Classic quotes, Vol. 44

Here's a selection of recent quotes from my 8-year-old son D-, my 6-year-old daughter M-, and my 2-year-old son E-*:

E- (pointing to his stomach, when asked where someone else's food had disappeared to): In!

D- (apropos of nothing, laughing as we walked out of the bank): Remember "Uranus"??

M- (when asked why she was wearing two very different scarves at once, as if it's self-explanatory): Because I have two scarves I can wear...

D- (after I pointed out several hairs on the jelly toast he'd made me while I was sick): Oh, I forgot to tell you..... it fell on the floor.

E- (when told he had to wait for more crackers till we saw how his tummy felt): Don't, WIKE, tum-mee!!

---

* Still yet to claim his place on the blog banner! I am terrible.

Things my 2-year-old son has recently licked

After a bit of a lull in such explorations, my 2-year-old son E- has lately rededicated himself to the cause of more fully probing this world of ours through every sensory-input-gathering device available to him.

This noble effort often results in him putting many things in or on his mouth-parts that lesser men would likely fail to even consider attempting.

Here's a selection of some of the most noteworthy just from the past week or so:

1. The floor, many times

2. The underside of the counter where the kids eat most often*

3. The bottom of his shoe

4. The bottom of a few other people's shoes

5. The strap of his car seat**

6. The rim of a garbage can I'd just bought from a thrift shop***

7. The bristles of our small hand broom that has seen a good ten years' use, in all conditions, in several states***

8. An old plastic fork he found in our garage

I shudder to think what else he'll think of tasting without us even realizing we needed to warn him not to.

That's the advantage of being a world-changer instead of a nay-sayer, I guess. Good luck, little buddy! You are a worthy opponent.

---

* Thus making it the grossest part of the counter.

** This one, like the first one, kind of goes without saying, but it's worth including anyway just because a kid's car seat is among the more germ-infested places in the world, including the toilet (which gets washed much more frequently), especially for a family that takes as many car trips as we do...

*** These two were in the same day, only about an hour apart!

Things that amuse me, Vol. 13

Though nasty she may frequently be these days, as she adjusts to waking up early for kindergarten, my 5-year-old daughter M- apparently still manages to be amusing enough to dominate the quote lists as well as this, the latest list of Things That Have Been Amusing Me recently:

1. When trying to find the words to describe the chaos that results from trying to simultaneously treat (and bathe!) eight 2-month-old kittens for fleas in the same evening, this is what she came up with: "It's like a KITTEN NURSERY in here! ...Except a kitten nursery run by drunk people who have no idea what they're doing!" It was an inspiring vote of confidence.

2. When trying to clarify what she saw when retelling part of a Tintin cartoon she'd watched, M- asked, "Wait, do 'bombs' have little, like, tails coming out of them?"

3. Kids love to keep you guessing... as I watched my 1-year-old son E- cruising around the school one morning, eating a tiny banana for breakfast and loving the independence, I figured I'd need to be on the lookout for the moment he would be struck with the unoriginal inspiration to rub it all over the disgusting hallway floor before taking another bite.

Instead, he decided to throw me a curveball by waiting till I blinked to subtly pick up some kind of mysteriously blackened bark chip off that floor and then stick it directly INTO the banana, for absolutely no reason at all. It's not as if he could say, "Oh, my mistake-- I thought it was that OTHER kind of thing we commonly shove into our bananas!" Even after 8 years of this, I was just not prepared for that move.

Potential book titles, Vol. 3

Here are a few more titles of fiction and nonfiction books I might write, if I ever manage to finish something* that takes more than 10 minutes at a time:

Leftover Birthday Cake: Why Parents Have Been Having Children Since Ancient Times

Why Would I Even Have To Forewarn You To Not Put That In Your Mouth??

Enter Title Here: Sometimes I Put Things Off A Bit Too Long

Put That Down: When I Said I Wouldn't Tell You Again, I Meant After This Time

I'm Starting To Understand Why People Demolish And Rebuild, Waste Be Damned: A Home Remodeling Story

---

* Such as writing a decent blog post of substance.

Even a golden raisin shower is gross

The other day, while I was adjusting my 5-year-old son D-'s booster carseat, I heard an odd rattling sound. Assuming it must be filled with crayons and an assortment of small rocks that had once been in the cupholders, I began trying, not unlike a chimpanzee, to find an access point to the inside of this thing.

Only once I started shaking it upside down with the cupholders partway out did a flurry of rock-hard golden raisins of mysterious origin begin raining down across the seat and floor of the car.

I stopped shaking to gather up this first batch and hand them to D- before beginning another round. His response to all this trouble he'd caused? An excited, "Can I eat them?"

When will this stop?

Developments at our house, Vol. 12

Here are more of the latest developments around here:

1. I've discovered that no matter how tasty a mangled Fannie May Buttercream found at the bottom of a box of Christmas toys looks, it should not be eaten a month after Christmas. Hint: It's no longer at all "creamy".

2. Recently, someone arrived here at the blog via the search "top reason to wash my hands". The top reason to wash your hands? How about so I can feel confident that you're paying enough attention to the many undesirable things your hands do and touch in a given day that I don't have to start retreating entirely from handshakes like Howie Mandel. I'd look as ridiculous giving everyone a Terrorist Fist Jab as I would having my head completely shaved.*

3. I found that if you're going to walk away from your two-year-old on the toilet, for the sake of your heart's health, it's best to remember upon returning that you had given her a down payment on her chocolate chip reward.

4. After gazing upon my bare chest at the breakfast table one morning, my daughter M- pointed and asked, "What's that nipple for?" Like the rest of humanity throughout history, I had to admit that I have no idea.

---

* This is apparently the chosen method of my subconscious to let me know that I think Howie Mandel is ridiculous inside and out. Who knew? I don't even watch his show.

One-item lists, Vol. 1

We all know I like me a good list post. Because my unfinished list-post backlog is reaching critical mass, I figured we could start the year off by purging some of these in one largely child-centric meta-list:*

Child-Themed Game Shows
1. Oatmeal or Vomit?

Reasons Child Services May Pay Us A Visit
1. My 4-year-old son D- says things like, "I'm holding my lip because you punched me there" after practically leaping into the way of my unrelated hand gesture.

Life Goals Met At 15 Months (note that M- is now 2 years old)
1. Find Out What Sand Tastes Like. If pleasant, chow down! Note to self: It was extremely pleasant.

My New Favorite Sites
1. This one.

Reasons I Love Hanging Out With Kids All Day**
1. Tossing out a line like, "Not by the cereal on your chinny-chin-chin!" while wiping off a toddler's chin at breakfast will cause the whole room to lose it for a good 2 minutes.

---

* Note that publishing this post itself was delayed several weeks for reasons unknown even to me.

** Unfortunately, immersing oneself in this for too long can have a severely detrimental effect on one's ability to write blog posts that amuse adults, as well as one's ability to conduct a normal, polite conversation with other adults.

Then again, those who can't, teach, right?

The other day, someone arrived here from Greece through a Google search for "stop a child from eating off the floor," and all I can say to that is you, my friend, definitely came to the wrong place.

Sorry about that. I'll let you know if I ever become able to help you on that front.

The rules of M-, Vol. 1

Here are just five of the rules for life my 20-month-old daughter M- seems to live by:

1. If you find a little bit of something gross on the floor and you're struck with the admirable idea that you should go throw it away, you immediately get credit for that, even if you give up after one guess of which cabinet hides the garbage can and you then unceremoniously eat said bit.

2. Children must be heard and seen, at all times.

3. As long as you combine the vocabulary of a 4-year-old and the logical powers of a 5-year-old with the cuteness of a 6-week-old, people are much more willing to forgive the destructiveness of a 17-year-old.

4. Everyone must inform a high-ranking baby of every single thing they are doing, big or small.

5. Insisting that adults repeat something on demand over and over again, long after you know their response back and forth, will not only cement it in your memory, but it will push them into a hypnotic state in which it's impossible for them to resist digging out a pacifier for you.

See also: The rules of D-

A conversation with J-: The third child

Here is a revealing conversation I recently had with my wife, J-:

J- (using cartoonish parent voice): M-, did you get a treat for making pee on the toilet? Was it chocolate-covered raisins??

Me: No, just a couple chocolate chips.

J-: Then why were there chocolate-covered raisins on the kitchen floor?

Me: That was me... I had an incident.

J-: (rolls her eyes and doesn't even bother asking a follow-up question)

In my defense, she just happened to find the two I had missed picking up (and through some miracle, the kids missed eating) hiding alongside the fridge, so it's not like I just left the whole bag dumped all over the floor.

After all, they're mostly hers and I wouldn't want to call attention to how many I've eaten already.

A conversation with D-: Aged just right

Here, at long last, is another in our series of Conversations with D-, my 4-year-old son. This one took place this morning right after I sat down to think of a blog post:

D- (behind me, from across the room): Can I have this cracker over here?

Me: Oh, whoops! No, I found that under the radiator last night, and I meant to throw it away. It's good that you found it before M- did, cause she'd eat it!

D-: Can I eat it?

Me: No... it was under the radiator-- it's not good to eat anymore.

D-: Why not?

And you know, based on his standards, I guess I don't have a convincing answer to that, but I made him throw it away anyway, because I'm just an evil dictator.

Like manna from heaven

Not only do my kids get their daily inoculation from eating food that's fallen on the floor (while they still get the sniffles here and there, overall we've got their immune systems working like fine-tuned killing machines), but apparently my son has developed quite a taste for it.

I dropped a Goldfish cracker (one of our staples) on the kitchen floor this morning and immediately bent over to pick it up. I had decided to be fair to the kids by eating it myself, to help balance out the times I hand them the floor food before getting myself a new one from the bag, etc. In my defense, they are usually too quick and much closer to said floor food, so I don't have much choice but sacrifice dropped food to the band of starving orphans who swarm my kitchen, tugging on my pant legs any time I'm making food.

Anyway, unbeknownst to me, I was in a heated race for this particular prized morsel, which was apparently more desirable than the handful of Goldfish D- already held (new folk saying-- 'a fish from the floor is worth 10 in the hand'?). As I lifted it up, I heard D- exclaim, "Ahh!! I wanted to eat that one!" I just looked at him for a second, then naturally, I obliged.

Do I need to raise my standards a bit? It's not like I deliberately feed them meals off the floor. I mean, that's the baseline for bad parenting, right? Right??

Recipe for destruction

While typing up one of the blog posts this week, I was frequently leaning back in my chair to peek into the dining room where the kids were playing, all of 12 feet from me, and the following happened in the space of 2 minutes between peeks:

D- threw a giant rubber ball at M-'s Snack Trap cup full of Goldfish crackers, which jostled the lid loose. I had heard the ball throwing and scolded him, but he neglected to mention the result of said throw, which is out of character for him.

With the lid loose, M- was duty-bound to pull it the rest of the way off and silently (somehow) dump the crackers on the floor, and D- was curiosity-bound to watch without alerting me. M- proceeded to delicately stomp on each of the crackers while D- had a grand old time consistent with any unsuspicious and legal game of merriment.

And here's how aptly named our household routine is:

I leaned back over, saw the enormous mess all over the floor (luckily hardwood), and invoked M-'s full name in a stern voice. Without prompting, she immediately sat herself down (of course on some crackers that had survived the massacre up to that point), and quietly awaited my strides over to her. She greeted my arrival with as droll a recital of, "No, no, no" that a 1-year-old could possibly manage.

Employing parenting instincts so finely honed in the fire of raising a previous baby, rather than reacting to this magic word or dignifying her defiantly smug mockery, I simply said, "That's right-- 'No, no, no!' " I then lectured her as usual, finished rolling her in the cracker crumbs, and baked her for 45 minutes until golden brown.

Eeeeeeeeee!!

Building on her success in signing for "more" to get what she wants, M- has moved on into attempts at speech, in a big way. When she's concerned we're not getting her 20-time-daily-feeding message, or when she wants to celebrate that we got her message, she will smile and say "Eeeee! Eeeeeee!!" (for "eat") as she steadily approaches us or the food source:
And in case you were wondering, yes, she does quite resemble a zombie repeating a single syllable as she toddles over, rocking from side to side in that "leave me alone, I'm still learning to walk" way that 1-year-olds do.

Meanwhile, J- and I are stuck watching in horror, feeling an oppressive wave of impending doom, knowing we may be destined to live the next year either in front of a high chair, allowing a child to feed herself from the floor (because that's where all food ends up when M-'s in charge of it), or strapping a feed bag to said baby's face and hoping Child Services isn't making surprise housecalls that day. It's a tough situation to be in, but I know I'll make the right call.

I'm just not sure which call that is at the moment.

Now that's home cooking

This morning, I thought that M- had created something unholy in her diaper, as she is wont to do. It was something I hadn't smelled before, though, so I was confused, since we hadn't fed her anything unusual the previous day. And the random things she eats off the floor (we're not the best housekeepers) don't usually add up to enough to affect herrrrrrrrr... output. By the way, yes, we do try to stop her from eating off the floor. Except of course when I've put pieces of cereal on the floor in a trail leading her wherever it is I need her to go.

But I digress...

Anyway, upon further review, the smell did not seem to be emanating from the baby's direction. Rather, it seemed to be emanating from the walls, floors, appliances, and my eye sockets.

I had faint, unbidden recollections of the dog food factory we used to live near, which I do understand does not sound all that unpleasant to anyone who has never lived near a dog food factory. Just trust me on this one when I tell you I was quickly looking to find the source of the smell and smother the life out of it.

It slowly dawned on me that it really was seeping through the floor and walls, and pouring in from under the front door, as our downstairs neighbors were "cooking" again. Generally, we are treated to (literally) stomach-turning waves of powerful East Asian spices, which is at least understandable compared to this smell, though in the past the smells have been so powerful we have literally been driven out of our home for an evening or longer. In answer to the inevitable "what on Earth are they cooking?" question, we have received such items as Styrofoam coolers labeled "Frozen Whole Cooked Octopus" amongst their voluminous garbage piled on our shared porch, as well as right next to our THREE ENORMOUS GARBAGE CANS. Sorry about that... sounds like this might be a few separate posts.

Anyway, this smelled nothing like food, and I cannot imagine what it was. But the weirdest part was that this was the morning, so either it was a very elaborate breakfast/brunch (no waffles and cereal for them!), or just the awful-est phase of an even more intricate dinner, because the smell faded by mid-afternoon. The world will never know what it was, of course, because we almost never even see our neighbors, much less speak with them. On a side note, all interactions we have had with the one representative we do see have been appropriately polite and friendly thus far.

Screamingly loud, predictably off-key karaoke sessions at all hours don't count as "interactions", right?