Sense & Sensibility

Khubz at preschool about 11:15: Where's my Mommy?

pickup is at 11:30 but this is her daily Q at 11:15.

Miss Wendy: Well, she's not here yet but I"m sure she is on her way.

Khubz: Oh. Well, I will not, not cry because I am very sensible and a big girl and so I will notnot cry.

As Miss Wendy was relaying this conversation to me at pickup and laughing Khubz comes over to her with a hug and says, "thank you for a fabulous day!" and Miss Wendy says "Oh thank you for a fabulous day!"

Miss Wendy begins to praise my child and her great vocabulary.
Go on. No. Really, go on! I am eating this up.

So I am convinced Khubz is brilliant--her favorite word is sensible for goodness sake.

And then it's naptime.
When naptime is over she announces that she has made a great big poop in her diaper.

This is bad news. She saves her poop for the diaper. She won't poop in the potty. It is disgusting. Really. And I have a considerable poop threshold.

So I am cleaning her off and informing her how very disgusting it is and she says,
"And Sensible, Mommy!!"

Also

"That's pretty sensible" about getting a napkin for breakfast.

"That's so snazzy, mommy, I'm so snazzy." about new jammies from Tia Alex

Sometimes this blog is just post-it-notes for someone who wants to do a kiddo scrapbook one day. I do have a lot of other things to write about. It is going on the list of things to work on.

Got that lovin feeling

Thumper is feeding himself now, fist after hungry fist. Tonight? Black beans and roasted sweet potato. And applesauce. And bread. And rice. He must be going through a growth spurt because he is never done with his meal.

He gets totally excited about Khubz. When he heard her not-napping at naptime he got all excited and scrambled down to her room. They then begin to "talk" to each other through the door. And, once again, I am the only one in the house who is begging for a nap.

Later I'm giving Thumper a bath and Khubz comes in to pee! (never to pee. always to pee!!!) I'm with my baby in the tub so help yourself. My back is to Khubz and I hear her say, "Wait! Waiiit! Wait for me! I'm coming in--don't flush!" She is doing a voice over for her toilet paper. She throws the toilet paper in and then flushes saying, "whew! I made it!"

There are all of these ways that she surprises me.

Later in the night we went to the store and were putting the food away. Scully remarks, "oh, I should have gotten some fruit to take to work tomorrow." She was saying this to me. Khubz looks up from her blueberries and says, "I have an idea, Mama! Take some of mine. I will share." We didn't even think she was listening to us.

Earlier at the store she wanted to hold her blueberries. We'd even given her a choice of a clearance halloween costume (with an orange wig) or the blueberries and she wanted the blueberries. (she did come from my body, you know.) So she hands the blueberries to the woman at the checkout and then asks for them back--she wants to hold them. Of course, you all already know the punchline. We turn around and Khubz drops the blueberries. Blueberries roll everywhere at the checkout. Everywhere. Okay. What do we do when we make a mess? "Clean it up!" she says. Okay. Now picture me and Khubz chasing blueberries all over the floor at the MallWart checkout registers. And I mean chasing. People were walking by and (accidentally?) kicking them. I handed her a brush--this was a mistake. Blueberries do roll naturally and with a 3 year old batting them around. . . You get the picture. So we got them all up (impressing the cashier who I guess thought we were just going to leave them there?) and thrown away. She still had some in the container that were saved--thank god. It was actually pretty funny.

We all had a really nice day today.

dia de los muertos

Well, I am posting this too late to get in on the goods over at Crafty Chica. But every good altar deserves a post (even if only a picture post.)

October runs in the family

photographs

these are my children.

they did not hatch out of the earth

or a marriage

or a marriage bed.

they are my children.

they were created in my body
in a loving and holy way
with this woman.

I would not have these children
without her.

She is their mother.
My companion in creation.
My partner in the
everyday everything
of their lives.

& her
absence
in these
photographs
shames
me.

Code

"I want to be a clown!"

This means "I want to take my markers and color all over my body."

(I should say that we are all sick and stuck in the house together--all of us. all weekend. Since Friday, even. and so my answer is most likely to be. . .)

"Uh. . . Um. . Okay. Whatever."

"I can color my arm?"

"sure."

"I can color my face?"

"no. not your face, please."

"I can color my belly?"

"sure."

"I can color my hands?"

"sure."

"I can color my bottom?"

"No."

"My feet?"

"Absolutely."

So we add "i want to be a clown" to "i want to be a puppy." which means she wants to wear shoes on her feet and shoes on her hands and walk around like a puppy. She usually wants to be a puppy as we are trying to leave the house. Sure, it's adorable. If you don't mind adding 30 minutes on your trip from the front door to the car door. But, yes. Adorable.

And the little man? Thumper has 4 teeth. Count 'em. 4. And he is using them. Just today we have developed this routine where he bites me, I pull him off my breast and glower at him. I plop him on the ground and frown. He begins to cry. I'm the one that was bit and he's crying? So we wait a minute and then try again. Right now he's having a bottle with Scully. Bite away.