TheMommyBlog

Friday, August 01, 2003

Logie: I know why we lower the toilet lid.
Dad:why?
Logie:So bugs don’t fly in the toilet. We don’t want bugs in the toilet, right?

Out of nowhere while riding in the car, Logie says: Bob and Wendy don’t live together Dad. I’m thinking Bob and Wendy, Bob and Wendy. Mindy has a cousin Wendy but she’s not married to a Bob. Bob who Logie? Bob the Builder Dad.

Dylan’s favorite line while eating a popcycle: Dad, can I licksuckandbite? Dylan, what? Can I lick, suck and bite. Sounds a little strange I know but it makes perfect sense coming from a three year old.

Logan wants to know - Dad, before there were knives did people use swords to cut their food?

I asked Dylan for a skittle recently and he said “no Dad, well okay, actually, no.”

Logie helping me in the yard: I’m a worker today Dad (which is in itself kinda funny because he HATES anything that has to do with chores). I need to go get dressed for it. Later, after loading his belt up with plastic work devices, he explained “Dylan doesn’t know how to work Dad so I gave him a job - he’s a scarecrow for wasps.

The question Dylan asks 42,367 times a day: Can I have gum? The noise Dylan can hear from two counties over: the click of a coke can opening. “Dad can I have a sip of coke?” I made the mistake of giving him two gummy worms instead of one which immediately became the absolute minimum he will accept when offered. He’ll play you like a piano to get two. Case in point: “Mom, give me two. Mom replies “No Dylan, you can have a red one or a green one. With red one in hand, he says “okay green. Mindy hands it over and he says “actually, (his new favorite word)I both” and starts to walk away.

Saturday, July 26, 2003

Mood:  silly
Each day, when I come home from work, Dylan asks, “Mommy, did you have fun at your car?”

Yesterday, he ran off to go to the potty (loving this, by the way). He came down the hall a few minutes later with his shorts, underwear & shirt all balled up in a turban on his head. I didn’t specifically ask, but he said:

“Look, Mommy! I’m Clothes Head.”

Monday, July 21, 2003

Mood:  accident prone
Gil and the boys are in the mountains, camping. I, ever aware of my own limitations, stayed home, sure that it would not be felicitous to spend three days in 100-degree heat and three nights with the 5 of us in a tent. The guys would be just fine, but I knew that I would crack within 36 hours.

Just to be clear, I cited Daphne’s safety as one of the reasons for staying home.

Let’s review the last 48 hours: the first day was spent sheltering from the 100-degree heat, watching TV and eating McDonald’s and Skittles. Not a properly balanced day for a toddler. That night, we went shopping for brie so I could have my cherished bread-cheese-and-chardonnay dinner. While driving the 2 miles home from the store, I got a speeding ticket. 52 in a 36 zone, in front of a school. Not a balanced day for a responsible parent.

The second day, today, Daphne fell off the rocker once (bump and scratch on her right eye) and the bed twice (lacerations to inside of bottom lip). She looks terrible. Her blankie is covered in blood (but I could not release it from her death grip to put it in the wash), as is her Oxford University t-shirt and my jammies. Luckily, the nurse said they don’t usually suture the inside of the mouth, and we can just avoid citrus for a few days.

What was that I was saying about safety?

Sunday, July 20, 2003

Mood:  incredulous
Gil got up very early today to go play golf. I explained to the kids when they woke up that it was a day for Daddy to go have fun with his friends, and that he’d be back after dinner. This did not please Logan.

“But Logan, don’t you want Daddy to have fun?”

“I want him to have fun, but who’s going to work on that silly, silly patio? Who’s going to work on the project? Somebody HAS to, before the grass dies!

Saturday, July 19, 2003

Logan had an elaborate skit to play today. He squeezed into the space by the trash can in the kitchen so that his tummy was hidden. He made absolutely sure that I wasn’t even thinking of looking at his shirt. He then started counting on his fingers.

“Grocery store…check. Home Depot…check. Hardware store…check. Another Home Depot…check.”

“Do you know why I’m doing this, Mommy?

“Not a clue, honey.”

“Look who I am!”

He pulled away from the wall to reveal his sherrif’s badge pinned to his t-shirt. The same badge Gil’s mother gave him in May when they came to stay. She deputized him to be the Chief, making sure that everything went right.