddy helped me pee in a bush and the snow turned yellow!"

My sister-in-law's face went white.  "Eww.  I knew I had passed by some funny colored snow." 

Good thing everyone knows not to eat yellow snow...

Saturday, March 3, 2012

My Toy

Son #2 sat beside Son #1 and enviously watched as Son #1 wound his way through paper mazes.  Son #2 reached out his hand toward the marker and thought.  "Gimme.  Mine."

Son #1 moved the marker away from his brother's chubby, little hand and continued to work on his task.

Son #2 leaned forward and reached as far as he could toward the enchanting paper and marker.  His facial expression said.  "Gimme, gimme, gimme.  Mine."

So determined.

Son #1 ignored him and scooted closer to his abuelita.

On Son #2's third attempt to pilfer the coveted toys, Son #1 exclaimed.  "Hey little baby!  Stop trying to get my stuff!"

This is how sibling rivalry begins.