Should I be concerned? Maybe a lil' bit?

I mean, obviously, everyone loves a good sock monkey...but pink? That's your sister's, little buddy!  Oy. Santa will have to make a (large, bold, high-lighted) mental note to bring you a more socially appropriate brand-spankin' new, blue sock monkey of your very own for Christmas this year. Especially since, over the past few days, pink sock monkey has had to accompany us everywhere. Grocery store, doctor's office, music class, lunch, naptime, diaper changes, carseat-- you name it, pink sock monkey is there, hanging onto that cute little neck of yours for dear life. 

But until then, I've gotta admit...

...you look pretty darn cute in pink  :-)

"Snips & snails, and puppy-dog tails...

...that's what little boys are made of."

~old-school nursery rhyme, circa early 19th century.

Dear Gav,
 Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being such a BOY. Truly, I mean it-- thank you for living up to this reputation and for never letting me down in this regard. Especially in recent weeks.

You always find (exciting, unexpected) ways to surprise me and keep me on my toes.

From the moment I learned we were to have a son, I didn't quite know what to expect but couldn't wait to learn.

(yes, those would indeed be SOCKS in the ice tray.)

There certainly is never a dull moment with you in our lives, and I appreciate the fact that you have taught me to loosen up a little, and laugh at the constant, silly insanity that you bring to this home  :-)

And despite the fact that you may create a little bit more work for me around the house these days, I couldn't imagine a day without you in my life. So, Gav-- thank you, thank you, thank you!

Love you billions and billions!

XoXo,
Momma

At least sick days provide some good quotes

1). "Oh Gavey, I'm really sorry, but big sissy doesn't snuggle boys with boogies all over their face."  (in response to her sick baby brother trying to climb up on the couch and snuggle with her.)


2). "Momma, Gav's nose is really yucky and it makes me gag if I look at it."
     "Ok honey, well don't look at it then."
     "I can't help it Momma, it is so yucky and boogey-ish that it just keeps following me everywhere!"


3). "Gav, please stop touching my stuffed animals unless you Purell your hands first. I don't want them to get sick too!"


4). (in response to watching me give Gav his first dose of antibiotics for his ear infections:) "Oh, great Momma. Now his poop is going to be really stinky again. Just like Walter the Farting Dog."

Why do so many of my posts involve the word "penis"?

As I stood at the kitchen sink this afternoon, straining the mac-and-cheese twisty pasta I had just concocted for lunch, a very perplexed voice from the living room called my name:

"Momma?"

"Yes, Aves?"

"Are there any humans with four penises?"

(stopping mid-macaroni-strain to try and contemplate what on Earth she had just asked me, and more importantly... why.) "Ummmm, no honey. As far as I know, humans have just one.... why?"

"Well, because cows have four penises, Momma!"

"No honey, I'm pretty sure cows have just one also," I tell her as I haphazardly begin to stir the milk and cheese into the pasta pot.

"No Momma, they really do! (giggling) They really do have four penises. And it looks pretty funny! Come see!" 

In this moment, I am absolutely terrified. Terrified  to turn my head towards the living room TV and see the horror of what animalistic porno her poor, preschooler eyes have stumbled upon whilst I cooked her lunch in the kitchen.

Slowly, I rest the pasta spoon on the counter, and make my way into the living room. Before I see just what she is watching, I can see the Nick, Jr. logo on the bottom of the screen, and am at least relieved that she is watching a Momma-authorized channel. Phew.

And then, I stop dead in my tracks, and my eyes are immediately fixed upon the following image she has so graciously paused on the TV:






"See Momma? FOUR penises! Isn't that so silly! A-ha-hahahaha!!!"

And in conclusion, I'd publicly like to thank Nickelodeon's "Back at the Barn Yard" for thoroughly confusing my daughter about the male cow's anatomy & capabilities.

How preschoolers measure love

(At dinner tonight)

A: "Hey Momma?"

"Yes?"


A: "Do you want to know how much I love you?"

"Of course I do! Tell me."


A: "Like, billions. Like you know all the people in the whole world? And all the stars in the whole world? And also all the zebras in the whole world? And all the pumpkins in the whole world? THAT much!"

"Wow, baby! Wonderful! That's so much!"


A: "Oh, and one more thing. You know INDIA? I love you that much too. As much as INDIA!! And that's a very big street."

Peet-a-Boo!!

Prologue: Gavin's nether regions- you know- his, ahem, manhood - is affectionately referred to around here as his "Noodle." This, after Ava seeing it for the first time a few days after his birth, intently observed a diaper change and remarked that "baby Gav has a looooooong, silly noodle!" ANd from that day forward, "noodle" it was. However at this point in time, Gav is just learning to say words and can't quite master "noodle," and therefore has re-named his noodle,  "Noonie." 



________________________________________________________________________________



One of Gavin's first words was actually the phrase,  "Peet-a-boo!" -- Obviously, his own little rendition of peek-a-boo. (This is undoubtedly because Ava started playing it with him fresh-out-the-womb, and it was such a familiar sound/word to him, that it was a natural choice once his little brain started to figure out how to form and say words.)

For several months now, we'd look over at him, hide our face behind our hands, and watch him mimic this motion as his tiny, happy little voice shrieked:

 Peeeeeet-a-boooooo!

Super cuteness right there, if you ask me.

And so this morning as I cleaned up the post-breakfast madness in the kitchen, it wasn't entirely shocking to hear his voice, from behind his closed bedroom door, exclaiming Peet-a-boo!!! Peet-a-boo!!! followed by insane amounts of giggling.

What was shocking, however, was that his big sister was at school, and nobody else was home. Who on earth could he be peet-a-booing with?

Ohmygosh. It hit me. I suddenly envisioned him, sitting his chubby little self in front of the floor length closet mirror in his bedroom, doing peet-a-boo with his own reflection, and realized what an adorable photo-opp this would make for the baby book! Leaving the dishwasher wide-open and the sink still running  of course remembering to shut the sink off as to conserve water like a good, environmentally conscious little housewife, I booked it into the living room to grab the camera and then quietly crept down the hallway, praying that I wouldn't  interrupt the uber-cute moment I was about to capture on film.

I was giddy with anticipation!

I creaked his bedroom door open, slowly, quietly, camera in hand, & ready to go, and...

Hmmm.
No baby in front of mirror. I was perplexed.

"Peet-a-boooo!"  I heard again, and realized it was coming from behind the glider in the corner. Slowly, I crept to the corner, and peered over the glider.

And there he was. My boy. 

Diaper completely off,
      in all of his glory,

          sitting on his bum, 

               feet together and knees apart.

He looked up at me and smiled mischeivously.

"Where is your diapey, little man!??" I asked him

He looked down at his bare little situation down below, looked back at me, and replied, "Uhhhh-ohhh."

'Uh-oh is right," I replied as I picked up his (thank goodness, dry) diaper from the floor next to him. (sidenote, said diaper had clearly been completely mangled in his fervent attempt at freeing it from his body.)


And then, still sitting there bare-bum on the floor, (with his feet still together,) he closed his knees for about ten seconds, then threw them apart, looked down at his manhood, and shrieked:

"Peet-a-Boooooo, Noonie!"

and giggled.

That's right, folks.

My son was playing peek-a-boo with none other than....his very own noonie.


I'm sure he will thank me in fifteen years for deciding against photographing this totally bizarre adorable little milestone, and for recounting it words instead. And in the end, I suppose this makes a much better baby book entry than what I had initially envisioned  :-)

An Avaism for your Wednesday commute

Today in typical Wednesday style, Gav & I picked Ava up from school promptly at 1:00 and then had to book it to ballet, which starts at 1:30 on the nose. 

Ava was tired from a long day at school when she got in the car, and was unfortunately  under the very false assumption that she might be afforded a calm, serene, tranquil 20 minutes of shut-eye before having to shake her little booty on the dance floor.  However, it soon became clear-- after 4 nonstop minutes of Gavin's high-pitched squeals and screams (of delight, of course...), that this wasn't going to be that kind of drive.

No, this was going to be quite the opposite of that. You know, the loud, shrill, ear-piercing, glass-shattering kind of drive. 

Ughhhh.

Poor Ava tried a few times to (very politely) express to her brother-- 

"Gavey, can you please be quiet? Big sissy is tired."

"Please stop screeching like that buddy?"

"Gavey, that hurts my ears! Stop yelling!"

To which he happily replied each time, with a massive smirk on his face, something to the effect of:

"Ahhhh-deeeeeeeeeeeeeeee--doooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!"  (in the range of an opera soprano, and at approximately 900 decibels.)

Finally in frustration, Ava let out a loud, exasperated sigh, threw her hands in the air, and asked me:

"Ughhhhh!!!! I am so sick of this!!! Momma, why are boys always so loud and so...penis-y?????"

 

More tea ASAP!!!

As I lay sick & miserable in bed on this icky,  raw, damp, dark evening, combating the first nasty head cold of the 2010 fall/winter season, I listened from behind my closed bedroom door to the pandemonium fervent efforts put forth by my husband to round up the troops for bedtime, (albeit an hour and fifteen minutes late.) 

I heard no tooth-brushing. No tucking-in. No bedtime songs, no before-bed potty-ing. No picking out stories, or zippering up of footie pajammies. None of these things.

But what I did hear, was giggling...lots and lots of quiet, conspicuous giggling. Soon followed by the quick little pitter-pattering footsteps up and down the hallway...and then more giggling, which soon erupted into explosive belly laughter. 

I quickly muted the TV and strained my (clogged, throbbing) ears to hear what was going on outside my door.

And then I heard the following:

Ava: "I'm the naked Elf! I'm the naked Elf! I'm the naked-est Elf!!!"

Gavin: (pitter-pattering down the hallway after her,) "Bum-bum! Bum-bum! Bum-bum!" 

(*followed immediately by the sound of 2 tiny little brother hands spanking his big-sissy's bum.)

Two things are for certain at this very moment...

1). I better start chugging more of this herbal looseleaf tea and get better ASAP before things get any more out of control around here,

and

2). I freakin' love my life.   :-)

That's all.