Posts Tagged ‘conversations’

One of the little benefits of having children is that they can eventually start to do things that you don’t really want to do anymore.  When I was growing up in Vermont, I proved to be a very handy lawnmower, wood stacker and dog food pourer.  So now, my time has come.  Big Brother is finally at an age when he’s actually starting to be useful.  And, while he’s still too young to mow our lawn or stack wood, you can bet he feeds that dog.   And he loves fetching things around the house for me — a diaper for Little Brother, a pair of shoes, Dad’s dry cleaning bag and other such tasks.  I’d say, though, that I have found him to be most useful in the area of reminders.  As my Mommy brain goes a little more J-e-l-l-o each day, his five-year old brain is sharpening.  So, we often leave the house with a recited list of errands.  Or enter the grocery store with a little chant of critical items.   And, it’s very, very helpful.  He’s saved me from near disaster many times.  “Mom!  You forgot to pick up the dry cleaning!”   or  “Mom!  Did you forget the taco sauce?”

A couple nights ago, the boys and I enjoyed a sunny late afternoon playdate with my wonderful college friend J. and her three kids.   We met at her house, ran the kids around outside and then, as the sun started going down, we all headed back into town for dinner at a local pizza place and ice cream across the street.   For the most part, the kids were stellar.   All five of them well-behaved at the restaurant — eating their dinners, sitting in their chairs, having fun but not to the detriment of other diners.   We were hard to miss with our piles of children but, thankfully, (luckily) we were also the picture of two functional Mommies enjoying a meal with our kids.  Until…

Packing up to leave, throwing away various paper plates, stacking trays and returning the ketchup to the counter.  Big Brother shouts to me from across the restaurant.

Oh!  Mommy!

Shhhh.  What?

Mommy! Racing across the restaurant now, undoubtedly attracting attention of many diners.   Jumping up and down in front of me now.

Mommy! VODKA!  VODKA!  We need VODKA!

(Oh. my.  goodness.)

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“Shhhh, J.  No yelling.”

“Mommy, look!”

“Shhhh!  What?!”

“Over dare!”    (Pointing and practically leaping from his highchair)

“What?  Where?”

“Over dare!  Over dare!  Mommy, is that Santa!?”

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“Yes, W.”

“Could I be a teacher when I grow up?”

“Sure!  Course you can.  You can be whatever you want, honey.”


“Ok, then now I’ve got three choices of what to be when I grow up.”

“Well, you’ve always talked about being a pilot.   Or, now, a teacher.  What else do you think you might become?”

“A clown!”

Oh, good lord.  Here’s hoping that was his first real joke.

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An actual conversation over lunch today.



“Who’s your favorite Dragon Tales character?”

“Ummm…I think Ord.”   (first one that came to mind)

“Ohhhhh.  I know why you like you Ord so much.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yup.   You just like him because he’s so BIG.  Like you.”


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My two year old is obsessed with Jason Mraz.  I know.  Weird.  But, he totally is.  We Tivo’d “Farm Air Presents Jason Mraz” and I’m not kidding when I tell you that Little Brother wants to watch it every hour of every day.   And, while we were in Hell this week, I swear we must have watched Jason Mraz sing “I’m Yours” three hundred and ninety-seven times.  Roughly.

And, Jason Mraz is now ever present in our conversations, too.  For example:

In the car from the backseat:

“Where are we going, Mommy?”
“Just a few errands.”
“Jason Mraz’ house?”

Or, the other night when Big Brother was miserably sick and Little Brother was still blissfully healthy and we found Little Brother using Big Brother’s toothbrush:

“No, no, no!  J., where’s your toothbrush?”
“Umm.  Jason Mraz.”
“Jason Mraz has your toothbrush?!”

It could certainly be worse, I suppose.  If it were Big Brother (a victim of my Magic 106.7 tendencies), Taylor Swift might stop in for visit and then I’d get all self-conscious and have to brush my hair or something to hold Husband’s attention.

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Big Brother had his five-year old physical yesterday (broke my heart not to call it a “well-baby check-up” anymore).  45 lbs, 45 inches tall.  Peed in a cup for the very first time.  Eye check, hearing check.   Four shots plus a lance to the finger in a hemoglobin check.   Poor baby.   Took it like a champ.   Tried to be tough because his little brother was watching and he’d been promised a lollipop from the dry cleaner when we finished up.

Doctor asked him all the important safety questions.   Do you wear a bike helmut?  Always?   What do you do if a stranger offers to take you home?  Gives you candy?  What’s your address?  Phone number?

Then, these nuggets. Nuggets worth saving for my own memory.


Doctor:  Do you brush your teeth?
W:  Yes.
Doctor:  How many times a day?
W:  Well…..(looks around a little nervously).  Two.
Doctor:  Ok…
W:  (Nervously)  But, sometimes, I sneak and trick my Mom and…well….
Doctor:  It’s ok.
W:  Sometimes I do it three times.


Doctor:  Do you go to pre-school?
W:  Yes.
Doctor:  How many days a week do you go to pre-school?
W:  Well, I go every day except for the last day before the weekend.
Me: (Interjecting.  Couldn’t help myself)  So, if there are five days in the week, and you go-“
W:  No, Mom!  There are seven days in the week!”


Yip.  That’s my boy.

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Last week my boys each got a progress report from their Nursery School.  Each report was good.  Certainly nothing to worry about.  Both are performing all tasks relative to their ages.  Big Brother speaks softly but often.  Little Brother still has a little issue with Mommy-separation at drop off but then has a wonderful time about 5 seconds after I’m out the door.

A typical Mom, I, of course, felt that they should have received Above Average scores across the board but I’m their Mom so maybe I’m just a teeny tiny bit biased.  

And then we went away to CT for the long weekend.  Bernie, our six year old yellow lab, stayed at a nearby kennel.  Where he’s a bit of a regular.  It’s pretty posh as far as kennels go, though, and we’re pretty sure they like him there.   Yesterday at pick-up they handed me the usual details on his stay with them — a doggie report card, if you will.  

And, well….compare for yourselves.   Here they are.


Hmmm…perhaps we need to refocus our efforts a bit.

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