Monthly Archives: March 2013

Hey, the kid knows what he likes.

Communicating with a two year old can be tricky. They can understand a lot of what you say, as long as it’s not a State of the Union address, or an admonishment not to grab something from their brother. You can understand a lot of what they say, as long as you have some context or a UN translator.

I should have remembered this when I asked Little “What kind of cake would you like for your birthday?” Without hesitation, he eagerly replied “A Trash!” (Which means “garbage truck” in his language.)

I might have just smiled and distracted him with some veggie sticks (Veggie! Sticks!), so that I could proceed with the minimalist cake with little balloons on sticks that I already had planned. Alas, his big brother, the enforcer, was listening. “A garbage truck birthday cake! Little can have a trash birthday cake! That’s what you want, right Little?! A garbage truck birthday cake?”

Rats. Thanks a lot, kid.

So on Little’s birthday, we didn’t have a big party with a lot of other toddlers — after all, where would we put them? We just did things that the birthday boy likes to do. We ate scrambled eggs for breakfast. We went to the park. We had garbage truck birthday cake.

Apparently caught in the post-Sandy flooding.

Apparently caught in the post-Sandy flooding.

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Again with the witch’s kitchen.

Who would throw away raisins and almonds?

Who would throw away raisins and almonds?

And he loved it. That is, until we went to cut the cake. Apparently his second birthday was Little’s time to learn that you can have cake, or you can eat cake, but you can’t do both.Tough life lessons, eased by ice cream.

(The pattern was rather easy to do, and the man of my dreams was thrilled beyond words to have Entenmann’s chocolate covered doughnuts in the house. Also, salty pretzels dipped in frosting and I had a torrid affair over lunch one day.)

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Filed under Home Ec, I make things

What happened to February?

Just now, for about 20 minutes, all four of us were home and doing our own thing. Big was playing legos. Little was sticking play-doh on the window. The Man of My Dreams was reading the newspaper. I was knitting. Everybody was happily engaged in some sort of (reasonably acceptable) leisure activity. Nobody was doing any chores. Nobody was screaming. Nobody was grabbing from their brother.

Is this a harbinger of leisure time to come? Will there come a time when I need not be directly involved in the fun of the Fun Apartment?

Nope. Turns out it was a fluke. As I tried to record the moment, I have been called in to negotiate the release of a baby-doll hostage, and remind both boys that we do not play in the toilet. And I have to scrape play-doh off the window.

Ah well. I’ll take a 20 minute miracle.

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Filed under Not cool, Mommy