Things Could Have Turned Out Really, Really Badly

Today was an incredibly fun day. A good bloggy friend was in to visit (all the way from California!) so I showed her some of our finest attractions. First we went here:

Where I watched her do a lot of this:

(It's obvious that I was doing the same thing, of course.)

Then we went here:

And were sufficiently humbled,

right up until Micah tried to drop his drawers to go potty. THANK GOODNESS I caught him before anything happened and rushed him to a Porta Potty.

I'm grateful that she is a bloggy friend and knows all about Micah already. I'm also grateful that she has a wonderful sense of humor, and a heart as big as life itself. She loved Micah for who he is, and laughed along with me at Micah simply being Micah. Thanks, Janet. We had a wonderful time today.

So Who Is That, Exactly?

Park Ranger hat, light saber, plaid sports coat, striped swim trunks, bare feet. Great outfit. Any idea on who he's impersonating?

You Can't Choose Your Kid's Super Power

With Micah's Woody obsession, we have learned to keep a reserve stock of the toy on hand. There was that one time when he lost his best friend and the stores didn't sell them anymore. While it's hard to believe that there was ever a time that the Roundup Gang didn't grace the shelves of toy stores across the nation, I am here to declare otherwise. We lived it. Barely. It's like the Rocking Pony House's version of the Great Depression. We'll never be the same after that experience, and we now hoard Woody dolls like there will be a shortage in the near future. We ended up buying one from ebay (God bless ebay!) and have since learned that its' the go-to place to snag a Woody doll.

The really unfortunate thing about the world's largest auction house is that it's the world's largest auction house. While we can snag a good deal on most things, getting a Woody doll at a bargain basement price is not as easy as all that. That cowboy doll is one hot tamale. And on the off chance that you find one less expensive than the others, rest assured that it's the wrong kind. Everyone who's familiar with the toy knows this and avoids it. Kids are discriminating, yo.

So, after our week of "it's lost, Micah" we learned to keep a spare Woody or two on hand. There are currently 2 in my closet. Or WERE 2. I keep them in a plastic shopping bag on the top shelf in my walk-in closet. You cannot see through the bag, and it's rather hidden-ish behind clothing. ON PURPOSE. And while Micah is in my closet every now and then, his goal is to find a pair of slippers or a skirt to wear. He never pokes around, and can't even reach the top shelf.

And then one day that changed. Micah turned over a laundry basket, pushed it over to the shelves in my closet, climbed atop it, and looked inside that bag. He found the mother lode. I let him play with them and when he was at school the next day, Woody and Woody became part of the Witness Protection Program.

I put the pair of booted heroes in the chest in the living room. The chest that holds my photos and scrapbook supplies. The chest that nobody ever opens for any reason because I haven't scrapbooked in 5 years. The chest that Micah has never, ever, EVER opened.

So guess what I found him doing just a few days after the Woodys were whisked away to a new life of secrecy?

I am beginning to believe that the boy has a super power. It's like the toy is a magnet and he's inexplicably attracted to it. He can find a Woody anywhere. It's simply amazing. The catch is that it has to be a Woody that he shouldn't have, not one that he lost himself. Everyone has their kryptonite.

When It Rains... And OH, Did It Pour

Being as it's hot and humid here in the mountains, and being as we're completely unaccustomed to this kind of weather, I have been glistening profusely as of late. This excess glistening, as it were, has produced an outbreak of zits like I haven't had since high school. It's fun, let me tell you. And highly attractive.

Today I had to run into town for some all-mighty-meet-really-important-people-who-judge-you-on-your-looks meetings, which is why I had two red zit marks on my neck that aren't completely healed but aren't zitty-looking either. In fact, they look exactly like I've been bitten by a vampire, what with their placement on the side of my neck, and the fact that they're roughly 1" apart from each other. Makeup only does so much, you know?

I got out at my first stop, which would be to have lunch with my husband at work. We're romantic like that, having working lunch dates while he scans patients. But as I stepped out of the van, my flip flop broke. The little thong thing that goes between your toes? Yeh. Tore. There's no fixing that kind of thing, nor is there any walking in it without duck tape to strap the sole onto your foot. (What?!) All I can say is thank goodness that the kids don't listen when I yell my daily mantra of "take everything out of the van when you go in the house, please" because I found a pair of Luke's flip flops that Micah insisted on trying to wear the other day. I'm also grateful that they were flip flops and not any other kind of shoe because I cannot wear a 9 year old child's shoes. I can, however, fit my toes into the webbed straps and allow an inch of heel to hang off the back, slapping pavement as I walked.

I'm so classy that way.

But what else was I going to do?

And this was my first stop. I was forced to wear those flops to my appointments, and drawing attention up didn't help much either, what with the vampire attack going on. And did I mention that it rained between stops? As in heavy downpour/the streets are flooded/driving through puddles at 20MPH splashed water halfway up the van windows kind of rained. And the van was umbrella-less because the kids don't really listen when I yell daily "if you get something out, please put it away." So the hair was like a wet hamster nest, the neck was vampire bitten, the clothing drippy and now wrinkled, and my heels hanging off the back of my shoes.

I got a venti at Starbucks to make up for the horrendous, and by the time I got home the rain was gone and the sun was out again. Starbucks really is magical that way.

So, how was your day?

Saturday Shots

Frustration

Merry

Tiger

Happy

Tipped

Josh's 13th Birthday, Story 3

So we were sitting around the picnic table discussing underwear, and how we couldn't return the too-small pack that Josh got got for himself. Becky said "it's Wal-Mart, they take back anything." And while that's true, they do not put the returned underwear back on the rack. I know this because I read an article about that very thing recently. They stopped doing that after they were cited for it the second time. Or was it the third?

The kids were both amused and horrified by this revelation, so I relayed the other tidbit of information that I learned from that article. The A#1 offender in the put-it-back-on-the-rack of undergarment retuns is Victoria's Secret.

Oh yeh, you heard me right.

So as we were grossing and spazzing over this fact, and realizing that VS has very little else to sell in their store so re-hanging is actually an effort to keep their heads above water and look good in the returns department, Luke spoke up.

"So that's Victoria's secret!" And now we know.

The Best Birthday Gift EVER. Whoda Thunk?

So on Monday we were shopping and Josh said he needed new drawers. I told him to go get a pack, and then Micah had total meltdown over the fact that I put back Chicken Run and didn't let him purchase it. (Side note: who in the HECK thought Chicken Run was a good idea? I am on the farmer's side, and just want to push those hens into the pie machine.) Because Micah was having a moment, I got through check-out as quickly as I could and got the heck out of Dodge.

Since we left the store and headed to the drive-in to see Toy Story 3, it was late when we got home. The bag of goods was left in the van, which I unloaded the next day. The day that would happen to be Josh's birthday. So I figured that I'd mess with the boy and wrap that pack of underwears for one of his gifts. I'm the best mom like that.

So after dinner, when Josh morphed into a teen, I brought out the gifts. Because our kids live with Micah, not a whole lot phases them. It's a shame, really. The wrapped underwear that he chose himself in the store didn't even elicit a "geez, mom!" It was more like a "really? Is that all you've got?" look. 

But Micah took up the slack where Josh failed to be impressed. Those underwear were the bees knees as far as he was concerned. He confiscated the package and tried on a pair.  Shockingly, they kinda sorta fit. Methinks Josh got the wrong size, and I didn't think to check what with Micah having a moment in the store. And after Micah had them on I was loathe to return them.

Micah got underwear for Josh's birthday, and he is thrilled. He wore them all evening, and all the next day. And even wore them under his shorts to his speech appointment. The boy loves wearing other people's underwear. But I guess we already knew that.

The Metamorphosis

We officially have two teens in the house. That's half our crew, in the teenage years. It's also half my mind completely blown. How is it that we were just married yesterday, and now have two teenagers? How can we be that old? How does one blink result in so much growing up?

And yet, it's facts.

So we were eating dinner when Josh said, "What time is it?"

Me: It's 6:30. Why?

Josh: What time was I born?

Me: Well, 13 years ago just this very minute actually.

Josh: Hey! I just turned into a teenager!

Becky: You make that sound like you're morphing into something.

Josh: Wait, let me do that again. (Stands up and rips shirt off) I AM A TEENAGER!

Me and Sam: (insert eyeroll and chuckle)

Happy Birthday, son. We love you.

He's No Tiger, That's For Sure

Special Olympics swimming is over for the year, and golf has officially begun. Micah's first night of golfing was about 39 different kinds of awesome.

The boy hit an entire bucket of balls, some of them landing a whopping 6" in front of the tee. Daddy helped with a few, mommy helped with one, and he did the majority of them himself. His stance and swing leave a whole lot to be desired, let me tell you. He starts by clubbing the ground, then moves into his swinging. He'll swing and miss, and swing and miss, and swing and miss, and repeat. But he's nothing if not persistent. After repeated misses with swinging he'll slice and chop and swipe. Eventually he'll manage to connect and the ball will roll down off the tee.

We enjoyed every single ball that he hit. His determination was commendable.

And when he was done with his bucket of balls, he gathered up every single one out in the field, refilled the bucket, and put it away for the next person to use. The owners of the driving range were amused to no end. I'm thinking of hiring him out for the summer as a ball collector.

We are on the lookout, however, for a left handed kids club. Cheap. We were about a dozen balls into the bucket before we remembered that Micah was a leftie. The kid is truly ambidextrous and he moved back and forth between sides all evening, but when push comes to shove he prefers left over right to get the job done. Do they sell an ambidextrous club? Maybe like a swiveling head? Because they should.

Summer Vacation, Day 1

So the kids are officially out of school. Micah got out June 11, and the other boys were released on the 16th. Becky is still slogging away at homeschool, but that's the beauty of self-paced. (She said sarcastically.)

So last Thursday was our first full day of summer. The weather cooperated beautifully by blessing us with mid-60 degree temps. Mother Nature needs some serious meds to put her back on track with normal.

So here's what our day looked like.

7:00 Start the day with Micah waking the siblings and cousins staying overnight.

8:00 Putting the smackdown on kids who think that summer vacation and having friends over means they can simply forget that we have certain house rules, like obeying parents.

9:00 Baking all manner of goods for a bake sale over the weekend. It was cold outside, so it seemed like a good day to do that.

10:00 Talk to Becky's school about her computer connection that's been on the fritz. Turns out, the hard drive on her laptop is bad. We've been struggling with it all year. It's going back to the school for repairs.

11:00 Talk to tech support for Micah's Voice because it's not charging and is completely dead. It, too, needs to be sent back to the mother ship for repairs. Our boy is Voiceless, and he's not so happy about it.

12:00 Feed the troops lunch.

1:00 Can't remember what day it is and have to sit down to actually think about it. If the kids are out of school it must be Saturday, and yet it's not really. Hello, summer. My brain is already on vacation.

2:00 Make the boys settle and watch a movie in preparation for a drive-in movie. Send Micah to bed for a nap.

3:00 Micah comes down from a nap quite refreshed after changing his clothes, reading books, going potty and weighing himself. He didn't nap.

4:00 Paid the kids 5 cents for every fly they killed. I hate flies, and living at a farm means they think our house is just another barn. I am appalled at the amount of money I forked over to the kids, and even more so at the fact that you can't tell that any flies were ever killed.

5:00 Start dinner.

6:00 Realize that I should have started dinner earlier, turn it off, and run out the door to get Micah to Special Olympics golf practice that started at 6:00.

7:00 Home from golf and finish dinner. Eat.

8:00 Leave for movies. We've got an hour drive time. Hello, country living.

9:00 Movie starts. Kids enjoy.

10:30 Second feature begins. Kids are tired, but still awake.

Midnight: Pack up to head home.

1:00AM Get home, wake sleeping boys, and herd them into the house. One of them couldn't find the house in his delirium. Awesome.

And if that's the way Day 1 went, I can't decide if the rest of summer will be wonderful or otherwise. Interesting might be a good word.

Winning Tips

Hey, all you newbies to the Swagbucks world. Welcome. So how's it going? Can I tell you that I just earned my 3rd $25 gift card for Disney? Can you guess how thrilled that I am? Hint: the answer is VERY.

So how do I get these swagbucks to add up so fast? It does take some work, but I'd love to see you earn tons of FREE things, too, so I'm willing to share some tips.

The first thing you'll want to do is download the toolbar. It's a harmless little bar at the top of your screen that has a search engine built in. I use this All.The.Time. When I want to head to my favorite websites, I'll type it in the search bar. Never use the website address though, let the search engine suggest something. (For instance, if I want to find my blog here, I'd type in Rocking Pony rather than therockingpony.blogspot.com) You'll randomly be awarded 'bucks for searches. It's awesome.

Also? You'll get a whole 1 point for using the toolbar daily. Small, I know, but over the course of a month it's more like 30 points. Cha-ching!

Next, you'll want to take time to visit the Swagbucks site daily. You can take a daily poll where you'll also be awarded 1 point daily. The new Trusted Surveys gives you 1 point just for visiting it. But the surveys will award you a truckload of points if you qualify for one and have the time to complete it. And if you fill out your profile there you'll end up with close 200 points total. Sah-weet.

Special offers are a quick way to add up those 'bucks. On the front page is a scroll of offers, and frequently they have videos to watch that award you a handful of bucks just for viewing. And? Most of them are amusing. Win. On the special offers page you can score several hundred bucks for completing offers. I take advantage of offers that I'm interested in and disregard the others. I've had FREE photos printed just for creating an account with photo processing centers. AND gotten awarded swagbucks for doing it. It's a win-win.

Codes are another way to get some points to add up. Check the blog, the toolbar, the Swagbucks Facebook page, or the swidget on my blog to see where a code is located. They're fun to find, and really help the swag account to add up.

Good luck! I hope this is a winning week for you! And if you're not a Swaggernaut yet, feel free to get your own account to get FREE things here.

Saturday Shots

Slip N Slide Spray

Rockin' the Pony

Naptime

Hay Making Season

Stepping Stones

All The Furry Goodness In The World Right Here

Alternate title: That Poor, Poor Puppy

Learning to Read

I have always loved reading to the kids. When we home schooled, we'd go to the library every 2 weeks religiously. The kids would choose no less than half a dozen books each and insist that we read at least half of them as soon as we got home. Every day after lunch, we'd sit down and read for an hour. Becky would sit on one side of me and Josh on the other, while Luke generally sat on my lap.

I tried reading with Micah because truth be told, I missed reading to the kids when they went to school. Micah wasn't really into books though. On the rare occasion that I could get him to sit down with me (to do anything) he'd be far more intent on flipping pages than listening to a story.

I would get creative and ask him to point the dog, or the elephant, or a tree, and he would turn the page. I would point excitedly to the ice cream cone, or show him the kittens, and he'd flip a few pages over. I'd try to read the story, but three words into the first sentence, the page would be turned on me. I took to paraphrasing what the pictures were about as we sped our way through. It went something like this.

Look! A dog!

The dog is running.

He found another dog.

Four dogs.

All done.

That's some quality reading time we spent, let me tell you. I would buy him books about The Roundup Gang, pointing out Woody on every page. It resulted in major page turning. I figured if I couldn't beat him, I'd at least use it as an OT session and bought him thick board books so that he could turn the pages without simply closing the book up on me. We may not have gotten much reading time in, but we had quality OT sessions.

We take wins where we can get them.

I still missed reading with my baby though. And I had gotten to the point where I loathed even sitting down with him to try because when I simply want to read, and he just wants to show off his page turning skills. We are at odds with each other and ended up frustrated more often than not.

So you can imagine, then, that I wasn't as happy as all that when Micah brought me a book the other night and handed it to me. I steeled my nerves, reminded myself that I needed to make it fun for him regardless of my expectations, and proceeded to open to the first page. I waited for him to turn the page, but instead he pointed to the words.

I read.

He listened.

I had to ask him to turn the page.

It was beautiful.

I waited 7 years to read to my baby. And it was just as sweet as I'd imagined it to be.

So How's The Fit?

Micah is a fan of shopping. He loves to hold things up to check for fit, or show me something that he thinks will be fantabulous for my wardrobe, or simply toss his choices into the cart. But before you go getting all jealous of my little personal shopper who doesn't whine and cry while I browse the racks, let me set you straight. He does his share of whining and crying between coordinating outfits and making final selections.

And then there was today.

Today I went out to eat with a friend, who insisted on giving Micah a few dollars of his own to pad his pocket with. After lunch, while shopping through Target, Micah was making selections left and right. A fuchsia blouse in the ladies department that was actually really cute, and a pair of white shorts were put back on the rack. They just weren't his size.

And then I heard him echoing through the clearance section. The echo clearly told me that he escaped and got into the dressing room. I asked the fitting room attendant if a little someone had come by there. Yes, she said. He laid this money on the counter and helped himself to a dressing room. And sure enough, he did. I pocketed his cash and found him trying on a pair of camo short-shorts, in size way too big for even me. He was standing in front of the mirror, holding them up tightly around his waist, with enough excess behind him to fit two more people his size in with him.

The friends we were with today absolutely loved that Micah tried on a pair of ladies shorts. But after spending a day with us, her parting comment was, "I think God said your family needed more excitement, so he blessed you with Micah."

Exciting. That's one way to describe our days.

It Was a Good News At the Doctor Kind of Day

Today was a celebratory kind of day. Micah had a physical (required by the insurance) and he checked out clean and clear. And during the exam, the pediatrician noticed that he was wearing Big Boy Unders.

She. Was. Thrilled.

She congratulated me. And complimented me. And told me how glad she was that he's potty trained now. And as we were walking out the door, she grinned yet again and said "I'm just so happy for you."

Yeh, I feel the same way. It's officially official. And we're so very happy. If you have stock in Huggies, don't be alarmed if the bottom drops out of the market. I'm just saying.

And also, at the ENT the boy actually cooperated for a hearing test. He didn't pass, but after 7 years and umpteen bazillionty tests we've decided that his normal is slightly impaired, and the doctors are reconciling themselves to the fact that I'm good with that. So he can't hear the highest decibels that aren't even part of our everyday life, and he can't hear the very lowest decibels either. I don't find it to be the most horrid thing ever. Plus, he'd never tolerate hearing aids. We still have to hold him down just for a quick look-see in his ears. Can you even imagine the daily struggle with aids? No, you probably couldn't. I'll loan you the little guy for a day if you want to try.

But the good news there? It wasn't recommended that he have tubes right now. She strongly hinting that this fall will be a good time, but I just flat out said, "I'm not so keen on putting them back in if they're not going to last more than 4 months." Jokingly, she replied, "maybe we'll install them with a drop of Super Glue next time." Can you really do that? I mean, seriously. Because I'd be game to try. But as far as I'm concerned, there will not be a Set of Tubes #8 unless I see due cause for them.

And we had good news at the dermatologist's today as well. Besides the fact that Josh's psoriasis is clearing right up (again), Micah went potty. He asked to SIT on the toilet. At the doctor's office. And he sat there and did his job. The angels crowded right into the bathroom with us to sing the Hallelujah Chorus. Thank goodness it was a spacious room. By the beginning of 2011 I'm hoping that accidents and accidentals are a thing of the past. Try not to be jealous of my low standards and goal setting practices.

It was a good, good day. A VERY good day. I think the boy deserves to see Toy Story 3 on Friday.

Counting

One

* The number of credit cards that have been hacked into and compromised. Also the number of phone calls from the credit card company to make me aware of the problem and tell me how they're fixing it. I'm way impressed with the Disney Visa Mouseketeers Protection Program.

* The number of ponds still not finished at our place. It's year 1.5 for that very same project and I'm still on the losing end of the waterfall. It may or may not get done this year, but if it does my money would be on the fact that the whole waterfall would be nothing but a giant plastic glob of glue when I'm done.




Two

* The number of spaniels in the house that are shedding worse than a corgi. The heck, dogs?!

* The number of weeks that we have absolutely nothing going on this summer. I'll get back with you on whether that's a good thing or otherwise.



Three

* The number of days the boys have left before school is out for summer. It can't come soon enough.

* The number of season passes we have to the local amusement park. Mondays are Passholders Get a Buddy in for Free Day, so guess what day our family of more than 3 goes?

* The number of hours that Micah napped Saturday. He also went to bed before 11 PM and slept in until 7 on Sunday morning. I could get used to that. Also, why does he get up earlier and earlier as he gets more tired? Shouldn't it go the other way?


Four

* The number of kids gearing up for summer, begging to stay up later and sleep under the stars. I can't wait to say YES.

* The number of days before Toy Story 3 comes out on the big screen. Why yes, it's on our calendar. And it'll be at the drive-in. Meet you there Friday night!

Saturday Shots

The Baby

The Big Boy

The Daughter

The Artist

Meet the Croc

And The Moral of the Story is to Give Gifts In the Morning, Not Before Bedtime

A few years ago I came across a retro pair of capri-length swim trunks for boys and instantly fell in love. I wanted them so badly that I dreamed of them afterward, but they weren't in a size that fit my boys so I had to pass them up. So when I was at Gymboree this week and found a pair in green and blue stripe, I knew it was fate that brought us together. Plus they were 30% off the clearance price so they were just asking to be bought.

I showed them to Micah, who immediately fell in love. He had to try them on right then and there, and wore them the rest of the evening. I was glad, because I would have hated to have spent $10 on something that would never touch his body. We were both in love with the stripey fun. Win all around.

The next morning the boy was up at 5:00. FIVE IN THE MORNING. He ran down the hall, came into our room, grabbed his fun stripey swim shorts, and had a merry time in them dancing to the Cha Cha Slide blaring at full volume. He loved them so much that he woke extra early just to dance in them before school.

I wasn't loving them nearly as much as I did the previous night. The few brain cells that were awake were asking why on earth I thought it was a good idea to buy those suckers. I thought for a fleeting moment that the boy would be wearing swim trunks to school, but thankfully he changed into normal clothes without a battle.

Upon coming home from school, however, he stripped down and donned the shorts. That was even before he found Woody for an evening of togetherness. The stripey fun trumps Woody! I'm shocked that he's allowed them to go into the laundry without a fuss. But come pooltime, be on the lookout for the boy in the fun stripey shorts. That would be my son.

Warning: It's Going To Be Hysterically Unpleasant. I'd Rather Men Didn't Read. You've Been Warned.

I discovered a few years ago that skirts are cooler in summer than shorts are. I am in love with skirts. I have a large collection of them, and keep on collecting. The skirts in my closet are in many different sizes. The size I'm wearing now rank among some of the larger ones that I own.

Urgle.

But there is a downfall of wearing skirts in larger sizes. It's what you don't see that causes problems. While a skirt will allow air to circulate and cool, there is nothing between the thighs to keep them apart. I have decided that my thighs are named Hatfield and McCoy. They do not like each other, those thighs.

So you see where this is going, right? We'll just cut to the chase. Or chafe, as the case may be. After a particularly blistering day, I decided that I needed something to keep Hatfield and McCoy apart. The search was on.

I know what I want. I want spandex shorts.

I KNOW. Just stop laughing. But they'll be worn underneath skirts and nobody will ever know. Well, except for the entire internet. But that's beside the point. But the spandex? It'll be awesome. It'll be moisture absorbing, and rather coolish. Awesome.

Except that spandex shorts are rather hard to come by. Who knew? I know they're probably hanging by the dozens in sporting goods shops around the county, but I refuse to pay very much for them. I'm cheap that way.

And then I came across something that was rather spandex-like and rather shorts-like, and the price was right. The clincher was the Spanx tag. Dude. Spanx! I've heard good things of that name. Things like sucking in a whole clothing size, or two. Things like miraculous bulge-reduction. Things like making clothing fit. I bought it on the spot for $6. And from what I hear, that's a bargain.

I brought those things home and tried them on and the first thing that struck me was that the buggers were a wee bit on the warm side. I need cool, people! My thighs need to be cooled! Also, because of the Spanx thing, they're high topped. Being short waisted, the high tops go the whole way up to my bra line. THAT won't be hot in the dog days of summer. And also, it did zilch for the sucking in and bulge reduction. The tag says size G, which I'm taking as Grande. But not a Starbucks Grande; a Grande Large. Since I'm a comfortable size G, I thought they would be my size, but maybe I'm not so much a size G. That's good, right? So then why aren't they working at sucking in and holding tight? Are they a size G as in A, B, C, D, E, F, and then G? Because I could then see why they're not good in the bulge reduction department.

Clearly, I am Spanx illiterate.

I am back to looking for spandex shorts. Either that or mens boxer briefs. I'm thinking they might work in a pinch.

Got Milk?

We were at a convenience store getting some cold drinks for a hot day. Micah made a beeline for the milk and pointed out his choice.

That gallon right there would do very well, thankyouverymuch.
 Knowing that he wanted milk, we chose a more conveniently sized bottle for him to make it easier to handle in the van. (Plus, we don't really encourage drinking from the gallon jug.) But the small container was clearly not what he was after. Maybe if he pointed to the gallon a few dozen more times we'd get the hint that it was milk that he wanted.

See? It's in the yellow container? Milk. That's what I want. Not blue. See? That one is blue, and is in the shape of an iced tea container. Not tea, milk. MILK. It's what I want.

Clearly we were the densest parents on Planet Earth.

And then I had a brilliant idea. It was a long shot because the boy doesn't reason well. You can't explain things to him and have him understand. But it was worth a shot. I held the small blue container beside the large yellow one and pointed to the word MILK on each one. I showed him how they're the same word, and both containers are milk, just different sizes.

And by golly, it worked. His little light bulb went on, he reached for the small blue bottle of milk, and happily went his way without saying another word.

Wow.

Reasoning and comprehension. Life could become a whole lot easier for all of us if this is going to be a trend.

Battery Operated

The genius who invented battery-operated toys has been cursed a  thousand times over by parents everywhere. We learned early on with our very first child that batteries die. As in, "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey. The batteries are dead." Replacing batteries is a ridiculous idea that crazy people invented.

So all the toys that we have on hand are either the battery-less type, or the battery-is-dead type, and Micah was raised in a family that has no battery operated toys.  Or at least any working battery operated toys. And this was the way it was right up until this past weekend.

This past weekend, Sam fixed a toy.

It was harmless enough to start. Just unscrew the battery box lid, replace batteries, and ta-da! Batteries! Fixed!

Micah was thrilled with his new working toy. It ran all by itself! Oh, how he played and played with it. And then, as that toy bumped into another toy, he realized that Another Toy had a few screws that could be removed. So he fetched a screwdriver and batteries for daddy to make Another Toy work, too.

Two working toys! Oh, the bliss! And there are more toys with screws to be removed!

We are now living in a noisy world. One where toy guitars play, and trucks run all by themselves, and Buzz talks.

We have now come full circle.

Saturday Shots

Dreaming of Song

Brothers

Summertime Snack

Gratuitous Cute

New Griller on the Block

I must apologize for the fuzz and grit. My batteries are subpar and replacements are on their way. Even fully charged I am getting crud. I'm not happy. At all.

Win, Lose, Draw

On Monday I chose shorts to match the shirt that Micah was wearing and laid them on the coffee table. I figured I'd dress him after he ate breakfast. As I was checking email, the boy saw the clothing selection and decided it wasn't up to muster for the day. He hid them. I spent a good portion of that morning looking for them.

I have yet to find them.

I've checked in the washer and dryer, in the trash, in the dirty laundry baskets, in the clean laundry baskets, in his dresser, in his brothers' rooms, in the basement and even outside. They're gone. Vanished into thin air. I pray the kid never hides my car keys.

Today the school took the first grade to see Shrek at the theaters. (How fun is that?!) The kids made color-it-yourself Shrek shirts to wear today, and I had Micah's laying on the counter right beside his Voice to remind me to put it on him.

The boy hid it.

I woke Sam and a frantic search ensued. It was mandatory that they wear those shirts. Thankfully it was easily located this time, but he was not really in a Hey I Want To Wear My New Shrek Shirt mood. He was coaxed into putting it on and I was all impressed that he did it with no grumbling on his part. As soon as it was on he patted it, said "there" and looked at us. ("There" is his way of saying, "see? That's what I wanted all along. I'm happy now.")

Except the "there" was for our benefit, not his. Immediately after the "there" he then proceeded to take it off. Clearly he said, "see, I tried it on, it looks incredibly tacky, I'm not wearing it, we're done."

Consider it paybacks for the lost shorts, son. Touche.

And This is How It's Done

While I whine about the dog hair that threatens to overtake us fifteen ten hundred times per day, having dogs in the house is really a bonus. I sweep dog hair All.The.Time. but I never sweep food off the floor. If the kids drop a piece of toast butter side down, the dogs clean up all the evidence, even licking the butter up and finding the crumbs that got under the cabinets. If the kids tip their bowl as they're carrying it to the sink and the milk dribbles across the floor, I never know it. Dogs are awesome like that.

We take full advantage of that, of course. If I spill something, or drop something, or somehow make (yet another) mess in the kitchen, I simply call the dogs over, tap my foot in front of the mess to make them aware of where to find the goods, and step back and enjoy. I guess I can't really complain that I don't have maid service. It's just too bad that they're such hairy buggers.

It's taken Micah a while to catch onto this Feed the Dog process. Mostly because we adhere to the 5 second rule. (Yes, even with dogs. But that's in-family only. I would never feed you, as a guest in my home, from the floor.) When something falls, the dogs hear it and come running. We shoo them away, grab it quick, and go about our merry way. Micah knows this, and does it well.

But he's finally learned that having those girls in the house are a bonus when there is food on the floor that you'd rather NOT eat.

Micah spilled Kool-Aid on the floor. One cannot re-use Kool-Aid that falls, and Micah must have been feeling lazy because generally he grabs a towel and starts mopping when things like that happen. (I love that kid.) Not tonight. Nope, tonight he called for backup.

He tapped the floor at the red splot. The dogs were either uninterested in Kool-Aid (which could be very true) or they didn't get the fact that he really wasn't trying to feed them his fish sticks. Either way, they weren't being very cooperative with the Cleanup On Aisle 3.

Micah broke out the Creative. He got down on all fours and showed them what was expected. He lapped up the Kool-Aid.

I find that kinda gross.

Lost: First Tooth. If Found, Please Return for Tooth Fairy Reward.

For some odd reason, the idea of Micah having a loose tooth scared me. Maybe it was the fact that my baby is not a baby. Maybe it's that he wouldn't understand and would have this wiggly thing causing him problems with eating. Maybe it was a fear that I would have to hold him down and pull it out, scarring him for life. Who knows what weird things a mom-mind latches onto to make it freak out.

So a few weeks ago Micah got a loose tooth. It scared me. But as it continued to just harmlessly sit askew in his lower jaw, I gradually got used to the idea that it was happening and there was nothing that I could do about it. On occasion I would check to see if it was still there, and if it was causing problems. It was. And it wasn't. So I continued to leave it alone.

And then over the weekend Becky asked when Micah's tooth fell out. So we tracked him down, and asked him to see inside his mouth, and sure enough the tooth was gone. All that worry for nothing.

And yet another milestone that I missed. The entry in the non-existent baby book would read something like this:

First Lost Tooth: Sometime in May, 2010. Probably the weekend of Memorial Day. Not a clue where it is. Or when it fell out. Or even if he was aware of it happening. He may or may not poop it out in the future. We may or may not ever know if he did. Bottom right front.

I'm just really glad that he's clueless about the Tooth Fairy's existence. How would one handle that little dilemma?