Thursday, February 27, 2014

The Decorative Soap

Just an hour ago, Son #1 was preparing to take a shower.  I helped him check the temperature of the water, select his pajamas, and find a fluffy towel.  While all of this was happening, I noticed a smudge of toothpaste on the counter.  Nonchalantly, I rubbed out the toothpaste with my thumb.  Now the toothpaste was on my thumb.  Yuck.  Son #1 watched with interest as I reached for a small decorative soap by the faucet.  The soap was in the shape of a sparrow's egg.  Dark brown speckles dotted its bright blue hue.  His brow furrowed with concern.  "Mom, why are you washing your hands with a bird's egg?"

I laughed and responded.  "It's not a bird's egg.  It's hand soap.  Look.  Isn't it cool?"  Son #1 peaked over the counter top at the blue, speckled egg lying in a tiny, decorative nest.  He looked confused.

"It looks like a baby bird is in the egg.  Are you sure it's not alive?"  He asked.

"I'm positive."  I assured my son.  "I got the soap from a friend.  It won't hatch.  It's not real."

Son #1 stood on tiptoes and gazed at the decorative soap once more.  Then, he sighed and walked slowly to the shower.  Just as he was about to get in, he paused and turned to face me.  "But Mom, what if the egg hatches???"

I held his hands and tried to comfort my worried little boy.  "It's O.K.  I promise that the egg will not hatch.  It's soap."  Then, I helped him into the shower. 

All was quiet for a moment and then I heard my son call out.  "It better be soap or else you've been washing your hands with a baby bird!!!"

Sunday, February 16, 2014

The Pizza Slice

Last night, a small group of relatives gathered at our house to watch the Olympics.  My husband prepared pizza from scratch in the kitchen as the kids commandeered iPhones and iPads from their unsuspecting elders.  Everyone talked loudly as several conversations clamored for dominance.  The heavenly scent of cheese, sauce, veggies, and dough filled the air.  Finally, the oven timer rang out.  It was time to eat.

The boys rushed to the kitchen greedily grabbing pizza from the pan.  Quickly, they scurried back to the living room to hungrily devour their slices.  Eventually, everyone settled down among cushions or against furniture to watch the athletes compete.

Midway through the Olympic events, Son #2 got up from his seat and began to run around the living room with his half eaten pizza slice.  Slivers of melted cheese and drops of pizza sauce flew into the air as he ran circles in front of the television. 

My husband called out.  "Little Son!  Sit down.  Eat your pizza."

"No. No."  Son #2 answered gleefully.  He continued to weave between the adults in the room.

I tried to help reinforce my husband's request.  "Baby, sit down and eat your food."

Son #2 paused for a second.  "No. No."  Then, he wiped his greasy hand down his shirt and continued to run.

Abuelita (Grandma) tried to convince the little monkey to sit down.  "Come sit by me.  Look at what I have."  She enticed as she held up her iPad. 

Son #2 peered at the iPad from his sauce encrusted face but decided to continue running.  Then, he dropped his slice of pizza on the floor. 

Tia (Aunt) commented wryly.  "You're kid just dropped his food on the floor."

"Yeah.  I know."  I replied.  Then to my youngest son, I said.  "Baby, that's gross.  Look!  You dropped your food on the floor.  Are you all done?"

"No. No."  Son #2 cried and continued to race around the room.  I'm sure his pizza contained a small collection of lint.

Tia tried to redirect her wild little nephew.  "Are you all done?  Put your pizza on your plate.  It's yucky."

"Oh.  No. No."  Son #2 replied.  At that point, he was flinging himself onto the couch. 

All of a sudden, Son #2 stopped his ridiculous game and calmly walked to me with a serious look on his face.  He held out his fuzzy pizza slice and stated.  "All done."  Then, he sat down beside his Abuelita and quietly played a game.

Toddlers operate on their own time and space continuum much to the annoyance of their parents.

Monday, February 3, 2014

The Training Wheels

I recently bought a used bike for $10.00.  This bike will come in handy considering that I work close to home.  However, it has been twenty plus years since I have ridden a bike.  I wanted to practice riding around the neighborhood before I began to ride to work regularly.  

The other day, my oldest son came home from school shrieking with excitement.  "I got all my home work done!"  I smiled proudly and congratulated Son #1.  Son #1 and I have an agreement about completing assignments at school.  If he does not bring home any homework, we will get to do something fun after school.  Son #1 remembered our agreement and asked anxiously.  "What are we going to do today?"

I paused for a moment and then thought about the bike.  It would be fun to go riding and it was a beautiful day.  "Let's go for a bike ride!"  I suggested.

Son #1 shouted.  "I want to bring my roller blades!"  Then, he ran to his room to put on his gear.

Son #2 toddled up to me and mumbled.  "I wan lollo bades!"  (Translation:  I want my roller blades, too.  Explanation:  Son #2 got roller blades for Christmas from Abuelita - Grandma.  He is quite good at rolling around on the carpet.)

I ignored Son #2's comment but exclaimed.  "Oh, wow!  We get to go for a ride!  Let's get our shoe, shoes."

While I got our youngest son ready, my husband prepared the stroller.  Son #1 flew out of his room with his gear on and headed for the garage.  I bustled Son #2 over to his stroller and buckled him into it.  My husband threw on his roller blades.  I grabbed my bike.  We were ready for our ride around the neighborhood.

As my husband opened the garage door, Son #1 came over to my bike.  He asked.  "Mom, do you know how to ride a bike?"

"Sure, I do."  I replied.  "It's just been a long time since I've ridden one."

Son #1 analyzed my bike and then commented.  "The bike's going to be hard, Mom.  You need to be careful."

"I'll be careful.  You don't need to worry."  I assured my eldest son.

"No really, Mom."  Son #1 reiterated.  "You need to be careful because you don't have training wheels like I did on my bike."

"Am I really going to need training wheels after not riding a bike for twenty-some-odd years???Thought the over confident mom of two.

Apparently, training wheels might have come in handy.  I managed to scrape my leg against the peddle and drop the bike as we came to the first stop sign.