Normally, I am a great big lazy brat about comments. I love receiving them. I read them all, they make me feel warm and fuzzy (generally), and I almost never send mail back to the commenters because I have the attention span of a fruit fly UNLESS you are either rubbing my feet or feeding me something yummy.
But I am so touched that so many people took the time to respond to my last post (subtitled I Am A Big Loser But Also A Comment Whore), that I am going to attempt to answer every comment. If you don’t hear from me in the next couple of days, feel free to kick my ass.
(Also: Thank you.)
And now let’s swing over to the other side of life, for a hefty dose of What Keeps Me Going:
Last night I informed Monkey that it was time for him to sleep in underwear rather than pull-ups. He wasn’t thrilled about this idea. I gave him several pep-talks.
Me: I know you can do this! You were dry FIVE NIGHTS IN A ROW! You’re ready! You are a great big boy who’s starting kindergarten… why, you’re five and a HALF years old! You can stay dry all night, no problem! Okay? Okay!
Monkey: Well, I’ll wear the undies… but if I wet the bed, it’s YOUR FAULT!
Me: Now you’re thinking like a grown-up!
He wet the bed, and came whining down the hall around 1:00. I changed sheets, got him into dry jammies, put him back to bed.
This morning he came running into my room.
Monkey: Look, Mama! I stayed dry!!
Me: Um, yeah. Except for the part where you wet the bed in the middle of the night. Remember that?
Monkey: Oh. *sigh* Yeah.
I am such a killjoy.
* * * * *
I love children’s television. This morning, Joe and Blue were riding in the back of a minivan on some adventure or other. They danced a little (in their seatbelts) and sang “Boogie in the baaaaackseeeeeeat!”
Monkey watched this, then danced around the room singing “BOOGERS IN THE BAAAAACKSEEEEAT!” Chickadee laughed so hard, she snorted organic milk all over the coffee table. That is SO coming out of someone’s allowance, as soon as I figure out which one of them to blame.
* * * * *
At the grocery store today, Monkey opted for the Play Place while Chickadee decided she would help me shop. It was a coming of age, of sorts. I felt like a 1950s Home Ec teacher as I taught her how to select fruit (“Do you really think you can eat a nectarine that’s as big as your head? No? Me neither… let’s pick a different one”), how to compare prices and check my dorky little coupon folder for coupons, and allowed her to make several selections (corn or peas? lemonade or limeade? what flavors of yogurt?). Chickadee was basking in the glow of undivided attention and grave responsibility.
Sometimes I forget she’s a little kid…
Me: We need to go get some kale for the soup.
Chickadee: Some WHAT?
Me: Some KALE. Don’t worry, you like it. Ah, here it is. *showing her a huge bunch of kale*
Chickadee: Oh, KALE! I just LOVE kale!!
… and sometimes, SHE forgets she’s a little kid.
Me: So which jello flavors do you want?
Chickadee: Hmmm… this one! I love raspberry.
Me: Okay, good. Put that in the cart. You can pick another flavor. Or get another raspberry.
Chickadee: I don’t know. What looks good?
Me: Let’s see… how about black cherry? That sounds yummy.
Chickadee: Okay, let’s get that and YOU can eat it!
Me: Um, honey? I don’t eat jello.
Chickadee: But you SAID it sounded yummy!
Me: Yes, if I were seven years old, I think I would find that yummy.
Chickadee: *clearly disappointed* Oh. *here there’s a pause while she is lost in thought and a woman next to us tries very hard not to giggle* HEY! I’M seven years old!
* * * * *
Tonight I’d sent the kids up to get ready for bed, and for a change instead of squabbling I heard singing from above. Yes, first it was Monkey, then Chickadee joined in… and their sweet, high voices united, then diverged, then united again. Over and over.
A real Hallmark commercial for sibling unity and how adorable children are, and all that. Just so long as you were deaf.
Because it started with Monkey crooning, “I enjoy being a… prin-cess! I enjoy being a… prin-cess!” (Now, in fairness, we had heard this song on The Backyardigans this morning.) Then Chickadee joined in on the “I enjoy being a…” part, and it almost stopped being weird, but then I realized Chickadee was singing, “I enjoy being a… lar-va! I enjoy being a… lar-va!”
They sang it together until I sent them to brush their teeth.
My kids… they warm the cockles of my heart. I never knew that being the mother of a bedwetting transvestite-in-training and a kale-and-jello-loving caterpillar could be so rewarding.