Who's On First? Er, What?

Sometimes, conversing with my children is a bit like living inside of an Abbott and Costello sketch.

Particularly the 3rd born. At just over 2 years old, he's rather verbal.  Generally, he can make it known precisely what he wants, though on occasion, especially when he's exhausted, he's been known to lapse into mumbling and garbled speech.  (I've only myself to blame for the mumbles). 

The other night, we were snuggling in his bed as he settled for sleep.  I asked him if he wanted me to sing a song.  Yes, believe it or not, my kids actually dig when I sing.

He mumbled something so I asked him to repeat,

"Put some socks on."

Weird, but ok.  "Sayer, you want me to put your socks on?"

"Put some SOCKS on."

"You want me to go get your socks?"

"Mama, PUT SOME SOCKS ON."

"Uh, ok... can you wait here a second while I go get you some socks?"  The night promised to be a chilly one, so really, why not?

"NO!"

"No?"

"NO, mama!"

I was a bit baffled.  "Sayer, do you want socks or no socks?"

"Socks on!"  His face was turned into his pillow so I asked him to say it again. 

"Socks or no socks, buddy?"

"Sockson!" 

"What?"

"SONGSON!"

"What?"

"Songsong! SONGSONG!"

I had a feeling I was missing something... so I asked again,

"What?"

He turned his head to look me dead in the eye, "Sing. A. Song!"

Oh.  Um, ok.  "You want me to sing a song?"

"Yes."

What the heck, dude?  Wasn't that where we started this melee?

"Ok, um, so what do you want me to sing a song about?"  (He likes to pick his topics... most notable are trucks, trains and pickles). 

I swear the kid looked at me as if I had just forgotten my own name.  "Mama. Put socks on."

I kid you not. 

Then, it hit me.

"Sayer, do you want me to sing a song about putting your socks on?"

He beamed, "YES!"

And then he rolled over, sighed and started to close his eyes. 

And I sang a song about putting on a pair of socks.

Ah, parenthood.

Caly-Isms: Episode Eleventy Billion

I've decided that my second daughter was born to make me laugh at least twice for every time she completely exasperates me.

It's a survival method. Trust me.

Anyway, here's a few of her latest.

A couple of mornings ago, we had a firetruck visit our little house. (Long story short: malfunctioning CO detector). The firefighters were sweet enough to let the three big kids clamber around on the truck.  (They're now officially in love with fire trucks... and firefighters).

Later, Shaun mentioned that his uncle had posted a picture of Shaun and his cousin on a fire truck from when they were young. Then Shaun said, "Oh, and Michelle was in the picture too, but she's irrelevant."  Caly, who was snuggled up next to me and listening more than I thought she was, piped up,

"Aunt Michelle is NOT an ELEPHANT!"

Indeed she's not!

This past weekend, Lexi started golf lessons through First Tee which leaves the boys here to nap and Caly here to have one on one time with Mommy.  She was messing around with Legos and I decided to finish watching the final episode of the shall-not-be-named teen drama show that I got completely sucked into.  (I know, I KNOW).  She came over and nuzzled up during the final 3 minutes.  The only thing that was left to watch was the final gymnastics meet, full of the fun camera angles and dramatic music so when she asked if she could watch too, I agreed. 

Each time the gymnasts flipped across the screen, Caly would fling her arms and legs in the air and proclaim that her move was just like their move.  "See, Mama? See?  I have cool moves too!"

The show ended with a glowing victory for the main characters and I turned it off.  Caly proceeded to jump on top the ottoman.  I asked what she was up to and she said, "I'm gonna do my own gymnastics show!"

So I started to gather the laundry to put away.  But then I stopped when I heard her start talking.

She flung her hands in the air and said, "I just don't think I can do it! I don't know if I can be good enough!"  Then she tipped her head to what I could only assume was her imaginary coach and said, "Do you believe in me?  You do?!  Then I can do it!"  And she shoved her hands back in the air, jumped and contorted her legs in some weird shape and fell on her stomach.  Immediately, she shot up and puffed her chest out, saying, "I did my move! I knew I could do it if you believed in me!" 

Uh.

Someone isn't allowed to watch teenage dramas ever with that stellar recall.

(The imitation was uncanny).

We got home from some miscellaneous errand and after I parked on the gravel portion of our driveway, I realized that she didn't have her shoes on so I told her to wait so I could carry her over the rocks.  Except, when I placed her on the paved part, I inadvertently plopped her heel right onto a sharp rock.

Tears ensued. 

I felt horrible.  I picked her up and told her I was sorry and then I said, "Oh Caly, I'm a bad Momma!"  She stopped crying and looked up at me and said, "No you're not!!" 

That'll carry me through more than a few rough days with that. 

She's my girl.

No Matter How Much Water, Flowers Won't Grow There

My kids are fascinated by the hose.

Or obsessed.

Of course, the hose is a fun way to stay cool in the summer. But it got to a point where I would leave the room and my middle two would beeline out the front door and turn on the hose. And then I'd find them and lose my mind at having to get them completely dressed again, (because inevitably, I would have just finished getting them dressed and ready to leave the house).

So I decided to indulge them while I unloaded the car after a recent vacation. The three big kids used the hose to create some elaborate waterfall/river system up on the front deck and steps. I unloaded the insane amount of luggage that 6 people take on a road trip for 3 days and started on getting the car clean. I filled one bag with trash, and filled a laundry basket with the miscellaneous nonsense that the kids accumulate in the car with every trip.

(SIDENOTE: Do all kids insist on taking their "Oh-but-mommy-it's-my-favorite-thing-ever," item into the car only to leave it there later? And then, obviously, they absolutely have to take the next must have toy into the car the next day? And then, you end up with a veritable toy store in your back seat. Am I the only one? Really?)

Anyway, I digress. So, I had actually found the mythical carpet on one side of the car and moved to the other. The kids were happily spashing through their water trails on the steps. As I stacked and sorted books in the basket from the back of the car, I heard Caly giddily exclaim, "Sayer is watering the car!" since my kids are obsess with car washing, I figured he was spraying the outside and continued my sorting.

(When will I ever learn not to assume?)

Moments later, Lexi yelled, "Mama! Sayer is watering IN your car!" I shot upright and peered in through the open sliding door on the drivers side of my van to catch sight of my 2 year old calmly holding the water hose In through his open sliding door over the carpet in front of his seat as water poured out.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" I yelled. I didn't know what to do first. So I made motions to get Sayer while exclaiming, "No, no, NO SAYER!" Confused, he lifted the hose and started backing up. Every step he made bounced the water further into the car. Finally, my brain turned on and I shouted to Lex to run and turn the hose off while I attempted to grab the renegade hose or its wielder.

She managed to turn it off and I tried to explain to my middle two that you're NEVER allowed to put water into your car. "I was a-washin' it, mama!" my 2 year old kept joyfully exclaiming, convinced he had helped. I still don't think we're on the same page.

But you can bet that I'm going to keep the hose obsession contained to the back yard while my car is open.

(After airing out for 3 days in 90 degree heat, the car dried for the most part. But it smelled like old gym socks. So I sprinkled baking soda all over the carpet, which drew out the moisture and most of the odor, but definitely hasn't come out of the carpet completely. My poor blue van will never be the same).