Archive for April, 2013

4/29/13, Little Isaac Newton


“Oh, no!  Did you step on a Lego?”

Six-year-old grabs foot. “Yeah.”

“See?  That’s why I’m always asking you to pick them up.”

“But Mom!  It’s not my fault.  It’s because of GRAVITY!”


“YES!  Its makes Legos fall to the floor!”

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4/26/13, You better use lots of soap!

“Okay, Mom!  All done!”  The three-year-old is strutting out of the bathroom all proud of his big boy self.

“Good job, honey!”  I check the seat and walls for smears.  Miraculously, the toilet has been flushed.  “Did you wash your hands?”

“Uh-huh.” Coy smile.

“You did?”


“Let me see them.”

“Fine! Here!” He flashes me his bone-dry, not-been-washed-in-hours hands.

“You did not wash your hands.  Get back in there.”


“Because you can’t walk around with poopy fingers.”

“FINE!” He stomps off toward the bathroom then stops in his tracks and turns. “Mom?”



“Uh . . . Okay, honey.  Then you better use lots of soap.”

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4/22/13, Heard it from a friend

“Mom, did you know that today is Lincoln’s birthday?”

“Really?  Where did you hear that?”

“From a friend.” The six-year-old goes back to crunching on his after-school apple.

“A friend?” It’s April.  I’m pretty sure it’s not Lincoln’s birthday.

“Yeah.” He avoids my eyes.

“Which friend?”

“Well,” he sighs. “It was actually my brain’s friend.”

“Your brain’s friend?”

“Yeah. It was my lungs.”

“Oh. Your lungs told your brain it was Lincoln’s birthday?”

“Yeah. They’re always making up stories.”

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4/17/13, Wanna Dance?

“Hey, Mom!  Do you want to listen to some cool tunes?” A six-year-old grin pushes its way into the bathroom.

“Not right now, honey.  I need privacy.”

“But listen to this!” He slaps his new fat toothbrush onto the counter and presses a button.  Taio Cruz begins singing his hit song “Dynamite” out of the handle.

                I throw my hands up in the air sometimes,
               Saying AYO! gotta let go!

“Wow!  That’s pretty cool, hon, but . . .”

              I wanna celebrate and live my life,
             Saying AYO! baby, let’s go!

He’s not listening.

            I came to dance, dance, dance, dance

He’s dancing with his eyes closed. The monkey bobs his head from side to side. Then he swings his six-year-old hips back and forth.

           I hit the floor ’cause that’s my plans, plans, plans, plans

He spins and strikes a pose. He’s knocking his knees and crossing his arms like an old Vaudevillian. I nearly fall off the toilet I’m laughing so hard.

          And it goes on and on and on……  Until the singing toothbrush runs out of steam.

“So, did you like my Toothy Tunes?”

“That was pretty awesome.  Um . . . can I have some privacy now?”

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4/16/13: “When I was a hundred years old…”

“Guess what, Mom?”

“What, Henry?”

“When I was a hundred years old I had a new house and a new mom.”

“Really. When you were one hundred years old?”

“And she always gave me pancakes with lots of butter in my new house.”

“So what are you saying? Do you want butter?”

“No. Just with my new mom.”

“Uh. Okay, honey.”

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4/8/13, Fair Warning

“Mom, I’m a special baby Ewok who loves hugs!”

“You are?”

The six-year-old nods then crawls across the floor on all fours and up into my lap.

“Okay, Baby Ewok” Big hugs and kisses.

The three-year-old begins whining and grunting insistently on the other side of the room.

“Are you a baby Ewok too?”

Pathetic sad nod.

“Well, come over here and get some hugs.”

The lap is suddenly full of snuggly monkeys. It’s nice work if you can get it. Smooch. Smooch. Where’s a camera when you need it? Because it’s only a matter of time before the two little apes begin pushing and shoving.

“HEY! Stop kicking! Hands to yourself! We don’t punch Mommy! Calm down you two or hugging time is OVER!”

“Be careful, Mom,” the older one says. “I cry easily.”

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4/5/13, The Morning News

“Hey, Mom!  Do you know what “Chi” is in Legends of Chima?”

I’m seasoned enough in Boy to know he’s referring to some crap-tastic Lego show. “No, honey.  What is it?”

His eyes grow wide with wonder. “It’s this giant orb that glows blue, and if you put in your chest, you feel the Force of Nature.”

I say with as much reverence as one can muster without coffee, “Wow.”

He nods, convinced he’s just shared some rare pearl of wisdom, then goes back to eating his Cheerios.

Not to be out done, the smaller one pipes up with a mouth full of cereal. “Hey, Mom!”

“Yes, baby?”

Big grin. “I got boobs!”