Baby Girl Says…

When I first started this blog, I didn’t have a lot of Baby Girl material to use. She was talking some, but not a lot, so most of my stories were about her brother. These days, however, that child doesn’t stop talking, and much of she says is funny as hell. The older one is shifting away from saying lots of cutesy things and does a crap ton of dabbing, so I don’t have as much to go with from him. (I am so sick of dabbing, by the way.)

See? That does not make for great blog fodder.

Thank goodness for the girl. Baby Girl has said enough cutesy things in the past week that deserve her own post, so here we go.

Doctor Time

The girl had strep throat a few weeks ago. Since she downright refuses to take medicine — and I don’t mean she gets fussy about it, but that she will kick, scream, spit it out, and reject any food/drink that we’ve mixed it in — the doctor suggested giving her a shot. I didn’t think this would be a problem. Most kids hate shots, of course, but she understands that they will only hurt for a second and that they can help you feel better or prevent the flu and other illnesses. She told me she went to school encouraging her friends to get flu shots after she got hers in October. So, yeah, I didn’t think it would be a big deal.

It was, of course.

The doctor, nurse, and I had to hold her down while the nurse administered the shot. (Never underestimate the strength of a 30-pound 4-year-old.) After it was all over, she told me she wasn’t going downstairs (where the pediatric office is) and was only going upstairs (the family practice we used to go to) from then on. Poor kid. (And she did feel better within a couple of days.)

Last week, we had to go back to the pediatrician. That child told the receptionist, the assistant, and the doctor no less than 30 times that SHE WAS NOT GETTING A SHOT.

When the assistant asked if she had any allergies while checking her in, Baby Girl spoke up and said something that had us all laughing.

Well played, Baby Girl, well played.

The Spider Closet

Remember how Baby Girl drew a picture of me dead in a grave last week? Well, she’s still going through her creepy phase. A few days after that, she was displeased with Little Man over something (who knows what it was, as she is often displeased with him), when she made the following threat:

Um, what?

When we asked her to clarify what a spider closet was, she looked at us like we were idiots and told us that it was a closet full of spiders. I let her preschool teacher know the next day that we do not, in fact, have a closet with spiders, in case it came up.

Go Tell It…Where?

For the preschool program this year, Baby Girl has to sing “Go Tell it on the Mountain.” Baby Girl and preschool programs do not go well together. (Not that you can expect much from preschool age kids, but especially not with her.) The first year, she was too preoccupied with terrorizing the children near her to do much in the way of singing. Last year, she didn’t participate much (and had to visit the preschool director for her refusal to participate and distracting others during practice). This year…we’ll see, but so far it’s not looking good, since she’s already changing up the lyrics to the song.

At least she isn’t singing, “Joy to the world, the teacher’s dead, we barbecued her head!” right?

Pepper Spray Them Bitches

Okay, she didn’t say the last word, but I sure thought it.

Earlier this week, she noticed that I carry pepper spray (it’s out of her reach, of course, but I was showing her something and she saw it) and asked what it was for. I explained that it was to help protect us in case of danger and also explained how painful it would be and to never, ever touch it OR ELSE.

Sometime later, we were driving down the road when a car zoomed past us. It was a 45 mph zone and he was easily going 65. I made a comment about the guy thinking he was on a speedway and how he was driving dangerously. Baby Girl had a solution for this problem.

Nah, girl, if I get road rage at someone and feel like I need to get out of my car and hurt them, I won’t be using pepper spray. I’ll just throw glitter on them and really teach them a lesson.

No More Cleaning

What is it with kids and cleaning up stuff? No, cleaning isn’t fun, but come on — it doesn’t take that much effort to pick up after yourself. It certainly doesn’t require so much effort that you should act like your world has come to an end.

A few days ago, I told the girl that we needed to clean up the house. She wasn’t happy about this, of course.

You have the energy to take out your toys and pay games with them, but not the energy to put them away? Something doesn’t make sense there.

Wake Up, Daddy

My husband told me this one. He lied down with Baby Girl to help her go to sleep a couple of days ago and dozed off himself. He said that she woke him up with a complaint.

Preach, girl.

At this rate, I may be able to do a sequel for “Don’t Lick That!” before the end of the year.

What’s the funniest thing you’ve heard a kid say lately?


Time to plug the book!

Rachel at Pretty In Baby Food had some lovely things to say about “Don’t Lick That!” Check out the review on her blog, plus enter the giveaway on her site to win a copy of the book. If you already purchased the book, enter anyway — if you win, you can gift the code to a friend that you think would enjoy the book!

“Don’t Lick That!” is available for purchase as an eBook on Amazon and as a paperback through Amazon or Barnes and Noble. (Amazon has free shipping for Prime users, but right now things are glitchy, saying shipping will take a while, so keep an eye out for that. This isn’t an issue with B&N.) If you have a Kindle Unlimited subscription, you can read the book for free. If you purchase the book and enjoy it, please consider leaving feedback on Amazon, B&N, or Goodreads.

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#AtoZChallenge: ‘T’ is for The Bird

My kids are funny. They’re also infuriating, disobedient, and conniving at times, but mostly they’re funny. This has been one of the most difficult aspects of parenting for my husband and me — keeping a straight face when they say or do something that’s funny, but inappropriate. We can handle just about anything else that gets thrown at us except for acting serious when we need to.

Little Man knows a few bad words. Between living with me for 10 years and watching various superhero movies, this was inevitable. Whatever. As long as he doesn’t repeat them, I don’t care. He knows that those words are inappropriate for him to say at his age, and he usually does good with that. (There was the time he stepped in mud in front of two preachers when he was in kindergarten. He yelled out “dammit!” much to the amusement of us all.)

He once told me about an opportunity he had at school to educate some children on the playground in second grade. Apparently a few other boys were talking about the bad words they know. Little Man told me that “damn” and “hell” were mentioned.

Good boy. I appreciated him not attempting to enhance their vocabularies for a change.

As recently as this past week, LM told me that some of those same boys have been dropping the f-word at recess as long as they’re out of earshot of the teachers, so their knowledge has expanded a bit over the past two years. The kiddo also told me about learning about flipping the bird, except for what the kids at school think it means is very different from what it actually means.

So for those fourth graders, flipping someone off is basically like calling them a heathen. I did my parental duty and told LM that wasn’t what it meant and educated him. Hey, him knowing is better than thinking the meaning isn’t that bad and getting in trouble for flipping someone off like I did when I was in third grade. I thought it meant “You’re stupid” and got in quite a bit of trouble for flipping off my sister. I passed on teaching him the double bird.

Even though the boy is good about not using adult words, he has asked to use them on occasion. One such time a couple of years ago when he really enjoyed the meatloaf I made for supper.

“Just say whatever it is you wanted to say without cursing, okay?” I told him. (Do as I say, not as I do.)

Point made.

At least he didn’t hit me and tell me that my meatloaf was “slap your mama good” like he did over something else I made.

Around the same time, we had this gem of a conversation:

I can only imagine how many times he heard a strange noise and glanced out the classroom window, hoping to see aliens descending upon the school so that he would have an opportunity to use his word.

And wow! We’re down into the final week of the A to Z Challenge!

Thanks for joining me for the April A to Z Challenge! If you’re participating, please leave a link in the comments section so I can check out your post.

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#AtoZChallenge: J is for Joker

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:

What nerdy interests do you guys have?

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#AtoZChallenge: I is for Illness

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.”

Uh, what?

“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.)

Thought bubble not shown: “Out of all of the four-letter words I’ve said, ‘crap’ is the one you’re offended by?”

Yeah, she got the popsicle.

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#AtoZChallenge: H is for Hulk DNA

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?

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#ThingsKidsSay: Ruining Reputations

Over the past year or so, I’ve noticed Little Man making the transition from calling me “Mommy” to calling me “Mom.” At first he started calling me “Mom” in front of other kids and called me “Mommy” in private, but now it’s mostly “Mom,” unless he wants something. He’s nine now, so it’s about that time, I suppose.

Yesterday I showed Little Man a draft of a doodle post that I’m working on. It shows him doing something when he was younger, and in the picture, it shows him addressing me as “Mommy,” since that is what he called me then. Accuracy and all. This, I’ve found out, is problematic for me tween-to-be.

Those hobbit-sized feet are also accurate.

That’s me — the ruiner of reputations. Maybe that will be printed on my gravestone. I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to refer to him as “Little Man” before I’m accused of ruining his street creed.

What have your kids said to make you chuckle lately?

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#ThingsToddlersSay: Feel Better

Kids can be hilarious at times — sometimes it’s intentional, and sometimes it’s not. And sometimes they can do things so sweet that you wonder how you managed to put something so kindhearted into the world. (And, to be fair, you also sometimes wonder how you managed to put little heathens in the world.)

Last Sunday, I wasn’t feeling great — I wasn’t sick, but had some cramping stuff going on and needed to lie down and use the heating pad. Unfortunately, Baby Girl is not a fan of me lying down, ever.

“Mommy, you not go to sleep! You get up and play with me!” the two-year-old tyrant demanded.

When I explained to her that I wasn’t feeling well and needed to lie down and suggested we read, she informed me in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t sick. “Mommy, you not sick. You don’t need the medicine. Please, get up! We go play Peppa and Batman and cook…”

She wasn’t short for ideas of things to do that didn’t include me lying on the heating pad. I thought I had convinced her to go play with her brother or her dad for a bit when she disappeared. A few minutes later, though, she was back carrying a little Halloween bucket that she had gotten from McDonald’s. The doodle below shows the sweet moment that followed.

Gah. My heart immediately melted. I asked my husband if he had suggested doing something to make me feel better, but this one was all on her own. It didn’t matter a bit that it was someone’s leftover bottle of water from the table and stale pretzels and popcorns leftover from a snack — I ate and drank every bit of it. And, yes, I eventually moved to the floor to play (thankfully that heating pad has a heck of a long cord).

What’s something your child has done that made your heart melt?

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