Sunday, October 28, 2012

Wild Kratts

Son #1 loves to watch a show called The Wild Kratts.  It is a cute show about two brothers who study and rescue animals.

One day while eating supper, Son #1 began to tell me about the Kratt brothers' latest adventure.  He detailed how they cared for the peregrine falcon.  I sat in rapt wonder about my son's knowledge of falcons.  Then Son #1 said.  "Wouldn't it be cool if Son #2 and I were the Kratt brothers?"

"That would be cool."  I responded with a smile.

"Yeah and my baby bro's name could be Martin and my name could be Chris!"  He exclaimed with glee.

(For those not familiar with the Kratt brothers, their names are Martin and Chris.)

"That sounds cool."  I said.  "But what would be even cooler is if you were the Wild Stumphs."

Son #1 looked at me with eyes crossed and chortled.  "That's just silly.  We can't be the Wild Kratts if we're the Wild Stumphs."

Saturday, October 27, 2012

What's Wrong With Your Legs?

After eating lunch with family, we all sat around the house talking as the kids played with toys.  It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon and we were still dressed up from church that morning.  My sister was wearing black tights with a very stylish dress.  Son #1 came around the corner and noticed my sister's legs.  He rubbed her leg curiously and asked.  "Why are your legs black?"

My sister replied.  "I'm wearing nylons."  She continued to carry on her conversation with the rest of the adults in the room.

Son #1 looked perplexed and continued to rub her leg.  He kept inching higher and higher trying to figure out what nylons were and why her legs did not look like his mommy's.  Finally, he lifted up her dress to see how high the nylons went.  My sister said in shocked consternation.  "What are you doing??"

Son #1 shrugged and sheepishly said.  "I don't know."

My sister asked.  "Are you trying to see how high the nylons go?"  She snapped the waist band of her nylons and explained.  "They are like your pants.  They go all the way up to my waist."

Son #1 looked at her and said.  "Oh."  He was still confused.  You could see the big question marks hanging over his head.

My sister laughed and said.  "I guess your mommy doesn't wear nylons."

To which I replied.  "Nope."

Friday, October 26, 2012

The Dance

Son #2 loves music.  He loves to play with the piano, the drums, and the guitars.  He also loves to dance and will bounce up and down while looking over his shoulder.

The other day, my husband and I were watching a movie.  Son #2 was running willy-nilly around the room playing with his toys.  All of a sudden, a hip hop song began to play.  Son #2 stopped, ran toward the TV, held the table, and began to bop up and down.  He slyly looked over his shoulder at us, laughed, and began to dance even faster.

Watching Son #2 dance is hysterical.  However, capturing his dance on video eludes us most of the time.  His dance is our unicorn.

Well, we've finally captured our unicorn, baby!  Check out his saggy pants.

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better

Have you ever heard of these lyrics?

Anything you can do I can do better...
I can do anything better than you...
No you can't!
Yes I can! No you can't!
Yes I can! No you can't!
Yes I can!
Yes I can!

Sometimes, I can see Son #2 and Son #1 in a competitive dance for total domination of their little world.

Tonight, Son #1 sat on his little red chair eating his soup at the coffee table.  Son #2 eyed it with utter fascination.  When Son #1 got up from his chair to sit on the couch with his soup, Son #2 scrambled down from my lap.  He toddled to the chair and climbed up onto it.

There he sat perched like a cat on a tree limb waiting for the next bird to fly by.  He shifted his weight from leg to leg debating whether to stand up and walk on the table. 

Son #1 sat down beside him on the floor.  He and his little brother chatted in their little language.  Son #2 was getting a little wobbly on the red chair, so I asked for a favor.  "Son #1, could you get your little brother off the chair?"

Son #1 obediently and carefully lifted his baby brother from the red chair to the floor.  At first, Son #2 smiled and cooed but then Son #1 sat down in his chair.  Son #2 was incensed.  He let out a sharp scream to which Son #1 replied.  "No, baby bro!"

Son #2 screamed again.  Son #1 said loudly.  "No, baby bro!"

They went back and forth for a time until I could not take it any longer.  I said.  "Son #1, if you will get up, I will take your chair to your room."  Son #1 scrambled to the couch and I quickly scooped the red chair from the floor.  I walked quickly to the room with Son #2 close on my heels.  He let out one final scream as I popped the chair out of his reach.  He stretched his hand towards the elusive chair but was prohibited from grasping it by the almighty Baby Gate. 

Ah, little boys, you have the song all wrong.  It goes like this.

Anything either one of you can do...
Mommy always does better...
Heh heh!

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Skipping Rocks

One Saturday afternoon, I got a bug to go down to the lake.  I begged and cajoled my husband until he finally obliged me.  As we drove, storm clouds crept along the horizon towards our car.  Halfway to our destination, it began to sprinkle.  Fortunately, it never broke out into a full down pour.

When we arrived at the lake, the kids put on their life jackets and ran to the water.  Son #1 hopped like a frog over rocks and twigs.  He splashed about from boulder to boulder.  The water was cold but that did not seem to stop him.  Son #2 and I picked our way across the shore line.  Son #2 was determined to walk across rocks just like his big brother.

While the boys and I amused ourselves, my husband went in search of the perfect skipping rocks.  He spied a treasure trove of them and called Son #1 over to him.  My husband gave Son #1 a mini lesson on skipping rocks.  Then, they proceeded to send them skimming across the water.  Jealous of their fun, I ran over to get in on the action.

There is nothing better than skipping rocks on a beautiful Saturday afternoon with two little boys and a handsome husband.

Animal Race

One Saturday afternoon, Son #1 played with some plastic toy animals on our coffee table.  As he lined them up to race, he assigned my husband and I to the lion and giraffe.  Naturally, Son #1 was the bear. 

The animals raced along the coffee table track.  My husband's lion pulled ahead with Son #1's bear in a close second.  I lagged in fifth place.  The drama ensued as the lion and bear jockeyed for first place.  Sadly, my giraffe fell further and further behind.

Son #1 shouted with excitement.  "Dad, I'm winning and you're right behind me!"

My husband replied.  "Cool son!  Where's your mama?"

Son #1 said.  "Oh, she's in last place."

In mock irritation, I demanded.  "Hey!  Why do I have to lose?  I wanna win, too!"

Son #1 saw the error of his ways and stated.  "Ok Mama.  You're catching up.  You're rounding the corner.  Bam!  Bam!  Oooh!  You wrecked Dad!  Good job, Mama!  Now you're in first place!"

"Sweet!"  I replied with satisfaction.

He's a good son.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Want Ba?

Sundays are our lazy days.  Son #1 was playing a pirate game on the computer and Son #2 was exploring his toys. 

That morning, Son #1 shouted from his perch at the computer.  "Mama, I'm hungry."

I was curled up on the couch watching I Love Lucy and shouted a reply.  "Hang on a second."

Slowly, I removed my self from the couch and meandered to the kitchen.  Once there, I yelled.  "What do you want Son?"

He replied.  "I don't know."

I sighed and went down the list of possibilities.  "Do you want cereal?"

Son #1 quickly responded.  "No."

"Do you want a sandwich?"  I offered.

"No."  Son #1 said.

"Do you want a cheese burrito?"  I shouted.

"No."  Son #1 stated.

"Do you want an apple?"  I yelled with a sigh.

"No."  Son #1 shouted.

"What DO you want?"  I asked a little irritated.

Then, I heard a tiny baby suggest.  "BA!"  (Translation:  Bottle)

If you can't make up your mind on what you want for breakfast, Son #2 recommends you try a Ba. 

Friday, October 19, 2012

Junk in the Trunk

One sunny afternoon, my husband and I sat in the living room talking and laughing.  Son #1 played outside in the backyard while Son #2 ran around the house chewing on various toys.  On one of Son #2's flybys, a foul smell assaulted our noses.

My husband turned to me and said.  "I think we have a poop diaper."

"Man, I don't want to change it this time.  I'm so tired."  I whined.

"Fine."  He said grumpily.  "But you have to help me."

"Alright."  I said in a growly voice.

My husband took our stinky baby to his room and announced.  "Change you!"

Usually, Son #2 lies down and patiently waits while we fix him up.  That afternoon was not one of those times.  Before my husband could get his diaper off, Son #2 rolled away and took off like a streak of lightening down the hallway.  As he rounded the corner to the kitchen, we caught a glimpse of his heavily loaded diaper swaying wildly.

There was definitely plenty of junk in our baby's trunk.


Tuesday, October 16, 2012

The Telephone

One night, my husband and I  were sitting on the couch talking and watching a show on the television.  Son #2 toddled toward us with his toy phone.  He wanted our attention so he fussed and tossed the toy phone onto my lap.

I picked up the phone, put it to my ear, and said.  "Hello, hello?  Oh hi!  How are you?  Oh, you want to talk to Son #2.  Hang on a second."

I put the phone next to our little baby's ear and pressed the talk button.  The toy phone chirped.  "Hello?"

Son #2's eyes grew wide and he smiled with delight.  Then, he began to babble to the tiny voice inside the phone.

When he was through, he handed the phone back to me.  I placed the phone on my ear and chatted to my imaginary friend.  "Uh huh.  Oh really.  That is so interesting.  Uh huh.  Uh huh.  Oh, you want to talk to Son #2 again.  O.k.  Here he is."

Son #2 leaned his head toward the phone and listened.  The phone announced.  "Let's sing!"

I pressed the button on the phone again and the tiny voice in the phone sang the ABC song.  Son #2 was thrilled.  He clapped his hands and babbled to his new found friend.  I pressed the button once more and the phone said.  "Love you!"

Son #2 replied in baby talk.  "I love you, too."

We love you, too Little Goo!

Saturday, October 13, 2012


The other day, we had a birthday lunch for Abuelita (Grandma).  All of Abuelita's children and grandchildren sat around the large table in the restaurant talking and laughing.  One of the conversations took a very interesting turn.

Tia (Aunt) directing her question to Son #1:  How was school yesterday?

Son #1:  Good.  We took pictures.

Tia:  Oh really.

Son #1:  Yeah.  And my pants broke.

Tia:  Where did they break?

Son #1:  What?

Tia:  Did they break on the zipper or the crotch?

Son #1 in his voice that carries across restaurant establishments:  CROTCH!


Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Toothbrush Fascination

Son #2 has eight baby teeth.  He also has a Lightening McQueen toothbrush.  Very fancy!  Son #2 is learning to brush his teeth.  Most of the time he just sucks on his toothbrush.

The other day while straightening up the bathroom, I handed my little baby his toothbrush.  He admired it for a time and then stuck it into his mouth.  As he sucked on his toothbrush, he toddled around the bathroom and patted various items.  The items he investigated around the bathroom did have some allure to them but he was always drawn back to his toothbrush.

I had just finished tidying up.  I knelt down and smiled at Son #2.  Then, I stuck out my hand to retrieve the toothbrush and said.  "My turn."

Son #2 eyed me with suspicion and back away.  I lightly placed my hand on the toothbrush and chided.  "Son, I have to put the toothbrush away."

Son #2 held on tightly to his toothbrush and pouted.  I gently took the toothbrush from his little hands and said.  "Let's go play with some toys."

Son #2 did not like my idea at all and began to cry.  I hugged him and carried him to his room.  We sat down on the rug and tried to find a toy that was more interesting than his toothbrush.  Son #2 tossed every toy that I handed him away.  Finally, I stood up and said.  "Baby, you can't run around the house with a toothbrush in your mouth all day long."

To that Son #2 replied.  "Ba."  (Translation:  Bottle)

I guess Son #2 has figured out that he can run around with a "Ba" in his mouth.

Monday, October 8, 2012


A few weeks ago, we sat down to enjoy some really delicious cornbread and vegetable soup.  As I was relishing my soup, Son #1 looked at me with his puppy dog eyes and asked.  "Mama, can I have your cornbread?" 

"Of course!"  I replied.  I gave him mine and then went to get another.

Son #1 savored his soup and cornbread with a look of pure joy on his face.  When he was done, he went off to play.

A few days later, we sat down to some vegetable soup and scrumptious cornbread.  Again as I sipped my soup with delight, Son #1 batted his long eyelashes and asked.  "Mama, can I have your cornbread?"

I smiled and replied.  "Sure baby." 

Son #1 bit off the top of the cornbread muffin.  I was just about to get another piece of cornbread for myself when I heard a little voice say.  "Here Mama.  You can have it back."

"Do you not want it?"  I questioned.

"No.  You know I don't like cornbread."  Son #1 stated in a matter-of-fact voice.


Yeah.  I'm confused.  Five year old kids are fickle things.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Bye Squeaky

Son #2 is wearing shoes when he walks.

One early morning, we put on a pair of new summery shoes.  He bent over to admire them and then took his first tentative steps.  His shoes squeaked.  Son #2 stopped and investigated them again.  He stood and took a few more steps.




Son #2 laughed as he ran all over the house.  It wasn't a regular sprint either.  Son #2 was purposefully stomping as he ran causing his shoes to squeak with intensity.

Fifteen to twenty minutes of nonstop squeaking passed.  A sweaty little baby raced from room to room shrieking with joy.  While all this ruckus was happening, our eldest son was getting ready to go to school.

Son #1 grabbed his backpack and lunch bag.  He followed his dad to the garage door.  Just before he walked through the door, Son #1 turned to his younger brother and shouted.  "BYE SQUEAKY!"

Son #2 stopped and grinned at his brother.  Then with a squeal of laughter, he was off again.

Friday, October 5, 2012

The Gun Fight

Imagine, if you will, two maverick gun fighters wielding their imaginary finger guns close to their sides as they hide behind door frames and walls.  Tension hangs in the air.  You can almost hear the theme song of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly just before the gun battle begins.

Son #1 narrows his eyes.  I crouch down as low as my post surgery body will allow.  In an instant, Son #1 leaps over toys in the living room and sprints down the hallway to begin his attack.  Like a cobra, I strike spraying imaginary bullets at my miniature attacker.  My little boy dives to the ground and rolls away all while firing his pretend finger gun at me.  I hobble semi-quickly and hide behind furniture in the baby's room.

All is silent.  A fan blows a stray dust bunny down the hallway.  Who will be victorious?  Only time will tell.

My money is on Son #1.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Star of the Day!

The other day, Son #1 came home and announced that he was the STAR OF THE DAY!!!!  I'm so proud of Son #1.  You have to understand that Son #1 is a wild man and being Star of the Day is huge for him.

He and his dad celebrated with Frosties.  It was a big day.  The next day, we celebrated a little more with popsicles.  The day after that, we celebrated even more by making gingerbread men.  He was one happy little son.  We were incredibly happy parents.

The celebrations were not entirely without an ulterior motive.  Subliminally and not so subliminally, we were implanting his mind with this idea: 

Listen and obey and we'll celebrate all day.  Monkeying around just doesn't pay.


(ha ha)

Monday, October 1, 2012

Tortilla is Not Your Bottle!

Son #2 knows how to ask for his bottle.  He will usually ask for "Ba", "Ba Ba Ba", "Babtle", or "My Ba" when he is hungry. 

The other day, Son #2 toddled into the kitchen and pulled on my pant leg.  I looked down and asked.  "What is the matter, baby?"

My little baby peered up at me and said.  "Ba, ba, ba."

I replied.  "Oh, you want your bottle.  Let me get you your bottle." 

I went to the refrigerator, grabbed the soy milk, and returned to the counter to fill his bottle.  When I had finished, I picked up my little one and handed him the bottle.  Son #2 took one look at the bottle, pushed it away, and rubbed his face in disgust. 

I asked my son in confusion.  "Don't you want your bottle?"

Son #2 shook his head from side to side and then said.  "My ba."

Again, I handed him his bottle but this time Son #2 began to cry.  He whimpered in frustration.  "Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba!"  I had no idea what to do next.

In desperation, I went to the refrigerator and started handing him whatever I could grab.  Son #2 would push the item away and cry even louder.  Finally, I grabbed a tortilla, rolled it, and placed it in his tiny hand.  Son #2 smiled and cooed.  Then, he exclaimed.  "My ba!"

I gave him a funny look and countered.  "That's a TORTILLA...not your bottle."

Driving the Race Cart

Vroom, vroom, vroom, vroooooooooom!  Son #2 stepped on the race cart's invisible gas pedal and mentally prepared for the race around Albertson. 

"Seat belt?  Check.  Plastic toy wheel?  Check.  Mama pushing the cart?  Check."  Son #2 said aloud in incomprehensible baby talk.

Son #2 glanced from side to side to check out his competitors.  He gunned the pretend engine one more time and then placed his hands on the steering wheel.  Impatiently, he waited for the flag to drop. 

Suddenly, the carts were off speeding along the aisles of the grocery store.  Son #2 skidded around corners and sped along the straight-a-ways.  From time to time, he would draft behind another cart and then sling shot past them when given the chance. 

Every now and then, he would have to make a pit stop to grab a few grocery items.  Son #2 would drum his finger tips on the wheel in frustration and complain in gibberish.  "Mama, hurry up!  I need to get back in the race!  I need to win!"

Finally, Son #2 was coming up on the final lap.  He worked his way up to the front of the pack and was fighting for first place with his nemesis, another baby in a race cart.  Who would get to the check out line first?  Only time could tell.  With only the last turn to go, Son #2 gunned the gas pedal.  He sped past the other cart and into first place.  Success!  He had won the race to the check out line!

Congratulations Son #2!  You've won the Albertson's Cup!