Monday, April 20, 2009

Juicy Words

Gamble's been a real trip lately. It's actually very hard to remember he's five.

The other day he was telling us how fantastic things were, or how stupendous, or how beautiful Random is, or how gorgeous Mommie is.

It sounded so crazy coming from him, we asked him about it.

"In school, they keep telling us to use 'juicy' words."

Who's the Boss?

I remember it as if it were yesterday. Or more like it was a couple weeks back, which it almost surely was. The question took me by surprise, out of the blue.

"Daddie, who's the boss?"

I look around sheepishly. This is a trick question, depending on whether the Mommie is around and I know it.

Shoot. I can't see the Mommie anywhere, but we have a pretty open floor plan, so I hazard a guess.

"Mommie is the boss, right?"

"No. Try again."

"Uh, ok. Well, how about Daddie's the boss? That sounds cool, right?"

"Nope! Try again."

"Um, is it Tony Danza? Because if it is, you and I need to talk." I kind of spaced out wondering whether Tony Danza was the boss on that show. Or was it Angela? Or Mona?

He turns the bottle of barbecue sauce in front of him around triumphantly. What I read on the neck of the bottle is what he says with a flourish.

"The sauce is the boss!"

Oh. Of course. Sure enough, right there on the bottle of Sweet Baby Ray's (the only BBBQ sauce we'll buy), that's what it says. So for a long stretch there, he stopped calling it barbecue sauce, and just referred to it as the boss.

Last night, I was giving the kids dinner, and Random demanded to have barbecue sauce like her brother. Now, she's had it before, but it's not a frequent occurrence. I gave her a little squirt of it to dip her pizza in (like big brother). She ate it all up, and she started saying "Mo. Mo. Mo. Peezh!"

"Random, what do you want more of?"

Emphatically, she stabbed a finger downward toward the place where the sauce had been and said "Boss!" clear as day.

I didn't even know she'd been paying attention.

That was all well and good, but she didn't know her brother has moved on to calling it "50% more free!" (what it says on the neck of the latest bottle...)

Monday, April 6, 2009

In Soviet Russia Kid Messes with You

Two years old and she has quite the sense of humor.

It's happening frequently enough that it's not a coincidence. She knows her barnyard noises. For the longest time, I would have this conversation with her:

Me: What sound does a cow make?

Random: Mooooooo.

Me: What sound does a horse make?

Random: Nayyyyyy.

Me: What sound does a duck make?

Random: Kack kack kack.

Me: What sound does a frog make?

Random: Dibbit dibbit!

Me: What sound does a StormTrooper make?

Random: Pew pew pew!

And yes, I usually ask that one, and yes, she does know it. It wasn't on the See and Say when I was a kid, but I'm

thinking of petitioning George Lucas to team up with Mattel and have a barnyard See and Say that includes a

StormTrooper, just for kicks.

Where was I? Oh yes. Little Miss and her twisted barnyard humor.

So now that she knows we know that she knows her sounds, she's mixing it up. She won't tell us anymore what the sounds are.

Me: What sound does a cow make?

Random (grinning): Baa!

Me: Random! What sound does a cow make?

Random (louder): Baaaaaa!

Me: Random Jolie! You know what sound a cow makes! What sound does it make?

Random (giggling now): BAAAAA BAAAAA BAAAAA!

And at first we thought she just forgot, that maybe it was too far out of memory. I was ready to sit her down with a whole farmyard of toys to go through the. But then the following:

Me: What sound does a cow make?

Random: Mo... (pauses) Baaaaa!

Me: What sound does a frog make?

Random: Rib- (pauses, grins)

Me (giving up): Ok, Random, you win. What sound does a sheep make?

Random: Baaaaaaaa!

Me: Good girl!

Two and the False Choice

Random has figured out the fallacy of the false choice, and at only two years old.

See, a long time ago, Nicole warned me that I have to give kids choices, and let them take ownership of their decisions. I watched as she expertly gave them choices, and they picked and happily enjoyed them.

For Gamble, it still works.

For Random, it's already ceased. Given two choices that she doesn't like, say A) and B), she'll almost always choose "Noooooooooooo." Yes, it has that many O's in it.

For her, the answer is C) Noooooooooone of the above.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Daddie and the Forgotten Task

There's one thing to be busy to the point of distraction, but this was something else.

I'd been waiting for checks to show up to pay some medical bills, and they were overdue. They came Thursday and I was trying to write out bills while putting the kids through bedtime paces (I chose that over cleaning up the kitchen). When Random got out of the bathtub, I was concentrating on a bunch of different things at once.

It truly was a triumph of multitasking. I was writing bills, then I got her in her nightgown (she loves dresses at night), and I got hot, so I went into my room to change into shorts, and went into the bathroom to freshen up me and Random.

I sat back down to bills, and Random wandered downstairs. She wandered around for a while, and then went to give Mommie a hug.

So from the loft, I hear, "Oh, hi sweetie! You come to give Mommie a hug? How swee... AWW! What? Why are you wet?!?"

Right then I knew, but I shrunk back into my chair, trying to become invisible.

Mommie came up the stairs with her. "Honey?" she asked me. "Forget something?"

"Um. A diaper?"

"Guess who gets to give Random another bath!"

"Um. Me?"


Seriously, this is the first time I've ever messed up the diaper duty this badly. Not only did I get to give little girl a bath, but I stepped in the pee-puddle in the carpet downstairs and got to clean that up, too.

Not likely to forget again, me.