The Difference between Boys & Girls

Warning:  Contains material some may consider x-rated.  I chalk it up to a child's innocence and curiosity.  Either way, if you don't appreciate body-part humor, read no further. 

Laurence was in the bath Sunday night and asks, "Mommy, tell me again why your peeps is inside out?"  Yes, we've discussed this subject once or twice, but the "inside-out" description is new!  I said, "Well, girls and boys have different parts, that's the way we're made."  He thought for a while and said, "And when girls grow up to be adults, they grow hair there, right?"  I explained that teenage boys & girls both grow hair there, and he wondered why.  "For protection," I said.  "Oh," he said, and paused, "and little boys & girls don't need protection because we wear underwear!"   

Good nap, apparently.

Nothing seemed different when I heard the same sweet little voice calling "Mommy!  Mommy!" that I hear thru the monitor every afternoon at the conclusion of nap time.  It was like any other day.  

But I get upstairs, open the door, walk to the crib and find this ---> 

grinning up at me!  That's some of the best bed head I've ever seen, and I just had to share.

Besides, Loic needs a bit more representation here on "Eleven...Hello?!" don't you think?

Santa's Native Language

Out of the blue today Laurence asks, "What do they speak in Spain?"  I said, "They speak Spanish there."  "What about Brazil?" he asked.  "Their language is Portugese," I responded.  "Oh...well, what do they say at the North Pole?"  Oh boy!  I was about to say something about Santa speaking all of the languages, thinking if I didn't he'd ask how Santa reads all the kids' letters.  But then I thought that seemed too far-fetched for the big guy in the red suit.  So, just as I was about to say that Santa's elves are not only handy but speak a variety of languages and are very good interpreters, Laurence pipes up and says, "They say 'Ho, ho, ho!'"  Of course that's what they SAY!  Who could argue with that?

Keeping Up with Haley's Mom

Laurence goes to school on Thursdays and Fridays, Thursdays being "cold lunch" days, meaning I pack him a lunch.  I don't know what it is, but this is one task I'd rather not have to do.  But I do it anyway, and do it with love, of course.  When Laurence isn't watching I sneak a little treat in there -- a fruit roll-up, a couple of cookies, or something along those lines.  On the way home from school I always ask him if he ate all of his lunch because when he happily says, "I found a fruit roll-up in there!" (or whatever it was that day) it makes the dreaded lunch-making almost worthwhile.  Today it was some candy from his Easter basket.  I was anxious to hear his response to my usual question, but I never got the chance to ask.  We weren't even out of the parking lot at school when he said, "Mommy, can you pack a card in my lunch next week?"  "A card?  What do you mean?" I asked.  "A card that you write to me...to remind me that you love me.  That's what Haley's mom does."  He continued, "I want one of those every week."  Ouch.  I guess Haley's mom truly knows how to pack a lunch with love.  Maybe this is my problem with packing lunches.  My approach has been all wrong.    

His Gears were Turning

I was in the shower yesterday morning while Loic was happily playing in the Pack 'n Play in the bathroom.  Well, playing AND pooping, apparently.  Wow, can that boy stink up a room!  Anyway, I dried off, threw on some clothes, and called to Laurence to bring me a diaper from the living room.  I thanked him and said something like, "We should keep some diapers in here," then proceeded to change Loic.  While I was drying my hair Loic wandered in & out as usual, opening and closing the vanity drawers each time (also a daily occurrence - emptying the drawers, filling the drawers, emptying, filling, etc.).  I thought nothing of it until he said "Mommy!  Bipe!"  (That's what he calls diapers.)  I looked at him and he pointed, clearly pleased with himself, to the bottom drawer, now overflowing with size 5 Huggies Natural Fits.  Ah ha!  By "Mommy!  Bipe!" he meant, "Mommy, you told Laurence we should keep some diapers in here, so why don't we?  This drawer is the perfect spot, so I brought several from the living room to put in it."  Little minds amaze me.  Not only had he comprehended what I said to his brother, he had the problem-solving skills to come up with a solution and the follow-thru to act upon it.  I must say that I find his initiative rather inspiring.  Good work, Little Man.

Heard Over a Cup of Hot Chocolate

I keep telling people that Laurence can read, mostly to convince myself, I think.  I don't mean to brag, nor sound like a broken record.  It's just that I'm not at all used to this new skill.  No, not "new" skill.  Growing skill.  RAPIDLY growing skill.  When I hear him tackle a new word or use a rule he's just learned, I find myself at a loss for words.  And that's pretty rare -- me at a loss for words.  

Just this morning he was looking at the folder we got from the vet and read "My Important Documents" with no hesitation.  I looked over at him, mouth wide open, and could think of nothing to say.  I know I looked like a fool.  "WHAT, Mommy?" he asked.  "Did you just read 'My important documents?'" I replied.  He giggled and said, "Yes, but why are you looking at me that way?  That IS what it says."  Right.  Of course.  "Oh, I know.  I just forget that you can read such big words," I told him.  With that, he went to take another sip of his hot chocolate, but paused, looking thoughtfully at the mug he was holding.  "Duke Schedule Training...June 2007."  Perfect.  Right down to the non-American pronunciation of schedule.  (You know -- "sh" instead of "sk.")  OK, I'm convinced.  Laurence can read.

What is that, Velcro?

The boys have become fascinated with this little patch of woods between our house and one of the neighbors'.  I suppose these woods are technically IN our neighbor's yard, but who's getting technical?  I use the term "woods" rather loosely.  It's actually about 8 mature trees, planted very close together, with some dead bushes and brush underfoot, all surrounded by a border made up of some pretty good sized rocks.  The entire area is about the size of my living room, but to the boys, it's the woods.  Anyway, we were out there this afternoon -- I sitting on my favorite rock, the boys exploring.  It was chilly, so the boys had on cotton gloves, and Loic was sporting this great knit hat I got for myself in Switzerland, made of the softest yarn you can imagine (yes, this becomes important later).  I hear Loic's panicked little voice saying, "Mommmmy!  Mommmmy!" so I look around and can't see him -- he's behind one of the trees.  I stand up and he's standing there, a look of fear on his face, stuck to this dead-looking plant type thing that's covered in burrs.  The more he wiggles and tries to get free, the more burrs he acquires on his gloves and my hat!  I was so tempted to leave him there and run to the house to get my camera.  It was cute & pathetic, the combination of which always makes for some good pictures.  But, I resisted, pried him away from the burr-plant, and stripped him of his winter accessories.  I spent the next 15 minutes pulling burrs off of the gloves & hat, all while answering Laurence's never-ending questions about the annoying, prickly little suckers.  Those things are persistent!  And Laurence, too.

The whole episode reminded me of my first trip to visit Bill the summer after we started dating.  His parents live in the country with plenty of acreage on which the various dogs they had over years could explore to their hearts' content (yeah, they even had some real woods).  Anyway, their Irish Setter, Erin, ran up onto the porch one day covered in burrs.  She looked ridiculous, and I figured she was uncomfortable, so I painstakingly picked each and every one out of her hair.  She seemed grateful and laid down in the sun, letting me pet her for all of 5 minutes.  Then, up she got, ran off, and came back a few minutes later...covered in burrs.  I can only hope Loic has more sense than that darn Irish Setter.  I want no more burrs in my near future.

Interestingly enough, I looked up "burr" on Wikipedia just before starting this entry, to make sure I had my terminology right (no, the site doesn't refer to anything as the "dead-looking plant-type thing"), and learned that burrs were the inspiration for velcro.