Last summer the kids went to vacation bible school. When I’d pick them up each day, Little Man would tell me about the lesson for the day, while Baby Girl would mostly focus on the fact that they had snacks. (This is still what she mentions first when picking her up at preschool — snacks are important.) One day Little Man told me that the lesson covered The Ten Commandments. I asked if he could name them all, and while he remembered a few, a couple were probably not quite chisel-on-a-stone-tablet worthy (and a couple others should probably be chiseled on a tablet and dropped on some people’s heads).
Which non-biblical commandment is your favorite? Mine would have to be #9.
Remember Rumpelstiltskin? It’s one of the more screwed up stories I remember reading as a kid. A dad says his daughter can spin straw into gold, the king says she has to do the gold spinning or he’ll kill her, and a little creepy, unnamed dude makes the magic happen by taking something that belongs to the girl as payment. (Because obviously someone who can spin straw into gold needs a ring or necklace.) And then the little creepy, unnamed dude wants the girl’s firstborn to work his magic one last time, which she agrees to. She then marries the king who wanted to kill her, gets pregnant, and the little dude wants her to uphold her promise. Naturally she doesn’t want to and has to guess the dude’s name to keep the baby.
Spoiler alert: the name is Rumpelstiltskin.
Okay, so I probably didn’t need to summarize that story since everyone likely knows it, but I do like to emphasize the screwedupness of some of the stuff we read as kids, so there’s that.
Now for the relevant stuff.
If Baby Girl became a creepy little dude who went around doing favors and taking firstborn babies, victimized miller’s daughters would have a hard time guessing the name she calls herself, too. She has a a bunch of nicknames she’ll use, and rarely will she use her real name when asked. At first it was cute — well, mostly it still is — but I’ve been pushing her to say her real name, just in case she gets separated from us. So far that isn’t working out too well.
Here’s how her name has progressed since she started talking:
See? The miller’s daughter would be screwed.
Mostly Baby Girl will use parts of that mouthful, but occasionally she’ll go with the unabridged version. I imagine that when she learns to write her name in a couple of years, she’ll shorted that up a bit to either her real name (which isn’t Ona, in case you were wondering), or maybe SBOKKSP. Or, maybe I’ll just teach her to write “Batman” and have a laugh at her teacher’s reaction.
Both of my kids have goals. Ever since Little Man was a toddler, he’s often talked about the things he’s wanted to do. Becoming a scientist and curing cancer, creating a Death Spray, and holding a human heart are a few of the things on his list. Baby Girl hasn’t been quite as verbal about her goals as Little Man, for obvious reasons, but she has expressed that she wants to be a doctor and go to the gas station for all the snacks (not necessarily in that order). That’s a little less exciting (and devious) than creating a Death Spray, but the girl’s got goals all the same.
There are two things my family loves: Star Wars and superheroes. You’d be hard-pressed to go in any room in our house and not find something related to one of those two subjects. (And on the off-chance that there wasn’t a toy or comic book or whatever lying around, then you’d most certainly see something related to Lord of the Rings, so there’s that. Dork Central over here.) There are often discussions about the better superhero, villain, or Star Wars episode. And, if, god forbid, you confuse Star Wars with Stars Trek or mix up your comic book worlds — suggest that Iron Man is a Justice League member, for example — then prepare to be dead to us all.
Okay, maybe that last line is an exaggeration. But there will be judgment and appalled looks. We try to keep the looks concealed, but if you call us “Trekkies” while we’re talking about how awesome the latest Star Wars movie is, then all bets are off.
Little Man still sings my praises for being a cool mom. I’ve yet to grow up and act like a typical 30-ish mom — and probably won’t — so we have a lot of shared interests. Namely the stuff listed above, but we also share the same dry sense of humor, plus a love of The Office and old school video games. This stuff makes me the-bomb-dot-com (and that comment definitely proves the whole “dorky” thing isn’t all talk). Anyway, while singing my praises one day recently, he paid me this little compliment:
I can’t remember what I said to warrant that comment, but I can only imagine that it was equal parts amazeballs and sinister. (As sinister as a 33-year-old stay-at-home-mom can get, anyway.) At any rate, I know it was a compliment and that my heart went Grinch-mode and grew three sizes.
That mash-up would look slightly terrifying. (+1 to Baby Girl for knowing that this was supposed to be Mommy Joker/Wonder Woman when she saw this.) For the record, I actually have dressed up as Wonder Woman and the Joker for Halloween — just not at the same time. A few years ago I went as the Joker and my husband went as Catwoman (not the Halle Berry Catwoman, though). We also did the superhero thing as a family this past Halloween:
Despite making a list with topics to write about for almost every day of this challenge, I’ve only used 3 of the 8 topic ideas I’d planned. For whatever reason, the original idea isn’t going to work out, so I’m left scrambling at the last second trying to find a new topic. Clearly I should have just skipped planning altogether and winged it.
Since the “I” for today isn’t going to work (I accidentally used it for part of another post), I asked Little Man for suggestions. He considered it for a moment and suggested “illness.” Since one of us has had a virus or some other illness for the better part of the last four months, it’s no surprise that particular “I” word was at the forefront of his mind.
“Yeah, girl,” Little Man said, “You know how we’ve been getting sick all the time. Ooooh, you could draw how we get sick on purpose, too, that way we can get out of school.”
“You each got the flu twice since the beginning of the New Year to get out of school? Plus strep?” I asked. And then there were other various stomach bugs and colds. That would be pretty hardcore.
Little Man looked rather sheepish. “Well, not exactly like that. But we were happy to get sick because we did get out of school.”
“Hmm. So there was a silver lining with getting the flu.”
Illness it is, then.
Rather than give you a visual of the behind-the-scenes flu puking action (maybe I’ll save that for another day), I’ll write a little bit about how Baby Girl keeps claiming to be sick. Most of the time she looks for excuses to go to the doctor, because she loves the doctor — she even walks around with a stethoscope half the time. (Last week she said she needed to go to the hospital over a scratch.) Sometimes, though, her illnesses appear when she wants something.
Like on Sunday:
I was cracking up over her sudden illness that could only be cured by a popsicle, but things turned south after I said she was full of crap. (Oops.)
Like a lot of kids, Little Man has a love-hate relationship with school. He usually enjoys going — and often comes home excited about the things he got to do — but is less than thrilled with other parts. Namely having to get up in the mornings, staying for seven hours, and going for five days per week. (Half days two or three days per week is what he thinks would be suitable.) Oh, and the homework — he hates that, too. He considers it a form of medieval torture, and in kindergarten — when he’d come home with an hour’s worth of homework that required cutting, pasting, and coloring — I didn’t disagree.
During a complaint session back in first grade, Little Man gave us some interesting reasons for why he shouldn’t have to do the school thing.
You can’t say that the kid doesn’t have his priorities in order — Hulk DNA should definitely trump working on handwriting.
What are some excuses your kids (or you as a kid) came up with to try to get out of school?
After soccer practice one night this week, I was helping Little Man get dried off after his shower when he commented that his belly was sore. He had mentioned running a lot at practice, so I said he’d probably overworked his abdominal muscles. I showed him where they are and he rubbed over them and was apparently impressed by what he felt, as he made this comment:
That’s right. The slender nine-year-old who hasn’t gained a pound all year has abs like iron. Boom.
Some toddler girls love Princess Sophia. Others love Doc McStuffins. Others — namely the ones whose moms have to Google characters that toddler girls are into — love Batman. And Superman. And all things Star Wars. (Sigh, and as of the last couple months or so, Peppa Pig.) But mainly Batman.
So, yeah, Baby Girl loves her some Dark Knight. Her love is so intense that some might even say that Baby Girl has a minor obsession with him. Others might say that there’d be a restraining order against her if Batman actually existed.
I can’t remember exactly when the lovefest started, but it was sometime between her first and second birthday. Her brother has a couple of Batman play sets, and she loves playing with the toys alongside Little Man. Baby Girl went through a phase where she refused to wear anything but her Batman t-shirts, wanted to wear the Batman pajamas every night, and had to carry her Batman stuffie everywhere. She had a Batman themed party for her birthday last year, too.
With the theme for this post in mind, I was scrolling through old Facebook and blog posts looking for some material for today and came across a few cute things.
The first one shows her getting her teeth brushed while wearing a Batman mask. She hates getting her teeth brushed. It’s one of those things that always ends up in a meltdown of epic proportions, no matter what we do. But then one night we put a Batman mask on her to so we could show her that superheroes brush their teeth, too.
It worked. For one night, we had an adorable Batman toddler getting her teeth brushed in our bathroom. For one night, because I don’t know where that particular mask is anymore.
The second shows Baby Girl not showing me any love on my birthday. Sigh. I know that Batman’s fond of making everything about him, but on my birthday, too? C’mon, man.
The third one shows how Baby Girl introduced herself a few times. Loads of cuteness if you witness it in person.
The fourth doodle shows that Baby Girl has some real game when it comes to getting sweets from her daddy. Rather than ask for an ice cream cone herself (and likely be denied), she asked for one for Batman. And she got it. She claimed that they were sharing it, but I do have my doubts.
Like most other kids, my two love electronics — tablets, phones, whatever they can get their grimy little hands on (and believe me, after they get their hands on said devices, there will be no doubt that “grimy” is not an exaggeration). I know some people frown and say “electronics for kids are the devil” while others have the latest and greatest device waiting on the kid before he passes through the birth canal. Whatever. I’m not going there (nor should y’all in my comments). Where I will go, however, is to the photo album on my iPhone.
Occasionally I’ll let Baby Girl hold my phone in the car, and her favorite thing to do with it is take pictures. (Her second favorite thing to do with it is turn on Itsy Bitsy Spider or an equally annoying song.) I absolutely love looking at the pictures she’s taken after I pry my phone from her peanut butter and jelly encrusted fingers. Some are random pictures of stuff in the car, but most of them are of herself.
Here is a sampling of what I get:
My favorites are the ones like the bottom middle, where happiness just radiates from her. (And obviously the doodle doesn’t do her justice, but you get the idea.) I once posted a picture to one of my personal social media pages where I said something to the effect of, “I hope she always looks at herself like this.” Wouldn’t that be amazing?
So, should I get the kid a selfie stick for Christmas? 😉
One thing I decided to do with Baby Girl was to teach her the proper terms for her anatomy when she asked about it. No more wee-wees, pee-pees, hoo-has, or junk. As much as I hate using the proper terms (va-jay-jay is much more fun to say), the experts suggest using the right words, so that’s what I’m doing.
At the time this Things Kids Say occurred, Baby Girl had recently turned two, and her vocabulary had exploded, as typically happens with kids that age. She wanted to know the name for everything, over and over and over. (Several months later and that hasn’t really changed.) And at one point, she took further interest in herself.
“Mommy, what’s dat?” Baby Girl asked during a bath one night, when she realized there was a body part we hadn’t gone over. She was pointing down below. It was time to follow through on the anatomy game plan.
“That’s your vulva,” I told her after a brief hesitation. I felt proud — I might never use anything other than hoo-ha with my doctor, but at least I taught my toddler the proper term.
“Bulba?” she asked.
“Right, vulva,” I said.
At that, she stood up and bent over to get a better look and was apparently impressed with what she saw.
I thought I was going to crack a rib because I laughed so hard.
And this wasn’t the only “chat.” My husband came in during one bath, caught a “conversation,” and walked out after picking up his jaw off the ground.
My post about cleaning carseats was published on Scary Mommy today. This post is a bit longer than the original, and you can check it out here if you’d like.