Mommy Bird, Daddy Bird

I usually only post the insane things my kids do. But not today.

When I drop off Oscar at school, there is a "Question of the Day" for the kids to answer with their parent before the parent leaves. Yesterday it was "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Now, Oscar does a lot of pretend play - he's a plumber, a mechanic, a mommy bird or a princess, but we don't talk about what he wants to be when he grows up. It's honestly never come up. So, he didn't know how to answer and that makes him shy. He slinked next to me and quietly said, "I don't know what to do" as other classmates loudly announced what they were going to be: "Astronaut!" and "Yoshi!" (I don't know what that is, but it was one girl's answer). So I said quietly to Oscar, "That's OK, you don't have to know. But sometimes you tell me that you want to be a Daddy. Would you like that to be the answer today?" And he lit up, "Yes, Mommy, yes! I want to be a Daddy!"

Not Even Ice Cream, People

"If you make me rest on this couch, I'm not going to like you, or Daddy... or the baby! Not even ice cream," Oscar informed me this weekend.

And by "informed," I mean "yelled at the top of his lungs" when I was five feet away. I mean, not even ice cream, people. This is a seriously unhappy three year old. It's my fault, of course. I was torturing him with fifteen minutes of forced rest on the couch. He could read or play quietly, but had to stay on the couch for fifteen minutes because his behavior had gottne so insufferably cranky. He almost fell asleep. But he rallied, and his rallying cry was just so good. I had to share it with you all.

Not even ice cream!

Either I Really Hate You or I Want to Get Married

This whole episode is further support of my theory that a three-year-old is really just a very small teenager. The past few days have been, well, let me be frank, hell-ish.

Every day, barely veiled anger directed at me, tantrums, clenched fists and the occasional "I hit you because I'm angry at you, Mommy." I concluded that I just can't do this anymore - this whole raising kids thing. Maybe it's time to get a job and let someone else raise my three-year-old because I am doing such a crap job of it. Let's face it, I think he hates me.

Then last night Oscar tells me that he wants to marry me. Why, I ask. He says "Because I love you soo much and you are the best lady in the whole world."

How can these two strongly opposite emotions coexist in a three-year-old? Sure, the books say this is a developmentally normal stage. I say he's a teenager in a tiny body. I wouldn't be surprised if he starts smoking next week.

p.s. the baby is not sandwich

Time has flown away into a vortex and I haven't posted here in seven months. The "Baby" in the blog title has a name now, and it isn't "Sandwich" as Oscar suggested. It is in fact, August. The "Tornado" is a big brother and seems very OK with the new family scenario, except when the baby cries very loudly. But nobody likes it when the baby does that. I should be honest, we still call him "Baby" more than we call him anything else. And a nickname has yet to emerge as the clear winner.

Just a Warning: This One is About Poop

Until recently we've been using a little toilet for Oscar - one that sits on the floor of the bathroom and must be cleaned out after every use. Last week I switched to a potty ring that sits on the adult sized toilet (and requires no cleanup!). However Oscar is used to sitting on the ground where he can stand up, look inside the potty and check on his progress, especially when he is pooping. He likes to identify the various sized and shaped poops, usually as either a snake or little balls. So, a few days ago he's sitting on the big potty and he is working on a poop. He asks me excitedly if it looks like a snake. I say we'll have to wait and look inside when he's all done. He finishes. We look inside to see several small lumps. Oscar quickly identifies it: "it's a family!"

Turns out Hooters is a great place for kids

I can't take credit for this - it's all my husband's doing. While I was out of town he took Oscar to eat lunch at Hooters. Apparently, it was awesome and Oscar had a great time. He got doted on by all the pretty ladies ("my ladies" as he calls all pretty ladies), got two balloons, a plastic fireman's helmet, a hot dog for lunch and was allowed to take off his shoes and dance in the booth.

I can't help but laugh when I think about it. It's so funny to picture them at Hooter's. Chris says none of the pretty ladies paid any attention to him; they were only interested in Oscar. Which makes it even funnier.

Deep Insights on the Potty

First thing in the morning, I take Oscar to the bathroom to use his potty. I sat with him this morning, humming a tune stuck in my head. He asked me what I was singing. I said I didn't know what it was called, I can only remember two lines which I sang for him, "It's been a long time coming...but change gonna come." It's a slow and sorrowful tune. He hung his head and said "Can't go back home." Did he pick up on the sadness of the tune? I don't know, but it seemed like an awfully grown up response for a 2.5 year old.