My Mommy is a...

Loic & I were reading together today, and there's a book called "Animal Babies on the Farm," that goes something like this:

Oink! Oink! I have a curly pink tail? Who is my baby? (Turn the page.) My mommy is a pig. I am her piglet.

I was reading up to the "My mommy is a..." part, letting him complete the sentence. Then read, "I am her..." and again, let him complete the sentence. The book continues...

Baa! My coat is thick & wooly. Who is my mommy? My mommy is a...

Sheep!

I am her...

baby sheep! (The book says, "lamb," but that's ok.)

Moo! I live in a grassy field. Who is my mommy? My mommy is a...

Cow!

I am her...

um...cowboy?

My Bucket Runneth Over

Speaking of running over, yesterday I was out shopping with Loic & Alastair in tow and it got to be lunchtime, so we stopped for a bite to eat. Loic, who has been doing unbelievably well with his independent toileting needs since deciding he was done with diapers a few weeks back, says rather urgently, "I need to go to the bathroom!" So we quickly run to the back of the restaurant into the bathroom and as he's whipping down his pants he said, "Uh oh, I got some pee on my pants!" He was pretty concerned and as I glanced down I said, "Well, how much pee?" He said, "About 2 pounds." I tried not to chuckle, seeing how upset he was, and said, "Oh, that's ok. That's not much," to which he replied, "Then it's FOUR pounds!"

But that has nothing to do with the "bucket" I referred to in the title of this post. THAT bucket is shown to the left.

Usually I like to write about things that make me laugh, and this really didn't (ok, maybe it did just a little), but I wanted to preserve it here. How sweet is this? Apparently it was "Appreciation Day" at school, and the assignment was to fill someone's bucket with words telling them what you appreciate about them. Bill & I were both touched that he made a bucket for the two of us. To think that someone not only likes my cooking, but thinks it's "the best" is really something. Gives me the confidence I need heading into creating Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. I only hope I have a little more to offer than just my culinary skills. Yikes, I can see my headstone now...

Anyway, this (and every) Thanksgiving my bucket runneth over. I have much to be thankful for, and think we should all start celebrating "Appreciation Day" every day. If you like someone's cooking, tell them. Thanks for the reminder, my Loveabal Laurence.

Overheard from the Bathroom Stall

Before I had kids I used to giggle uncontrollably at the conversations I'd often hear in the public bathroom stalls next to me -- you know the ones between a parent and a newly potty training or trained child. Then, about 3 years ago, it was my turn with Laurence. Suddenly those conversations were no longer funny. Strangers now giggled at us. I was downright humiliated. But then along came Loic. I'm sure partly because he's my second child, perhaps second BOY, and even more so because he's, well, LOIC, but these conversations no longer phase me. They make me laugh. Besides, they give me material for this here blog. Loic being potty trained is very recent news in our house, and here's a couple of snippets of what's gone down in some local and not-so-local public stalls lately...

Loic: Is this the girl bathroom or the boy bathroom?

Me: It's the girl bathroom -- you're not ready to go in the boy bathroom by yourself.

Loic: Why?

Me: Because you still need some help. (Somewhat under my breath...shuddering) And I don't want you to touch....things.

Loic: Oh yeah...help me unbutton my pants, Mommo, I have to PEEEEEE!

Me: Right, well that's why we're here.

Loic: Hey, I hear someone coming! It must be a girl. She has to pee, too! Or maybe poop. Do you think she has to pee or poop?

Me: I don't know. It's none of my busin----DON'T TOUCH the toilet!

Loic: Why?

Me: Because it has germs. Try to touch as little as possible.

Loic: OK. Can I touch the wall?

Me: No.

Loic: Can I touch the floor?

Me: No.

Loic: Can I touch the door?

Me: No.

Loic: Can I touch that girl peeing?

Me: NO!

Loic: I pooped. (Singing now) Now you have to WIPE meeeee! Wait, Mommo! Don't touch the toilet paper! It has germs.

And so on. No, I don't make this stuff up. Those of you with kids can relate. Did you notice my name? Mommo. That's new news, too. I think it has a nice ring to it.

Recent Revelations

Each of the three boys have made some interesting and potentially life-altering discoveries about their respective worlds over the past week....

Alastair (if he could talk): Army crawling is the way to get from here to there. The faster I go, the more ground I can cover & the more stuff I can get into. Also, mom's a great cook. I love her mac 'n cheese, lasagna, Chicken a la King, and Cheesy Pasta with Tomato & Artichoke.

Laurence (after spending several minutes studying a map of the world in a library book): Mom, I've noticed that the continents are a lot like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I think they all used to be hooked together, but then they broke apart. (Wow...)

Loic (this morning at breakfast): Butter is good. I like it on toast with cinnamon. And I like it on pasta with cheese. And I like it on bagels...but cream cheese is the butter I like the BEST!

Trail Diary

I woke up this morning knowing it was just right for a you-ride, I'll-walk jaunt with the two younger boys. We had nothing on our agenda except grocery shopping, so I piled Loic's trike and Alastair's stroller in the back of the Acadia and we made our way to the East River Trail. During the short drive I could almost feel the crisp air, slight breeze, and warm sun on my back; longed for the smell of fall in the air, the sound of leaves crunching under our feet & wheels...along with a little exercise and time alone with my thoughts. We get to the trail, get everything & everyone unloaded, and set out. The air was crisp, there was a slight breeze, the sun felt warm on my back; I breathed in the smell of fall in the air, gazed at the leaves that are well on their way to peak color, and spent the next hour alone with....LOIC'S thoughts. HO-LEE-COW can that boy talk. I remember Laurence at this age and thinking 3 was utterly exhausting. Loic has been 3 for just a little over two months and has put Laurence to shame. Here's just a small sample of our conversation along the trail...

(Just as we approach the main path from the trailhead, it begins.)

Loic: Is this the path? Where I can ride my bike?

Me: Yes.

Loic: Why is this the path?

Me: Because this is where people walk and ride their bikes.

Loic: Is that a bridge?

Me: Yes.

Loic: Are we going under that bridge?

Me: Yes.

Loic: Does the path go under the bridge?

Me: Yes.

Loic: Why does the path go under the bridge?

(I pretend not to hear him...it works.)

Loic: What if I go in the lake mom? I don't want to go in the lake.

Me: It's a river, and you won't go in it. Just stay on the path.

Loic: Why should I stay on the path?

Me: So you don't go in the lake...I mean river.

Loic: Oh. You said lake, Mom!

(We are all of 25 yards into our walk by now.)

Loic: Hey, now we're going into the woods! Why are the woods like a jungle?

Me: Well, it's not really a jungle. I'd call it the woods. Jungle's are a lot more--

Loic: YES it IS a jungle!

(Why do I even bother?)

Loic: Are there animals in the woods?

Me: Yes, some small animals & lots of birds.

Loic: I don't see any animals.

Me: Maybe if we're really quiet, we won't scare them and you can see some!

(It didn't work.)

Loic: What's that quacking?

Me: Oh! There are some ducks swimming in the river. See?

Loic: Yes! Why are they ALL quacking?

Me: That's how ducks talk to each other.

Loic: Why are they ducks?

(Seriously, kid?)

Loic: Hey, why is that boy on a bike?

(I guess we're done with the ducks. I look and there's a boy on a bike with his mom.)

Me: For the same reason you are. It's fun & good exercise.

Loic: I like taking exercise. Does that boy like taking exercise?

Me: Yes, I suppose he does.

Loic: Who's that man?

(Trying not to think about the mystery I'm reading about this serial killer who watches his prey from the woods, I glance away from the boy and breathe a sigh of relief when I see a man on a tractor as we're approaching a clearing.)

Me: I don't know him, but it looks like he's working here.

Loic: Why's he working here?

Me: He's spraying something...probably to keep bugs away.

(The man stops because he's gotten a phone call.)

Loic: Why did he stop?

Me: He's on the phone.

Loic: With who?

Me: I don't know, maybe someone from work.

Loic: Where does he work?

(Now a man approaches on a bike.)

Me: OK, here's comes a person on a bike, move to the right to let him by.

Loic (as the man passes): But that's a MAN. You said person.

Me: Men are people.

Loic: Are ladies people? And babies? And moms & dads?

Me: Yes, we are all people.

Loic: But not animals. Why do animals live in the woods?

Me: Because they don't build the kind of houses we do. They have houses made of sticks & leaves & grass, some even live in trees.

Loic: Oh, they live in the woods. They don't live in the zoo, like we do.

(What? I just let that one slide.)

(We walked for almost an hour and there was never a lull in the conversation. NEVER. We walked on the path, came to a park, made a loop around the park and headed back the way we came. As we approached the little bridge just before the trailhead I had a moment of déjà vu...)

Loic: Is that a bridge?

Me: Yes.

Loic: Are we going under that bridge?

Me: Yes.

Loic: Does the path go under the bridge?

Me: Yes.

Loic: Why does the path go under the bridge?

Would someone PLEASE tell this kid why the path goes under the bridge?!?

Patent Pending

The soon-to-be-first-grader and I have had some very interesting conversations lately. From tidal waves (and his concern over whether one will ever engulf our friends' cottage on Shawano Lake, about 50 miles northwest of Green Bay) to nightmares about the Gum Monster (?), he has definitely kept me on my toes today.

Just over dinner he asked me why daddies can't feed their babies milk. Before I could respond, he said, "Oh wait! They can. They can give them bottles. With formula. Or......." He paused briefly. "I was going to say they could put the mommy's milk in a bottle, but I don't know HOW they would do that." Seemed like a great time to bring up his visit to his Great Uncle Tom's farm this summer, so I did. That was all he needed and he proceeded to tell me how Uncle Tom milks his cows, right down to the "vitamin" he gives each one to let the cow's brain know it's time to make the milk come out. "Do mommies get that, too?" he wanted to know. "Maybe some mommies..." I said. Satisfied with figuring out the milking process (both bovine & human), he went on to tell Loic, "Babies drink milk when they're born. My whole family was born. Alastair was born. You were born. Mom was born. And Dad was born." I said, "What about you, Laurence? Weren't you born?" "Nope," he answered. "I was INVENTED!" Sometimes I wonder...

Goin' Green...or Not

I can't say we're an incredibly environmentally conscious family, but we try to do our best. OK, so maybe our "best" simply means we recycle, but at least it's something, right? (Oh, and we also have some of those fancy light bulbs, too.) Anyway, watching as my kids have caught on to the recycling craze is kind of neat -- I can't even remember when recycling really took off, but as a kid, I certainly never thought twice before throwing something in the garbage can. It makes me feel good that the boys can identify, for the most part, what gets recycled and what doesn't. And I think they even know what recycling means (sort of). We are well on our way to raising good little citizens.

Or so I thought...

The other day we were walking at the park and Loic finished a bottle of water (oops -- bottled water. Certainly NOT environmentally friendly.) He dropped the bottle and kept walking. I asked, "Did you just drop that bottle on the ground?" "Yesss!" he replied enthusiastically. "Why would you do that? You should put it in the trash ca...er, recycling," I said. Then he replies, singing a little song, "Nope, I can throw it on the ground, because the world is one biiiiiig trash cannnnn!" So much for my eco-friendly little guy. I have no idea where he came up with that, but it seems we've got a ways to go!