Reports of Her Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

Theo is very curious about death. Initially, we told him that people and animals who die "go up to the stars." That satisfied him for a while, but then he wanted to know more. One thing he wondered about was how old people are when they die. Not wanting to get into tragedies and the sadness of people dying young, I simply told him that people die "when they're around 100 or so." I figured that we don't know anyone near 100, so he wouldn't be concerned about someone he knows dying soon.

The other day, Chris took Theo and Sam to the hardware store, and Theo got to talking about his great-grandmother.

Theo: Dad, how old is Great-Grandma Norma?
Chris: She's 89.
Theo (with a look of great worry): Oh no--that's dead!

Chris assured him that she was definitely not dead, and all was well. But then today, when I got him off the school bus, our elderly neighbor was outside. She cheerfully said hello to Theo, who replied, "How old is our neighbor?" I quickly said, "Theo, that's not polite to ask..." and she said, "Oh, does he want to know how old I am?" I smiled and said he did, and she replied, "Well, honey, I'm probably about 100." (She's actually in her eighties...)

Theo looked at her and said, "Are you going up to the stars soon?"

Mortified, I started to giggle as I said, "NO, honey, she's fine!" And Mary (our neighbor) said, "I couldn't hear him! What did he say?" I tried to put her off, but she was persistent, so I finally explained that he thinks people die when they're 100. She started laughing and said, "Oh no--and I told him I'm 100!"

Meanwhile (because I needed to be more embarrassed), Theo was standing behind me singing a forbidden song that he sort of made up (he embellished a song he's heard on YouTube). The lyrics?

"Dead things to find--so many dead things to find!"

Oh dear...

Christmas Wishes

I had an interesting conversation with Theo about his Christmas list today:

Theo: Mom, I want a really, really loud drum set for Christmas. With cymbals. That would make me really happy, Mom.
Me: I'm sure it would. Though I'm not so sure it'd make me too happy....
Theo: And an electric guitar, Mom. Can I have an electric guitar for Christmas?
Me: We'll see what Santa brings you.... Is there anything else you want? [I was curious to see whether he'd include anything not related to music, since his other requests have been a CD player and CDs.]
Theo: Um, yes. I'd like a crock pot.
Me: A crock pot?? Why??
Theo (matter-of-factly): Because I don't have one.
Me: That's true. But what do you want to do with a crock pot?
Theo: Make things, Mom. Like cereal and tofu.
Me: Oh, okay.
Theo: I also want a coffeemaker, Mom.
Me: A coffeemaker? But you can't drink coffee yet! What are you going to do with it?
Theo: Make coffee and drink it, Mom.

Of course. Because all four-year-olds should drink coffee and eat slow-cooked tofu while jamming on their really loud drum sets and electric guitars....

Crime and Punishment

Some weeks ago, I made the mistake of introducing the concept of jail to Theo. We were riding on the BART train for the first time, he wasn't behaving terribly well, and when I told him for the umpteenth time not to get out of his seat and he shot back, "What happens if I do?" I sarcastically replied, "They'll throw you in jail."

Yes, yes, I know--not my finest parenting moment. Believe me, I'm paying the price, as Theo wants to know everything about jail now. Our initial conversation about it went like this:

Theo: What's jail, Mom?
Me: It's a place where you go for a very, very long time out when you've been misbehaving.
Theo: What kind of time out?
Me: Not a fun one. You stay in a little room all of the time and don't get to do fun stuff. You don't want to go there.
Theo: Do they have elevators at jail?
Me: I don't think so. Probably stairs. [He loves elevators--the lack of them would be a drawback to him.]
Theo (starting to get nervous): Do kids go to jail?
Me: No, no! Don't worry, honey--you can't go to jail unless you're 18. And you have to do something really bad to go, anyway. You're a good boy--you won't go to jail. Don't worry about it.

Eventually I fielded all of the questions, and I figured the subject was more or less closed. (Well, as closed as any subject is with Theo.) Alas, that was not the case. His teacher wrote me a note and said she was laughing because some other kid brought a toy police car in for sharing, and Theo piped up with, "Police cars take you to jail! You can go to jail when you're 18!" And then later that week, I went to pick him up for his social skills class, and his teacher said, "We had a visit from Buster the Bus today, and Theo really liked that! Theo, do you remember what Buster told us about riding the bus?"

Theo replied very matter-of-factly, "You use a quiet voice on the bus. You don't yell and scare the driver. Otherwise you'll go to jail."

Um, no--Buster didn't tell them they'd go to jail. Theo added that part. :-)

And the last few days, his favorite song, which we've heard over and over and over? "Jailhouse Rock." He even asked to watch the video--and I obliged, as there's nothing questionable in it. But now I realized that the video makes jail look pretty darn fun, with people dancing everywhere. Uh oh--I hope he doesn't aspire to go to jail now!

The Dangers of YouTube

Theo loves to watch videos on YouTube. And for a while, he kept managing to find "inappwopwiate" videos, so I took YouTube off the iPad--but the smart little turkey figured out how to access YouTube on a Web browser, so I was foiled. And by then he was old enough to usually realize when something is "inappwopwiate," and he will turn it off and announce it to me loudly. So, I relented and put YouTube back on.

One thing he likes on YouTube is a little video of a song called "Cool Things to Find." I think it's a kids' song about exploring and finding neat treasures or some such thing. Harmless. Except that he stumbled upon a parody of it called "Cool Ways to Die." The song sounds exactly the same, so it took a couple of times of hearing it before I realized what it was and put an end to him watching it. But by then, the damage was done. He's now fascinated by it and keeps talking about it. He wanders around singing, "Dead things to find...so many dead things to find!" which sounds like some sort of serial-killer theme song!!

But worse, it has brought about the dreaded, "Mom, what does 'die' mean?" question. I answered, "It means to go up to the stars, honey," because a while back we talked about people and animals going up to the stars when they get very, very old. (My dad isn't living, my Mom's dog passed away, and Chris's parents' cat passed away...so we had to come up with something, as Theo wondered about his grandfather and these pets.)

So yesterday, in typical abrupt Theo fashion, he announced out of the blue, "Mom, if there's fire coming out of your head, you need to go up to the stars." This delivered with absolutely no emotion--just as if stating fact. I started to laugh and then realized he was serious and said, "Oh! Yes. If there was fire coming out of your head, you would probably go up to the stars." And I realized that the lovely "Cool Ways to Die" parody has a shot of someone whose head is on fire.

Thank you, YouTube...

Theo Feliciano

Theo loves the song "Feliz Navidad." For the past several days, he's been watching a video of Jose Feliciano performing it live. Chris told him yesterday that Jose Feliciano can't see. And so this is the rendition of "Feliz Navidad" Theo treated us to this morning. We tried really, really hard not to laugh!

IT Professional in Training?

Theo has an old iPhone that we recycled to be an iPod Touch. As such, it is WiFi-enabled, so when he's using it at a WiFi hotspot, like our house, he can access the Internet. This makes him happy, as he likes to watch YouTube videos.

All well and good, but he gets rather annoyed when he brings it in the car, where there is no WiFi hotspot. I've explained to him over and over again that it will only work at home (because we don't sign onto WiFi hotspots for him when we're out and about--he's four, for heaven's sake! He doesn't need constant Internet access!), but he doesn't believe me. So today, he came up with a solution to his problem.

Theo: Mom, I'm going to go inside my computer. Will you miss me?
Me: Well, yes, of course. Which computer? And why?
Theo: The computer in my iPhone.
Me: Ah, okay. What are you going to do in there?
Theo: I'm going to go in the computer and turn some knobs and do some switches and fix my WiFi.

I see a possible future as an IT professional for him....

Not Exactly a Wax Likeness...

Theo loves Lady Gaga. And he loves all things related to pooping and bathrooms. So I suppose it is perhaps the highest compliment to Gaga that he called me into the bathroom this morning to inspect his poop, which he claimed "looks just like Lady Gaga!"

For the record, it didn't really look like Gaga to me. More just like poop. But I got to thinking about Madame Tussaud's, and it occurred to me that perhaps Theo could start his own museum of celebrity likenesses...created out of poop!

A Clever Solution

I bought a bunch of bananas, but they're not yet ripe. This upset Theo, but he came up with a rather creative solution:

Theo: Why are the bananas green?
Me: They aren't ripe yet. We just need to wait a couple of days for them to turn yellow and ripen.
Theo: I want one!
Me: Well, you'll need to wait until they ripen. When they turn yellow, they'll be ready to eat.
Theo: Okay, the monkeys can paint them yellow!

So I guess we just need to hire some monkeys to ripen our bananas....

Party Time

Theo has never had a birthday party, mainly because I'm not a big party person. Don't get me wrong--we make his birthday very special every year! We just haven't done a formal party. This year, however, we may have to change that. Because Theo has ideas...big ideas....

Theo: Mom, who's going to come to my party?
Me: What party?
Theo: My birthday party.
Me: Your birthday isn't for six more months. I don't know what we're doing. Something fun.
Theo: We're having a party, Mom.
Me: We are? I thought maybe we might go somewhere fun and stay overnight at a hotel, since you love doing that. Doesn't that sound fun?
Theo: Okay, Mom. All of my friends can come to the hotel.
Me: Uh...no. That would be instead of a party with your friends.
Theo: I want a party with my friends. I want 100 friends to come over.
Me (laughing): You don't even know 100 people, and that's way too many for a party. Think smaller.
Theo: Okay, how about 10?
Me: Maybe...
Theo: It's going to be a dance party, Mom. With rock music. We can play my CDs, and my friends can dance.
Me: Is that so?
Theo: Yes. Could you put lights up, Mom?
Me: Lights?
Theo: Yes. You can just drill holes in the wall, Mom, and then you put the lights up in there. We need lights for my dance party, Mom....

So apparently, we're going to deck out his playroom like some disco, and all of his friends are going to come over and dance. Which actually sounds like fun, really. One of my big beefs with parties is greed—I don't like people feeling obligated to buy gifts, and I don't like it when kids get greedy about the gifts. But Theo hasn't mentioned a thing about gifts...or even cake. For him, it's apparently all about the dancing and music. I'm kinda charmed by that, so I might just give in and say yes. Maybe. But definitely not to 100 kids!

The Little Executive

While wearing mismatched pajamas and a Pull-Up, and with yogurt smeared on his face, Theo informed me of the following this morning:

Theo: I need to go upstairs for a meeting.
Me: What kind of meeting?
Theo (very seriously): It's for work, Mom. 
Me: I see. Who's going to be at this meeting?
Theo: Um, some people.
Me: And what's it about?
Theo: Well, we sit at a table for a long time, and we write things down and talk about things. It's pretty boring, Mom.
Me: I see. Well, can you have your meeting downstairs instead? Your brother is sleeping upstairs.
Theo: No, Mom. The meeting is upstairs.

This all sounded quite serious, but apparently he's not going to share any juicy details with me. All I know is that he apparently goes upstairs in his pajamas, smeared in his breakfast, and has important meetings. With people. About boring things.

Sounds pretty much like an executive workday, doesn't it? Aside from the attire, that is....

Lyrics a la Theo

Theo has inherited my stellar ability to mangle song lyrics. Such as this morning, when he was heartily singing along to the Beatles: "Could it be...could it be...could it be...could it be.... Whisper words of wisdom, could it be...."

Preschooler Logic

Let me walk you through a chain of Theo logic:

• Fact: He is not allowed to watch Pink videos, which Mama has deemed "inappwopwiate."
• Fact: He needs to be older to watch said Pink videos.
• Theo logic: Older is the same thing as bigger.
• Fact (according to Mama): He needs to eat and sleep to get bigger.

And thus, he came to this deduction, which I heard him muttering this morning: "I'm not allowed to watch inappwopwiate Pink videos. I need to eat a lot before I can do that."

Good Music

Theo loves music. "Loves" really probably isn't a strong enough word. Music is pretty much his life. And among his favorite singers is none other than...Neil Diamond. Don't ask me why. Nothing against Neil Diamond, but he's just not typically huge among the preschool set. But to Theo, he is. And so I wasn't surprised to hear this exchange between Theo and Tyler, his 19-year-old cousin:

Tyler: Theo, you like music?
Theo: Yes.
Tyler: I'm going to show you some good music. (As he types on his iPhone to find a good song...)
Theo: Okay. Do you know how to spell "Neil Diamond"?

Alas, Tyler had no Neil Diamond on his iPhone. Theo was quite sad....

Care and Feeding of Toilets

In the world of strange conversations with Theo, this ranks as one of the odder ones I've had:

Theo: Mom, can you eat water?
Me: Well, sort of. I guess you could say that....
Theo: Mom, potties eat poop. And they drink pee.

Well...sort of. I guess you could say that....

Foiled Again

One problem with disciplining Theo is that he's pretty darn good at using my words against me. I had a hard time coming up with a response this morning when we had this conversation:

Me: Theo, please go put that on the table.
Theo: Why?
Me: Because it's mine--it's not yours to be touching.
Theo: Okay, Mommy. My CD player is mine. It's not yours to be touching.

Well-played, Theo, well-played... About two weeks ago, I taped over the volume dial on his CD player because he kept turning it up too loud. This is apparently his way of letting me know not to do that again. :-)

Thank You for Smoking

Today we took Theo to the Lawrence Hall of Science, which he loved. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and we eventually had to leave and go to lunch. This did not please Theo, and he railed at us all the way to the car, demanding that he did not want to leave and that we were going to stay. We tuned him out and continued to walk to the car, knowing that there's no point in arguing with a four-year-old who is convinced that he makes all the rules. Better to just strap him in the car, wait until he settles down, and then address it.

But the funny thing about Theo is that his tantrums aren't often the screaming variety--more often, he just gets very angry and tells you in a very stern voice what he thinks about things. And so was the case today. As we walked back to the car, I tuned back into his fit when I heard the following:

Theo: And I am going to go to the restaurant and I am going to smoke in there!

We don't smoke, and there's only one person in our extended family who smokes, so I was a bit perplexed.

Me: Theo, what did you say?
Theo: I'm going to smoke in that restaurant!
Me: Um, no. I don't think you are.
Theo: Yes I am! I am going to go up to the alarm, and I am going to pull it, and I am going to smoke in that restaurant!

Aha! Mystery solved. He thinks the fire alarm creates smoke. And if there's smoke in the restaurant, we have to leave and, presumably, come back to the Lawrence Hall of Science instead. Which actually is a very clever plot, if you think about it. I'm not sure how my four-year-old knows enough to realize that if he pulls a smoke alarm, it will create a situation where he can leave a restaurant, but apparently he does. Even if his facts are a bit messed up. I, for one, am just happy he's not actually planning to take up smoking....

Let Me Help You With That

Very often, Theo talks like an adult or an old man. This may be an "autism spectrum" thing (they call it "professor-speak"), but it also may just be Theo. Whatever it is, it can be funny as heck--like last night, when Chris and Theo had the following conversation while Theo watched Chris trying unsuccessfully to peel the cellophane off a DVD case.

Theo (very politely, as if talking to a small child): Dad, is that kind of tricky for you?
Chris (trying not to laugh): Um, yes, a little. If you think you can do better, by all means do!
Theo (after watching for a couple more seconds): I can do it better.

And he reached out, took the DVD case from Chris, and calmly removed the cellophane. I had to laugh at the role reversal--Theo talking very patiently to Chris, as if he were a four-year-old!

Calling AARP

Randomly asked by Theo last night:

"Hey, Mom, when I'm five, can I retire?"

Ah, Theo...you've only just begun....

And Again, Apparently We're Dim...

I know teenagers think their parents don't know anything, but I wasn't really expecting that yet. I mean, he's only four. Then again, he's four going on forty, so...

Anyway, I couldn't help but smile at this exchange we had in the car:

Theo (in reference to the car's CD player): Mom, can you put on Disc 3 Song 14, please?
Me: Sure. That was good asking, Theo. (On the rare occasions that he remembers to say "please" without prompting, it's cause for praise! I began fiddling with the CD player to put on the song he wanted.)
Theo: Song 14, Mom!
Me: I know. Just a minute.
Theo: Fourteen, Mom. That's a one and a four. Fourteen.

Ah, just in case I didn't know what the number 14 looks like. Good of him to explain it for me...

Good Grooming

For whatever reason, Theo has suddenly taken an interest in facial grooming.

Theo: Mom, do you cut your eyebrows?
Me: I pluck them sometimes, but I don't cut them.
Theo: Can I pluck my eyebrows?
Me: Uh, no.
Theo: How old do I have to be to pluck my eyebrows?
Me: Boys don't usually pluck their eyebrows. It's usually something girls do more than boys.
Theo: Maybe when I'm 15 I can pluck my eyebrows...

I just keep picturing him like a Ziggy Stardust-groomed David Bowie or something....

Viewing Habits of Centenarians

Theo saw and liked a few episodes of Woody Woodpecker before I decided that I didn't want him watching it. (Woody is kind of bratty and aggressive, and I didn't really feel like having Theo imitate that behavior.) So today, we had this negotiation:

Theo: Mom, I like Woody Woody Woodpecker!
Me: I know...
Theo: Can I watch it, Mom?
Me: No. There are other things you can watch instead.
Theo: Why can't I watch Woody Woody Woodpecker?
Me: It's just not appropriate for your age.
Theo: Fine, Mom. When I'm 100, I will watch Woody Woody Woodpecker.

Watch out, Shady Acres Rest Home--Theo will be commandeering the TV to watch Woody Woodpecker all day!

Bathroom Hazards

Ah, the joy of boys... If the necessity to share a bathroom stall with one arises, you get to field questions like, "Hey, Mom, do you have a big bottom because you make big poop?"

Etiquette According to Theo

Theo's in a rather bossy, "I want to be in charge" phase at the moment. Which is often annoying but sometimes amusing. Yesterday, it was amusing (well, at least partly) when our conversation took this turn:

Me: Theo, are you finished with lunch?
Theo: Yes.
Me: Okay, then you can clear your plates. But I'll take this last piece of orange...
Theo (snottily): No! I want it!
Me (not relenting simply because he was snotty in the way he talked to me): You said you were finished, so I'm going to eat this last one.
Theo (lunging at me and knocking the orange out of my hand as he tried to grab it): No! It's MINE!
Me (shooting him "the look"): I'm eating the last piece of orange. You do NOT talk to me that way. You use a calm voice. Now, take a deep breath and calm down, or you'll need to go spend five minutes in your room.
Theo (taking a deep breath and lowering his voice to a reasonable level): Mommy, you do NOT take the last piece of the orange. It is not polite AT ALL! You need to go on a timeout right now!

I had to stifle a laugh. Because really, it's not terribly polite to take food from someone's plate. ;-)

I Have Them on Speed-Dial

Theo is a big fan of the Black Eyed Peas. The other day, he wanted to know what they were doing. In typical Theo fashion, a simple "I don't know" wasn't enough. So we had this chat:

Theo: Mom, what are the Black Eyed Peas doing?
Me: Right now?
Theo: Yes.
Me: I have no idea.
Theo: Could you check?
Me: Um, not really. Maybe they're recording an album.
Theo: I fink they're doing a concert, Mom.
Me: At 10 a.m.? Maybe, I guess...it's a little early in the day for that.
Theo: Could you call them, Mom? Could you find out?

Because clearly I'd have the Black Eyed Peas' phone number. In fact, they're on speed-dial.... (When I told him I didn't have their number, he picked up his iPod Touch--a repurposed, deactivated iPhone--and called them. And apparently they confirmed that they are indeed recording an album as we speak. Or so says Theo.)

Lessons from the Fab Four

On the way up to Sacramento today, Theo was talking my ear off in the car--a zillion questions! This one particularly amused me:

Theo: Mom, can we go on a submarine?
Me: Someday, sure...
Theo: Mom, a submarine is like a boat, you know. It goes in the ocean. You can look through the periscope and see things.
Me: You're right! Where did you learn about submarines, anyway? Preschool?
Theo: No, Mom. From the Beatles!

Oh, that submarine...

The Change

Today, my Mom got to field Theo's 1,001 questions about anything and everything. My favorite? "Grandma, did you used to be a man?"

I'm still snickering over that one. :-)

A New Tactic

Theo likes to stir up trouble at the lunch table at school. Often he uses potty talk to do so, but sometimes he finds other ways to try to incite a riot among his peers. Today, he came home from school with a nearly full lunchbox, and I knew he must've been stirring up trouble and lost his lunch privileges. So we had a chat:

Me: Theo, why didn't you eat your lunch?
Theo: I was all done.
Me: Oh, you weren't hungry?
Theo: No, Miss Jessica said I was all done.
Me: Why did she say you were all done?
Theo: Because I wasn't behaving at the lunch table.
Me: I see. And what were you doing?
Theo: I was stomping my feet.
Me: Didn't Teacher Amanda tell you to use quiet legs, quiet body at the lunch table?
Theo: Yes.
Me: So why were you stomping your feet?
Theo: Because I wanted my friends to stomp their feet. I was doing a lesson for them.

Ah, I see. Foot-stomping has been a problem in the past, so I know full well that Teacher Amanda has specifically told Theo not to stomp his feet at lunch...and I know that he knows not to do it. Last week, he attempting to blame lunchtime foot-stomping on an imaginary friend. I see that this week he has moved on to the "I'll pretend I'm the teacher so I'm above the law" strategy. Well-played, Theo, well-played... Alas, Miss Jessica enforced the law anyway, so he came home a hungry little boy.

Appropriate Viewing

The most amusing question I've had all day:

Theo: Mom, can I watch a pecker show?

After I finished laughing, I made a mental note to make sure he refers to this in the future as "a Woody Woodpecker show," lest we find ourselves in an embarrassing situation where he tells his preschool teacher that his mom lets him watch "pecker shows."

Delinquent in Training

Sometimes I think my kid is practicing to be a juvenile delinquent. He just loves stirring up trouble at school. First it was stomping his feet at the lunch table to get everyone else to do it, too. When he got corrected for that, he invented an imaginary friend to be the stomping ringleader. (Clever, clever...) Lately, though, he's turned to another method of riling up his friends at lunchtime: potty talk. Today I got a note sent home saying that he hadn't been allowed to finish his lunch because he persisted in doing potty talk at lunch--specifically, he asked another child if he'd like to go to the "poop store." (I snicker even typing that! And I wonder where he gets his sense of humor from...)

Anyway, even though I'm secretly amused by the idea of a "poop store," I know I can't encourage Theo to keep being disruptive, so I talked to him about the issue. It went like this:

Me: Theo, I heard you got in a bit of trouble at lunch. Teacher Amanda said you were using potty words at lunch.
Theo: Yes. [He always says yes. And always very seriously. It's kinda funny.]
Me: You know it's not appropriate to say those words anywhere that's not the bathroom.
Theo: Yes.
Me: That means you don't say peepee, poopoo, bottom, or penis at the lunch table.
Theo: What about butt? You forgot about butt, Mom. [Because he always likes to get the last word!!]
Me: That's right. No butt, either. Do you understand?
Theo: Yes.
Me: Why do you say those words at lunch when you know you're not supposed to?
Theo: Because I like to say those words. They're nice words!
Me: Not really! And they get you in trouble. Do you like to get in trouble?
Theo: No. Nikolas likes to get in trouble!

Ah, a final attempt to weasel out of trouble! Shift the focus to your cousin, Nikolas! Clever, clever. Except that I happen to know full well that Nikolas actually doesn't particularly like to get in trouble. Theo, on the other hand...well, he likes to stir the pot. :-)

The Power of Persuasion

For the most part, we encourage healthy eating in our house. And Theo is a great eater--loves his fruits and veggies! Because of that, we have no problem with allowing him the occasional "junk food" treat--everything in moderation, you know?

One of his favorite treats is a trip to McDonald's. He likes to "take" Grandma Diane there when we visit her, and every so often he and Chris will have a father/son breakfast date to McDonald's or Burger King.

So today, as I drove him home from occupational therapy, he apparently decided that he'd like to go for a fast-food treat.

Theo: Mommy, I know! How about we stop and get me something for dinner?
Me: Um...we have food at home.
Theo (undeterred): How about we go to McDonald's?!
Me: Not today, buddy. I'll make you dinner when we get home.
Theo: But Mommy, wouldn't you like some ice cream at McDonald's?

Ooooh, clever trick, my son! And it might've worked...if only our McDonald's wasn't closed for construction right now. Because I have to admit, a McDonald's hot-fudge sundae is indeed a tasty treat!

Smart Aleck

My son is a smart aleck at age 4 1/2. I couldn't help snickering when I heard the following exchange. Chris was trying to correct Theo for messing with the blinds in the kitchen (something that he's been told many times not to do--they're already broken, and we don't want them further broken).

Chris: Theo, do not touch the blinds. You know not to touch those. If you touch them again, you get a five-minute timeout.
Theo: [Silence]
Chris: Did you hear me?
Theo: Yes.
Chris: What did I say? [It's sometimes crucial to have Theo repeat what you've said, because things often go in one ear and out the other.]
Theo: You said, 'Blah biddy blah blah...'

Well, that's what he heard, anyway....

Cure for the Common Sore Throat

Theo is nothing if not inventive. Today, he was scheming for a tasty treat. I heard this from the back of the car:

Theo (creating a "conversation" between himself and me): "Oh, my froat [throat] pinches!" [and then in an imitation of my voice] "Oh, really, Theo? Okay, let's go home and get you some sorbet to make your throat feel better!"
Me [laughing]: You are a scam artist, my friend! Nice try...
Theo: Mommy, my froat hurts!
Me: Really? Well, if your throat hurts, you probably shouldn't go to preschool today....
Theo: It doesn't hurt, Mommy. Not too much. It just needs to be a yittle bit stronger.
Me: So what would make it stronger?
Theo: Maybe some black-eyed peas...
Me: Oh--black-eyed peas make a sore throat better?
Theo: Yes. Or maybe a popsicle.... I know, Mommy--we will just drive home and get a popsicle!

Nice try, my little friend...nice try....

Best Offer I've Had All Day

Upon walking in the house after a lovely solo stroll, I was greeted with, "Mom! I'm pooping! Would you like to come enjoy this fabulous poo poo?"

I would like nothing more.... ;-)

What Pirates Do

Sometimes I don't know where Theo comes up with his ideas. They really just materialize out of thin air. Like this one:

Theo: Mom, do pirates search for buried treasure?
Me: Yes, I suppose they do.
Theo: And Mom, do pirates put things in the garbage can?
Me: Um...probably???

I'm still wondering where that came from....

GOAL!!!!

Theo has recently joined a tot-soccer team. They do little pre-soccer skills and such. I think Theo's favorite part is the running. Yesterday, the coach instructed all the kiddos to run to the blue flag. And so you saw a pack of 15 preschoolers running to the blue flag...and one lone preschooler running the other direction across the field. I don't think I need to tell you which preschooler was the lone wolf!

So an assistant coach jogged up to him and said, "Hey, Theo, you're supposed to be running to the blue flag!"

Theo's reply? "I am running to the blue flag!"...as he pointed to another blue flag located on a different soccer field.

That's my boy! Always headed toward the goal, but always doing it his way. :-)

Scam Artist

Theo is a consummate scam artist. Yesterday, his skills were on full display at CuriOdyssey (a small zoo/science museum). I was sitting on a shady bench with Sam, who was napping in the stroller. Theo had been off exploring with Chris and came running up to me. I picked him up and asked what he'd been doing, and we had the following conversation:

Theo: Mommy, how are you feeling?
Me: I'm feeling just fine, Theo. How are you?
Theo (in a weak-sounding voice): I'm feeling a little bit sick.
Me (suspicious, given that he had been running around happily all day...but still wanting to show the appropriate concern): You're sick? How?
Theo (weakly): My froat [throat]. Look at it.
Me: Your throat hurts? [Peering in his mouth, I see nothing amiss.]
Theo (still weakly): Yes. My froat hurts. I'm sick.
Me: I'm sorry you don't feel well....
Theo (and still weakly): I fink maybe a popsicle would help me feel better....

Aha! The real motive surfaces! I laughed, put him down, and said, "Nice try!"...and he ran off happy as ever. Funny how quickly that "sore throat" cleared up!

Elevators

From Theo, who knows about such things:

"There are five kinds of elevators. There are elevators and escalators. And there are glass elevators. And there are wheelchair elevators [wheelchair lifts]. And there are pink elevators."

Hmmm. I was following him right up until the end....

The Face of a Thief

Okay, the smallest peanut doesn't talk yet, but if he could talk, this face would say, "Hahahahaha! I rolled myself over several times to successfully steal my big brother's prized Leapster!!"

To Each His Own...

Theo takes a really long time to wash his hands. And sometimes when a girl's gotta go, a girl's gotta go. So while he was washing his hands today, I walked into the bathroom and sat down to use the toilet. And we had this chat:

Theo: Ooooh, peepee! Mommy, I'm really enjoying your peepee!
Me: Um...thanks??
Theo: And I will enjoy your poopoo, too!

For the record, there was no poop for him to enjoy. Much to his chagrin...

Geriatric Vocabulary

Theo has been throwing out the word "butt" whenever possible lately, largely because he knows he's not supposed to say it. And so, this morning, as we got in the car, I got this question:

Theo: Mommy, can people say "butt" when they're 91?

Um, yes...I suppose they can. And isn't that a reason why we should all aspire to live to age 91?!

Preschool Curriculum

One of my Mom's biggest gripes about me is that when I was a kid, every day she'd ask me how school was, and every day I'd flatly reply, "Boring." She'd get frustrated and say, "Can't you ever say anything else about it?" and I'd reply, "Well, it is boring."

Theo has yet to tell me that school is boring when I ask him about it. Instead, we get exchanges like this one today:

Me: Theo, how was preschool?
Theo: It was good.
Me: What did you do at preschool today?
Theo: Talked about peepee and poopoo.

Sigh...somehow I bet that was not part of the planned curriculum.

Letter of the Law

Theo is a master of following the letter of the law...which makes setting rules somewhat exhausting. Most recently, this involved his current song obsession, "Baby Got Back." As I wrote in my previous post, I won't let him listen to that song because I don't want him repeating the lyrics, which really are pretty awful. (I'm no prude, but let's face it: The song totally objectifies women! I'm somewhat aghast that I even have the song...but it's catchy and a bit of a nostalgia trip from my younger days.)

Anyhoo...yesterday Theo found the CD, started to play it, and immediately started repeating the lyrics. So I confiscated it. Alas, that was not to be the end of it. This morning at breakfast, he piped up with a variation on the first line: "Oh...my...God, Becky. Look at all these butts!" (The actual line is "Look at her butt," and I have to admit that "Look at all these butts!" made me almost burst out laughing! Butts everywhere!! Yeah, we know where he gets his sense of humor from, don't we?!)

I quickly recovered and said sternly, "Theo, you know that's not appropriate. Do not say it again."

And Mr. Letter-of-the-Law replied, "Oh...my...God, Sammy. Look at her eyes!" I shot him a look, and he said, "I could say that, Mama! That's very appropriate!"

I thought for a moment and decided that he was pushing it (purposely!) and that I wanted to win this battle. So I replied, "It's not appropriate to say 'Oh my God,' either, Theo. Don't say that, either."

And so Mr. Smartass replied, "Oh...my...gosh, Sammy! Look at her butt! It's all wibbly-wubbly!"

Sigh...yes, I managed not to laugh at the "wibbly-wubbly" comment. Even though I was secretly chuckling inside, because let's face it--lots of butts are wibbly-wubbly, including my own! And the song doesn't say that, so I was kind of amused that he put his own spin on it. I'll never admit that to him, though. Instead, I'll spend my time trying to de-program "Baby Got Back" from his brain. So he can find another topic on which to outsmart me.

He Likes Big Butts and He Cannot Lie...

If you were born in the 1970s or early 1980s, chances are you've heard a little song by Sir Mix-a-Lot called "Baby Got Back." It's horrible and degrading...and terribly catchy. Admit it--if you grew up with you, you secretly love it! But it's not a kid-friendly song—the lyrics aren't something you really want your kid repeating at preschool...or church...or pretty much anywhere.

Like many other people in my age group, I have this song on my iPod. And in the time before iPods, I had it on a CD. And one day, I gave Theo a bunch of my old mix CDs. And what did he gravitate to? You guessed it--"Baby Got Back." When I heard him singing, "I like big BUTTS and I cannot lie..." I immediately confiscated the CD and put it away in a drawer.

Fast-forward six months. Theo found a bunch of CDs in a drawer and said, "Can I listen to this one?" I said yes, not thinking anything of it. And the little booger remembered exactly which track number "Baby Got Back" is!

I was nursing Sam when I heard the opening bars and Theo repeating the first line: "Oh...my...God, Becky, look at her butt! It's so big!" I immediately yelled into the next room, "Theo, not appropriate! Turn off that CD!"

His response? An innocent, "Oh, Mommy, I was just looking for Track 2. I can listen to Track 2 on this CD!"

Uh huh...that's why he "accidentally" played it several more times before I was able to get up and confiscate it. And why he's been walking around going, "Oh...my...God, Becky, look at her butt!" all evening.

He couldn't have found the Mozart CD, could he? It had to be Sir Mix-a-Lot....

Why You Should Never Make an Instructional Video with a Four-Year-Old in the Room

In honor of Down Syndrome Awareness month, I've been posting a tidbit about DS each day on Facebook. Today, I posted about speech, feeding, and oral placement therapy. I have several Facebook friends who I've never met--we've become friends through the Down syndrome community. One of them has a daughter just a bit younger than Sam, and she is having trouble getting her daughter to eat solids. So we talked back and forth, and I told her I'd send her a video of a feeding technique that our speech-language pathologist taught me.

Now, I've never met this woman, so I don't know how humorous (or not!) she finds "potty talk." Thus I will NOT be sending her my first attempt at the feeding-instruction video. Listen closely near the end to hear Theo's nonchalant announcement. Oh, Theo...never a dull moment!

My Son the Chauvinist

I don't know who's teaching my son to be a chauvinist, but someone is! First there was this exchange about women's work. And today we had this conversation:

Theo: Mommy, does Daddy read the Sports section at breakfast?
Me: What do you think? [Theo has a tendency to ask questions he knows the answers to, so we now either have him answer the question or we help him rephrase it into a statement.]
Theo: Yes!
Me: I think you're right. And what do you do at breakfast?
Theo: I read the paper. I read the Sports section.
Me (snickering at my four-going-on-forty child): Yes...yes you do.
Theo: And Mommy reads about the weddings!

Um, what? I've never once read the Wedding section in front of him! In fact, I don't think our paper even has a wedding section! And I'm not particularly fond of weddings, so even if it did, it wouldn't be a section I'd read! Not sure where he gets the idea that he and Daddy read sports while I read about weddings, but...

Though in his defense, he's at least right that I don't read the Sports section. I read the Food section. Which is far less girly than the Wedding section. ;-)

Well, If You REALLY Want It...

Theo wants to share everything that is Sam's. Everything. This isn't unusual among siblings, I'm sure, but it was particularly amusing today, when we had the following discussion in the car:

Theo: Mom, what did you get at Target?
Me: Bubble bath, hand soap, some prune juice for Sam.
Theo: I want to share Sammy's prune juice! I would like to have some!
Me (laughing): No, I don't think you need prune juice.
Theo: Why not? I want some!
Me: Because people drink prune juice when they can't poop. You poop quite regularly.
Theo: If I don't poop, then I can have prune juice!!

I suppose. If he only knew that most normal people don't clamor for prune juice. Yet another reason why he'd fit in very well at that "old-person daycare" he aspires to go to.

At Least He's Honest

Heard the following last night while I was working, having handed off a feisty Theo to Chris for a couple of hours:

Chris: Theo, why are you acting up tonight?
Theo: Because I like to act up!

At least he's honest....

The Littlest Peanut Speaks...FOR REAL!

Well, sort of. He makes a small cooing sound. That counts, right?!

Nothing Says Love Like the Dollar Tree

Following up on my previous post about Theo picking out some birthday presents for my Mom at the Dollar Tree... We went to my sister's house on Wednesday to meet up with her and our Mom for lunch, and Theo gave my Mom her gift bag and announced, "Yeah, I got this at the Dollar Place."

Note to self: Must school young Theo on the fact that you don't tell someone just how cheap their present was. Reminds me of the first time Chris bought me a dozen roses. He presented them to me and proudly announced, "They were on sale!"

Four-Year-Olds Know Everything

The age of four is a challenging one. It's fun because kiddos come up with crazy, creative, funny things to talk about! And it's exhausting because they're convinced they know everything. As demonstrated in this comment by Theo, when he wanted to look at a music box that my sister bought for my Mom's birthday:

Theo: Grandma, I want to see that. Here, let me show you exactly how it works.

One-Track Mind

Theo loves the school bus pretty much more than life. On the rare occasions that the bus hasn't come and I've had to take him to school, he is all out of sorts. Today, I have to pick him up from school because he has a dentist appointment. As you might imagine, this news didn't go over well. We had the following conversation in the car:

Theo (whining loudly): I don't want you to pick me up from school! I want to ride the bus! Why can't I ride the bus?
Me (rather exasperated from already having explained this half a dozen times): You have a dentist appointment. The bus won't get you home in time. You can ride the bus home again on Monday, but not today.
Theo (whining even more): But I want to ride my bus! I don't want you to pick me up! I don't like you to pick me up! I want to ride the bus instead!
Me: Theo, I'm picking you up. And I'm not talking about this anymore.
Theo: No! Ride the bus or nothing! Ride the bus or nothing, Mom! Those are my choices! I'm riding the bus or nothing! I am making the decision, Mom!
Me: Well, it's not your decision to make. Let's talk about something else....
Theo: I am going to ride the bus, Mom!
Me (forcing a cheerful tone): So what are you going to do at preschool today?
Theo: I am going to bring a toy for Share Day, and then I am going to get on Bus #102 and I am going to ride my bus home!

Sigh...I asked for that one, didn't I?

The Littlest Peanut Speaks

Well, okay, the littlest peanut didn't really speak, but his actions spoke volumes!

We started Sam on solid foods last week. Well, let me rephrase that--we started our fourth attempt at solids last week. The first three attempts didn't go so well. He loved them, but they didn't love him. I think his digestive system just wasn't ready for them yet.

But last week seemed to go reasonably well. Sam loved the food we tried (sweet potatoes) and didn't seem overly fussy after eating them (as he did after eating both peaches and rice cereal). So far so good...except that he got rather constipated. In a way, this is a good thing--his acid-reflux medicine gives him diarrhea, so it was actually good to have him bulk up a bit, so to speak. But he went three days with only one small poop, and by midway through the second day, he was pretty fussy. And we were thinking, "Just poop and be done with it, man!"

So on the third day, Sam fussed most of the day. Didn't nap well and just mildly fussed and fussed and fussed all day long. So I didn't get any work done, and when he got home from work, Chris took the boys to the hardware store to give me some quiet work time.

Do you see where I'm going with this? Sam finally pooped on the way to the hardware store. And Chris, knowing he would only be in there a few minutes, debated just saving the diaper change for home. But then he thought, "No, I'll be nice to Cathleen and just get it over with." Because he's a nice guy. Unfortunately, now I pretty much owe him for life! You see, young Sam had a Stage 4 Diaper Blowout of epic proportions. Poop...everywhere.... Here is how it went down, as Chris related it to me:

Upon lifting Sam out of the car seat, he realized the epic proportions of the Great Poop Explosion of 2012. Sam was wearing a cloth diaper, and his legs are so skinny that they don't really fill out the leg holes, so there's gapping. (I'd love to keep him in disposables until his legs finally fill out the cloth diapers, but we're on a budget, so we deal with the gapping....) And so, the poop (a lovely shade of sweet-potato orange!) was all down both of his legs, all up his back, and all over the car seat. Chris hurried to the men's room in the hardware store and set about cleaning up the disaster. Sam, who had been sitting placidly in his mess, decided he did not want to be changed, and he started screaming like crazy. Theo, meanwhile, thought the men's room was a fun place to explore and was turning the light on and off, turning the faucet on and off, and pulling paper towels out of the dispenser to "help" Chris. Chris went through half a pack of wipies (all that were left in my diaper bag) and a bunch of paper towels to clean up all the poop. Sam's pants went into the trash, deemed unsalvageable. His poop-soaked onesie and diaper went in a plastic bag to bring home for me to wash. And after spending 15 minutes changing Sam, redressing him in a new outfit, and attempting to manage Theo in the bathroom, Chris emerged from the men's room to a joking comment of, "What were you doing to that baby, beating him?" from a bystander. He laughed, mentioned the diaper blowout, and headed straight over to the cleaning section, where he bought a $5 pack of shop rags, which he used to line the pooped-on car seat for Sam's ride home.

And so they returned home, battle-weary and without the plants that Chris had set out to buy. But Sam pooped, so life is good!

Gifts

Now that Theo is almost 4 1/2, I decided it would be fun to start letting him pick out birthday gifts for people. My Mom's birthday is today, so yesterday I took the boys to the Dollar Tree, gave Theo $4 to put in his pocket, and told him that $4 would allow him to choose one card and three gifts for Grandma Diane. (I'm not really horribly cheap--we bought her better gifts, too! I just wanted to take him someplace where he could choose whatever he wanted, and I wouldn't have to say, "Oh, no--you don't have enough money for that!" Soon enough he can learn about how far money goes at various places, but for now, I wanted someplace where he would be able to choose several small things. Besides, the stuff at the Dollar Tree is so ridiculous sometimes that I thought it would be fun to see what awful things he found!)

Upon getting his $4 and being told that we were going to go pick out presents for Grandma Diane, he announced, "I will put this in my piggy bank!" I laughed and told him the idea was to get something for Grandma, not to save the money for himself. So he thought for a moment and said, "I will let her go to a hotel! Can she stay in a hotel for $4??" Um...not the kind of hotel she'd want to stay in, methinks!! Staying in a hotel is Theo's very favorite treat in the world, so I thought it was cute that he thought Grandma would surely love that, too!

Theo took his task very seriously. He carried a basket around and very carefully examined many items to determine what Grandma Diane would like best. (To my surprise, he actually put each item back after examining it! We don't generally let him touch things in stores, and if it's a store where he can touch things, such as the children's consignment store, we usually have to hound him quite a bit about putting an item back before getting another one off the shelf.)

I was sort of hoping he'd select the giant flyswatter that was nearly as big as him (see what I mean about weird stuff at the Dollar Tree?!), but he merely made two of them into "wings" to show me how he could fly, and then put them back on the rack.

I didn't offer a word of help on this--I wanted to see what he thought Grandma Diane would like, so I just stood back and watched. What did he end up with? A tacky foam pumpkin, a Halloween banner that says "Be Very Afraid!" and has a skull on it, and a Lightning McQueen (from Cars) velvet wall poster that she can color. Oh, and a card with a kitty on it. When he was finished choosing his items, he said very sweetly, "Do they have food here?" I told him they did, and he said, "Can we get Gwamma Diane some food, too?" I agreed that we could spend one more dollar and pick out one food item for her, so he selected a bag of cookies with neon yellow and pink icing, because "Gwamma Diane yuvs cookies!"

Then he dragged his heavy basket up to the register and paid. He was a little disappointed not to get any change back, but overall he was just proud as a peacock of his purchases. And I was proud as a peacock of him!

Lofty Aspirations

Yesterday, we took a family trip to the dump. For exactly the reason you'd assume: We had a bunch of old stuff to...well, dump. And Chris could've gone on his own, but Sam needed a nap (and naps well in the car), and I figured Theo would get a kick out of the dump.

That's an understatement. Theo loved the dump. When he saw the excavator moving piles of trash from one area to another, he exclaimed, "Mom! How old do I have to be to work at the dump?!"

Sam looked unimpressed. I think he aspires to loftier pursuits. :-)

It Happens to the Best of Us

Theo, solemnly, to me: "Mom, I'm getting old."

Yeah, one day you're four, and the next day you're playing canasta in the retirement home....

Well, Yes, That IS a Good Indicator

On Sunday morning, Theo came strolling into the den after he woke up. I was in there working on the computer, and he picked up a little stress-squeeze toy that was sitting on my desk. It's a little Sumo wrestler--Chris got it for me as a little joke one Christmas.

Theo examined the squeezy Sumo guy and commented, "Mom, this is a man. He has hair and arms and legs and a penis. That's a pretty good clue."

Um, yes. That last one is a pretty good clue. Though for the record, he's wearing a mawashi (Sumo loincloth), and he appears to be gender-neutral--no penises on display! I think Theo just wanted an excuse to throw in his current favorite word!

Don't Mess with Texas!

Theo has a paper map of the United States that my aunt and uncle sent to him, and he LOVES it. He likes to look at all the states and talk about who lives where and where we've visited. The only problem with this map is that, like any paper map, it's well worn at the creases, and it tends to tear in places. So this morning, Theo solemnly announced to me that the map had a new rip, saying, "Mom, I just need to stop ripping Texas."

I couldn't help but think of the old "Don't mess with Texas!" saying, and Theo couldn't figure out why I was snickering!

Of Course...

Theo came out of the womb wanting to rule the world. So the following conversation shouldn't have surprised me in the least:

Me: Theo, you need to go put your shoes on now.
Theo (in that dramatic whine that four-year-olds are so good at): Why?
Me (exasperated after a day of arguing over every little thing): Because I'm the mommy, and I make the rules.
Theo: What number do I have to be (a.k.a. how old do I have to be) to make the rules?

Theo will not accept vague answers, such as, "When you're living on your own someday" or "When you're a parent," so I told him 30. That gives us 26 more years until he starts his attempt to take over the world. :-)

Well, Yes...That's Good Behavior

I took the boys to Target the other day, against my better judgment. Neither of my boys likes to shop. Sam tends to fuss and cry throughout the store, and Theo resists holding my hand (but then gets distracted by every display and dawdles like crazy as we try to make it through the store) and whines about everything. Nevertheless, I needed a couple of things at Target, so off we went. Theo was acting up in the car, and despite his distaste for shopping, I also knew he was bored and wanted the distraction of going in the store. So we had this chat:

Me: Theo, you're acting up right now. Knock it off, or we're not going in the store.
Silence, as he ignores me. 
Me: Theo, are you listening? I will not take you in the store if you misbehave. Do you understand?
Theo: Yes...
Me (knowing that Theo needs very explicit instructions for things): So you need to use good behavior in the store. Do you know what good behavior is?
Theo: Yes. No fussing and no pulling down your pants.

I was a bit taken aback, as I hadn't expected "pulling down your pants" to be part of the response. I was thinking more of "hold Mommy's hand and no fussing." Then it dawned on me: The last time Chris took the boys to Target, he turned around to tend to fussy Sam for a moment, and when he turned back around, Theo was standing in the checkout line with his pants down! Chris said, "Theo, what are you doing?!" and Theo calmly replied, "I need to go potty." And a discussion of when it's appropriate to pull down your pants ensued.
So for future reference, good behavior equals no whining and no pulling down your pants in the checkout line!

The Professor Speaks

Theo very often sounds like a little old man when he talks. Supposedly that's a sign of Asperger's syndrome, and since Theo is supposedly on the autism spectrum...well, maybe that explains it. Or maybe it's just Theo and has nothing to do with autism or Asperger's. Either way, it's one of the traits that I found most amusing and endearing about him. A little, cherubic four-year-old with big, guileless eyes spouting professor-speak is pretty entertaining. Last night, while on a walk, we had this conversation:

Theo: Are there rabbits in the bushes, Mom?
Me: There might be.
Theo: Can I hug them?
Me: Probably not. Some rabbits are wild, and you can't hug those. You can only hug a rabbit that's someone's pet.
Theo: Will the rabbit shake the bushes when he comes out?
Me: He might.
Theo: I need to go home and check my paperwork about this.
Me: You have paperwork about rabbits in bushes?
Theo: Yeah, Mom. My papers. And my books. I need to look this up in my books at home.

I was really curious to see what books he planned to consult about the subject, but alas, he had forgotten about it by the time we got home....

The Allure of the Sewer

I usually enjoy Theo's obsessions. For a while it was plants, which I enjoy. Then music, which I also enjoy. Lately it's numbers, which are also reasonably interesting. But his newest obsession befuddles me: sewers. I cannot tell you how many times a day he asks about sewers, and how much time he spends talking about them. Something like this occurs multiple times every day:

Theo: Mommy, what's that?
Me: Theo, you know what that is.
Theo: A sewer!!
Me: Yup.
Theo: What's in the sewer, Mommy?
Me: I don't know. Why don't you tell me?
Theo: Um...some sticks and leaves. And pee and poop. And scary mans!
Me: Okay... [praying that the sewer discussion is over]
Theo: What number do I have to be [a.k.a. how old do I have to be] to go in the sewer?
Me (knowing that a vague answer will never fly with Theo): Twenty-two.
Theo: When I am 22, I will go in the sewer!

This is all fine and good, but now he's telling random people that when he's 22, he's going to go in the sewer. And so I have to explain that his current life goal is to work in the sewer. (He claims he's going to "plunge lots of stuff!" in there.) Alternatively, he's going to go to school to work for PG&E with "electricidity." Ah well, either one probably pays well, so go to it, my boy! But you can have your own bathroom and shower if you choose to work in the sewer....

Grandma Looks Good for Her Age!

Theo's obsession with numbers continues. One thing he often wants to know is how old people are. He keeps asking me how old I'll be on my next birthday, despite the fact that he knows the answer. (Gee, thanks for reminding me that I'll be 39, kiddo!) One morning I said, "Theo, you know how old I'll be! Why do you keep asking?"
He replied, "Thirty-nine, Mommy. How old with Grandma Kathy be on her next birthday?"
I said, "I'm not sure. You should ask Daddy when he comes home."
Theo assuredly replied, "Thirty-nine. Or maybe 40 or 41. Or 100."
Wow...that's quite a range. And I'm pretty sure none of them is the answer--especially not 100!

My Hair Is Like a...Cello Bow??

One of Theo's favorite instruments to play in music class is the cello (sized down for small hands!). His teacher, Jon, tries to show the kids that they should not touch the hair on the cello bow by showing them a bow with frayed, ratty horse hair that has been touched by one too many students. He lets the kids touch the ratty old bow and then tells them not to touch the smooth, pristine hair on the new bow. (Not the greatest idea to tell a bunch of preschoolers what not to touch, as it just makes it all the more interesting to them, but I digress...)
The other night, I was leaning over Theo as he laid in bed, reading him a book. He reached up very gently and touched a lock of my hair that was falling out of my ponytail and said reverently, "Horse hair...."
Gee, thanks!

It Has Come Back to Haunt Me

There's a parenting strategy that says you should give your child two choices, so they feel as if they have some control over their environment. For example, instead of saying, "You're having waffles for breakfast," you might say, "Would you like waffles or French toast today?" Any more than two choices, and your child may get overwhelmed, says the strategy...any fewer, and your child may be frustrated that he has no say in his own life.
This strategy actually works pretty well for us, so it's one we've used for the past few years. However, it has now come back to bite me in the rear, as Theo has figured out that he ought to be able to use it! For example, the other night he wanted to go swimming, but it was getting late and he was kind of wild and uncooperative, so I didn't feel up to the pool. So I said, "No, I think we'll go swimming tomorrow instead. It's almost bedtime." His reply?
"I have two choices: I can go swimming tonight or I can watch a show on TV!"
Notice that bedtime was nowhere in either of his choices. :-)

Little Pitchers...

I was reminded today of that saying, "Little pitchers have big ears." Theo's new bike was on clearance, and I see now why--it's rather cheaply made. One of the pedals keeps falling off. I was griping about it under my breath, but clearly Theo heard me. A toddler in the park came up to admire Theo's new bike, and Theo said proudly, "This is a really cheap bike, isn't it?"

Beware the Pool

Recounted to me by Theo's preschool teacher:

Teacher Amanda: Theo, don't you want to go in the pool with the other kids?
Theo: No, somebody probably peed in it.

Indeed...

What Has He Been Reading?!

I had the following odd conversation with Theo the other day:

Theo: Mommy, do you put spice in the bed?
Me (wondering whether he's been reading Cosmo or something): What??
Theo: Do you put spice in the bed??
Me: No, I don't think I do.
Theo: Skippyjon Jones does. If you put spice in the bed, Mommy, you'll get a big, BIG time out!

Poor Chris. No spice in the bed for him. I don't want a big, BIG time out.

(For the record, Skippyjon Jones is a fictional Siamese cat in one of his books. Who apparently puts spice in the bed and gets in trouble for it!)

Theo's New Life Goal

Theo asks me all the time what number he needs to be to do various things--in other words, how old he needs to be. And he will not accept a vague answer. One of his favorites is, "What number do I have to be to make the rules?" (I told him 30--are we surprised that he wants to make the rules?!) Another one of his favorites is, "What number do I have to be to go to the stars (a.k.a. die)." We go with 100 for that one--might as well have him live to a very ripe old age. But his newest obsession, for whatever reason, is, "What number do I have to be to go in the sewer?"

I went with 22 on that one. If he aspires to be a sewer worker, more power to him. He'll have his very own shower if that's the case....

He's Not My Son

Yesterday, I was driving Theo to his OT appointment, and he asked me a question I've gotten a lot from him. But the conversation took an amusing turn:

Theo: Mommy, have you met Paulina?
Me: No, but I wish I had. What's Paulina like?
Theo: I like penises.
Me: What??
Theo: I like the peas. And Tico likes the carrots. And Mike liked the chicken.

Let me translate for you: He thought I asked what Paulina likes, rather than "what's Paulina like?" And Roxann and Mike made chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, and carrots when he was at their house for dinner on Friday...of which he apparently liked the peas (a.k.a. penises, apparently...). And this is why he's clearly not my son. Of this meal, the peas would be my least favorite. I can't possibly have created a child who likes peas....

Huh?

Have you ever had someone half asleep tell you something completely nonsensical? I'm told I once slept-walked out into the family room and started arguing with my family about them needing to give me quarters. And Theo often talks in his sleep, but we usually can't make out what he's saying. However, the other day he fell asleep after music class, and I couldn't rouse him to eat dinner. He had wet himself by then, so I needed to get his pants off and get him into a bedtime diaper. I managed to half-rouse him enough to do that, and he looked at me blearily, then narrowed his eyes and commanded, "DON'T say 'Oh my god,' Mommy! Just press the buttons on the remote and USE NICE WORDS today!"

I have no idea what that was about, but I thought it was funny that he was scolding me for taking the Lord's name in vain. I don't make a habit of that, but I'm sure I do say it on a somewhat regular basis. I had no idea Theo didn't think those were "nice words!"

Sibling Inequality

The reality of sibling inequality has set in, as evidenced by Theo's and my conversation this morning:

Me: Theo, if you're finished with your breakfast, you need to clear your plates.
Theo: Why do I need to clear my plates?
Me: Because that's your job.
Theo: Well, what's Sammy's job??
Me: Sammy needs to be able to walk before we start assigning him chores....

Poor Theo. That's going to be a while. :-)

Apparently It's Not a Fluke...

A while back, I posted about Theo correctly subtracting time. He had asked me what time it was (1:30) and what time we had to leave for swimming (1:50) and announced, "Set my timer for 20 minutes!" I was shocked...but wondering whether it was just a lucky guess. Apparently not...because today we had this conversation:

Theo: What time can I get off quiet time?
Me: 3:40. See, I wrote it on your paper.
Theo (looking at his clock, which showed a current time of 2:35): I have just five minutes!


Well, actually an hour and five minutes, but I'm still stunned that he once again correctly subtracted the minutes. What amazes me even more is that he did it instantly in his head--no counting on his fingers, and no hesitation. An adult can do that, of course...but he's four years old. Then again, he thinks he's an adult, so maybe that explains it? ;-) 

Daycare for the Elderly

Theo is dying to go to daycare. He thinks it's the ultimate in excitement, and he asks about it all the time. Today's conversation went like this:

Theo: I want to go to daycare!
Me: Mommy works at home, so you don't have to go to daycare.
Theo: When Mommy doesn't work, I can go to daycare!
Me: Well, not quite. If I don't work, I'm still at home...so you still don't go to daycare.
Theo: When Mommy is up in the stars [translation: DEAD!], I can go to daycare.
Me (snickering): Well, I'm hoping not to be up in the stars anytime soon.
Theo: When I am 91 years old, I can go to daycare!
Me (laughing more): It's not the same kind of daycare when you're 91....
Theo: What kind of daycare is it?
Me: Old-person daycare...
Theo: What do you do at old-person daycare?
Me: Um, drool a lot. (Yes, I realize that's a horrible joke, but I couldn't help it!)
Theo: Are there toys there?
Me: No, you don't play with toys when you're 91....
Theo: Then what do you do?
Me: Um, sit quietly and eat soft, mushy foods.

That stopped the questioning...for a while. He doesn't particularly care for soft, mushy foods, so perhaps I have taken away the allure of daycare?!

He Couldn't...Could He??

Theo's world is largely driven by two things: music and numbers. He loves all music, and he wants numbers assigned to everything: What time will we do X? How much longer will Y happen? What number is San Francisco? Or Seattle? Or Pittsburgh? What number [age] does he have to be do to A, B, or C? You get the idea....

Because he's obsessed with numbers but doesn't really understand time yet, we got him a timer that shows the time counting down by way of a red segment that gets smaller as the time left decreases. We've been using this timer a lot to help with transitions: "Theo, you can use the iPad until your timer is up, and then it's time to get ready for school." Or "Theo, you have until the timer is up to finish your breakfast." Again, you get the idea.

Today after school, we had this conversation:

Theo: Mom, what time is it?
Me: 1:30.
Theo: What time do we have to leave for my swim lesson?
Me: 1:50.
Theo: Mom, set my timer for 20 minutes!

It took me a second, and then...what?? Did he just correctly figure out the time until he had to leave for swimming? I think it may have just been a lucky guess...but then I think about Theo and his aptitude for numbers, and I wonder. Hmmm...

Women's Work

Yesterday, Theo and I had this conversation in the car:
Theo: Mommy, are you a girl?
Me: Yes, I am.
Theo: So do you vacuum?
Me (after briefly recoiling at the fact that my son apparently sees vacuuming as going hand in hand with being a "girl"): Yes. But so does Daddy. Boys and men can vacuum too, you know.
Oh dear. I must nip in the bud this notion of "women's work!"

It's a Living...

Theo is lately very interested in Chris's job. He wants to know exactly what Chris does, where he does it, why he does it, etc. I explain these things to him and then tell him that I work, too--because for whatever reason, it bugs me to think that in Theo's mind, Chris is the only one who works. (My own insecurity, I know...)
So yesterday, we had this discussion:
Theo: What are we going to do on Thursday?
Me: Well, you'll go to preschool, and Daddy and I will work.
Theo: What does Daddy work at?
Me: In South San Francisco. And Mommy works at home.
Theo: I work, too.
Me: Really? What do you do? What's your job?
Theo: I do dress-up and buy the food.
Aha! I see that his playing dress-up with his friends at school has evolved, and he now dresses up and does the shopping. I'd love to be a fly on the wall and see this....

Culinary Delights

Today, Sam had his first bite of real food: peaches! Although I knew Theo would enjoy "helping" to feed Sam, I decided to do it while he was in his room on Quiet Time, since the first time can be a bit tricky. When Theo came downstairs and saw the empty bowl with a baby spoon in it, he said, "What's that?!" I explained that Sammy had tried peaches, and Theo said, "Can I share some peaches with him?" I replied that he could the next time I fed Sam, and he then said, "Actually, can Sammy have some salami?"

Hmmm, I don't think heavily processed, cured meats are on the "Approved Baby's First Foods" list!

The Pitfalls of Pee

Theo has recently begun standing to pee (which is actually rather comical, since he tends to stretch his "parts" out like a piece of Silly Putty--ouch!). The other day, I was trying to shove a tuna sandwich down my throat quickly, while Sam wailed. (He's in a "hold me all the time, Mommy!" phase, but my back was killing me after a couple of weeks of this, so I put him down to eat my sandwich.) Theo chose that moment to have to go potty, and I heard this from the bathroom:

Theo: Mommy! I made a HUGE poop!
Me (around a mouthful of tuna): Terrific. Be sure to wipe yourself and then flush.
Theo: And actually, Mom, I peed all over my socks.
Me (snickering around said mouthful of tuna): Okay, that happens. Just take them off and leave them in the bathroom for me.

A few minutes later, I see Theo wandering around with his socks on.

Me: Theo, I told you to take off your socks and leave them in the bathroom for me!
Theo: Actually, I'm just wearing them wif pee, Mommy.

Of course...why not?!

Hit Man

I'm beginning to fear for my life. Theo desperately wants to go to daycare (because his lady love Paulina goes), and he has hatched a plan to bump off me and Chris so he can go. The discussion went something like this:

Theo: I want to go to daycare!
Me: You don't have to go to daycare--Mommy works at home so she can stay home with you.
Theo: When I don't have a mommy and daddy anymore, then I can go to daycare!
Me: You're always going to have a mommy and daddy....
Theo: When mommy and daddy go on vacation, then I can go to daycare!
Me: Well, usually you go with us on vacation....
Theo: When mommy and daddy are in the stars, then I can go to daycare!

"In the stars" is his description of what most people would call heaven--where people go when they die. We haven't wanted to get into discussions of religion with him, so it's been easiest to just tell him that deceased people and animals are "in the stars."

That said, if I find out he has taken out a large insurance policy on our heads, I'm going to be really worried.

Ruled by Logic

The thing that drives Chris most nuts about me is the fact that I'm logical to a fault. It seems that Theo has followed in my footsteps. Yesterday, we had this conversation when I noticed that he had colored the inside of our van with crayons.

Me: Theo, why did you color the inside of the van?!
Theo: Because I didn't have any paper.

Logical, yes? But here's the illogical kicker: He hates coloring and usually will only do it under duress! So why he suddenly felt compelled to color the inside of the van is beyond me! And don't ask me how he got crayons in the van--I have no idea. I suspect Chris, since I know I didn't give them to him!

He's in Good Company

Theo is certain he was present at Chris's and my wedding. And despite my grandmother's suspicions, he was not--he became a twinkle in our eyes about three weeks after the fact. But I don't care to explain conception and such to him in great detail at this point, so our recent conversation went like this:

Theo: Mommy and Daddy got married there [pointing to the lodge where we were married]!
Me: Yep!
Theo: And I was there, too!
Me: Nope, you weren't there.
Theo: Where was I?
Me: You weren't here with us yet.
Theo: But where was I?
Me: You hadn't been made yet. You remember how Sammy grew in my tummy for a long time? So did you--but you hadn't even started to grow in my tummy when we got married.
Theo: Well, where was I?
Me: Um...you were in the stars.
Theo: I was up in the stars with Johnny Cash!

Interesting. Who knew he was hanging out with the Man in Black while he waited to grace us with his presence?!

Someday It'll Be My Turn...

Following up on my previous post about Theo being stingy with his "I love you" when it comes to me...we had this conversation today.

Me (hugging Theo): I love you, buddy!
Theo: I love Sammy!
Me: Anyone else?
Theo: I love the dogs, too....

I'm trumped by two pugs. Nice. :-)

You like me! You really like me!

Remember the infamous Sally Field Oscar-acceptance speech where she said, "You like me!"? I felt that way the other day. Theo has only recently begun to verbally express love. He has shown it for a long time, but he never verbally said "I love you" until a couple of months ago, when he said it to Sam. (Side note: I think it's awesome that his first "I love you" went to his baby brother!) He continues to say it to Sam frequently. Shortly after he said it to Sam, he also said it to Chris. And then the dogs. But never me.

Now, I know that Theo loves me. In fact, second to Sam, he probably loves me more than anyone. I'm his mom, and I'm with him all of the time. But therein lies the problem: I'm his mom, and I'm with him all the time, so I'm the chief disciplinarian most of the time. And I have to devote a fair bit of attention to his baby brother. These things probably bug Theo, so he doesn't feel like telling me he loves me. And that's fine. Well, it's mostly fine. I let Theo think it's fine, and I know logically that it's fine...but a tiny piece of me would love to hear an "I love you" from him sometime...when he's ready.

The other day, we got close! He was sitting on my lap watching an episode of Blue's Clues when he turned around, put his arm around my neck, and said, "Mommy, I just...like you."

It's close. I'll take it. :-)

He Thinks We're Dim...

It's very apparent that Theo sometimes thinks Chris and I are idiots. Sometimes he thinks we hold the keys to the universe and can fix any problem, such as when his bus driver never arrived to pick him up for school, and he was certain that I could somehow remedy the situation and make his bus appear. (Alas, I could only remedy it by taking him to school myself, which didn't please him.) But other times, he thinks we're idiots. This was apparent the other night, when I overheard the following conversation between Theo and Chris:

Theo: Daddy, what did you pack?
Chris: In what?
Theo: Daddy, what did you pack?
Chris: What did I pack in what? I'm not sure what you mean, Theo.
Theo (speaking very slowly, with exaggerated enunciation and THE LOUD VOICE PEOPLE TEND TO USE WITH OTHERS WHO THEY DEEM NOT VERY BRIGHT): DADDY. WHAT. DID. YOU....PACK?

We never did figure out what he was talking about...which probably only furthered his assumption that we're idiots.

Body Language

For those who might not know this already, Theo struggles a bit with social behaviors--both reading people's social cues and knowing how to respond appropriately. (The school district calls it high-functioning autism, but who knows??) So, we're trying out various ways to help him learn how to read social cues and respond appropriately. One thing we're trying is an iPad app that came highly recommended. It's called "The Social Express," and it's an interactive program designed to help kids learn these skills. Theo likes to play with it, but I wasn't entirely sure it did much more than just amuse him. Apparently it does, as yesterday he announced from the back of the car:

"Mommy! Samuel is happy right now. His eyes are wide open, and his body is relaxed!"

He said this in the very same tone of voice as the narrator uses on the iPad app. I was glad to see he's actually taking something away from the app...and amused at his rather clinical diagnosis of Sam's state of mind!

Nice Try...

Theo is getting very eloquent in his arguments now. When I send him to his room, he used to just yell, "I want to get out!" in typical preschooler rage. But today, he tried a new tactic:

"Mommy! It's very important that I get off timeout!"

I was so amused that I asked him what was so important (thinking there was an off chance that maybe he really did have a good reason, like a bathroom emergency). Alas, he didn't have an answer, so he stayed on timeout. But I remained amused by his eloquent attempt to get out of his room!

Why Sam Is My Hero

Chris changed a lot of diapers when Theo was a baby. He and I split childcare duties about 50/50, since we were both working pretty much full-time. But now Chris has a (relatively) new job that requires a lot more time away from home, so I do about 90% of the childcare. This means that Chris has changed very few of Sam's diapers. So it was to my great amusement today when I heard an anguished, "SAM! You couldn't wait another five seconds?!" from the master bedroom, where Chris was changing Sam. It seems that Chris took the diaper off, and Sam chose that very moment to poop...all over the changing table and his outfit. And as Chris frantically searched for something to clean it up with, Sam pooped again.

Why did I laugh at my poor husband's fate? Because two nights ago, as I was finally attempting to have a lovely, peaceful bathroom experience (after both boys were asleep, of course, since I can't poop in peace when they're awake), I discovered A SPIDER CRAWLING DOWN MY ARM! Yes, as I was attempting to, as Kaiser calls it, "evacuate my bowels," A SPIDER CRAWLED DOWN MY ARM! Have I mentioned that I hate spiders? And when I shrieked that a spider was crawling on me, Chris, who was outside the door to the toilet brushing his teeth, started laughing. (And let me just say that Chris hates spiders as much as I do. He would not have been laughing if it was him!)

So I like to think that this was Sam's way of extracting revenge on my behalf. Payback's a b**ch, eh?!

Gun Control

Theo is learning all sorts of fun things at his new preschool, such as how to stand up and pee. He's also coming home with some fun comments, such as the one he came up with out of the blue yesterday:

Theo: Mommy, teachers don't like guns.
Me: They don't?
Theo: It's not a good idea to bring a gun to school, Mommy.
Me (stifling a laugh): No, it's definitely not a good idea!

I was wondering where this came from, and then it occurred to me: sharing! Turns out one of the kids in his class brought a water gun for sharing, and evidently the teacher counseled him against doing this again. I just had to laugh because a commentary on guns in schools was pretty much the last thing I expected to hear Theo calmly deliver as he was eating his after-school snack.

Evil Genius

Theo can tell time (more or less) on a digital clock, and he knows he's allowed to get out of bed every morning at 7 a.m. That said, I wanted a few extra minutes to myself to shower before he awakened, so I decided to be clever and set his clock back 20 minutes--so when his clock says 7:00, it's actually 7:20. (Why not just tell him he can't get up until 7:20? Because I fight parenting battles every day, and I didn't feel like fighting yet another....)

This plan worked very well for a couple of months. And then, a few days ago, I noticed he burst into my room at 7:15. "That's odd," I thought. "His clock should say 6:55 right now." I went and checked, and it said 7:04. I reset it and didn't think much about it--perhaps Chris had changed it and forgotten to tell me. It's on top of a five-foot dresser, so surely Theo hadn't messed with it. (Ha!)

This morning, Theo burst into my room at 7:00...by my clock. "Your clock doesn't say 7:00!" I challenged. "Yes, it does," he replied. I went to check. Guess what? His clock said 7:02. I asked Chris whether he had reset it. He hadn't. I haven't. Sam can't even really use his hands yet, much less climb atop a dresser to stage such an evil plan! The pugs don't have opposable thumbs, so it wasn't them. That leaves one person who could've changed the clock: one short, blond mop-top.

What really floors me is that he not only managed to climb to the top of the five-foot dresser, but he somehow pushed the right sequence of buttons to change the clock to exactly 7:00. My mother can't even reset an alarm clock--how did my four-year-old manage to do it? This isn't a matter of just randomly pressing buttons and getting lucky--he actually managed to reset it to the correct time.

Evil genius, I tell you...

Belly Up to the Bar

For some reason, Theo is lately obsessed with bars. "Bars have scary mans in them, Mommy," he tells me...many times a day. I assure him that we won't be taking him in any bars, so there's no need to worry. Yet he's fascinated--he wants to know what they do in bars ("Order drinks, Theo...") and who goes to bars ("Lots of people, Theo. And they're not usually scary. But you have to be a grown-up."). He's fascinated by the fact that they play music in bars, too.

So lately, we've had some fun comments about the bars. One day at music class, his teacher pulled out a cello and announced that the kids could play it. Theo yelled, "Mommy! A cello! It's just like at the bar!" (Because apparently they play cellos at bars--who knew?!)

Another day, we were walking around downtown Clayton, and we stopped to get a cookie at the cafe. Chris stayed outside, pushing sleeping Sam in the stroller to keep him asleep. When we emerged from the cafe, Chris was nowhere to be seen...and Theo somberly announced, "I fink Daddy's at the bar, Mommy." (If you know Chris, you know how laughable this is. He's not a bar type!)

He has also informed me that "When I'm 21, Papa [his paternal grandfather] will take me to the bar, and I will order drinks. I will have beer and wine and bottled water!"

Last but not least, today he needed to go to the bathroom, so we stopped at a stripmall. Chris said he wasn't going to take him in Target, as he knew that particular Target had very loud hand dryers (which Theo is terrified of). So Theo piped up with a loud, "Daddy, can you take me to the bar?"

I would love to know what the people in the parking lot thought when they heard that one. Because we all know HOW LOUDLY THEO TALKS!!

Let Me Tell You How It's Done, Mommy

We have reached the age where Theo thinks Chris and I are morons who need things explained very carefully to us. This is actually rather amusing, because Theo is quite polite about it--he just explains everything in great detail and very slowly, as if he's talking to a couple of not-too-bright people. Yesterday was a good example:

Theo: Mommy, I want to ride the school bus.
Me: I know, Theo. It's not set up yet, though.
Theo: Mommy, could you call and set it up?
Me: No, they have to call me. I don't have their number. I'll check with the school office, though.
Theo: Mommy, you need to keep your phone with you. And you need to make sure it's on so you can hear it if they call you. Because they might call you, Mommy. They might need to talk to you....


But it wasn't just me. The conversation continued after I picked him up that afternoon:


Theo: Mommy, did you set up my school bus?
Me: Sort of. I called, and they said it should be ready on Thursday.
Theo: I want it now! The driver just needs to turn on the radio. Then he needs to start the bus. Then he needs to make it go "beep, beep, beep" [the warning sound the bus makes when backing up]. Then he needs to drive to Mt. Diablo. Then he will be at my house!

I love that the first step for the driver is turning on the radio--even before he starts the bus. Priorities, people! And I can just see Theo giving the driver helpful driving tips when his bus service does start!

I Think He Likes It, Mikey!

Remember Mikey, the kid from the Life cereal commercials who liked the cereal? "Hey Mikey, he likes it!" Well, Theo is like Mikey about preschool, I think. This morning, I put him and Sam into their car seats and went back in the house to get my keys and diaper bag. Then I heard this:

Theo (yelling from the van): GET IN THE CAR, MOMMY!
Me: I think you mean, "Could you get in the car please, Mommy?"
Theo (after I get in): Mommy, could you please start the car?
Me: Yes...why are you in such a hurry?
Theo: Because I want to go to my new preschool! I like my new Jennifer!

Jennifer was one of his favorite teachers at his previous preschool. I believe his "new Jennifer" is actually his new teacher, Amanda, whom he described to me when I tried to determine who the "new Jennifer" is.

We're only in Week 1, but so far I'd say Mikey likes it!

Four Going on Forty

Today after Theo's swim lesson, we stopped by Target to look for a swim noodle to use at our community pool. They didn't have any, but they do have a Starbucks kiosk, and given my weakness for iced mochas, I stopped to get one. Theo asked for a "sparkly" cake pop (a little two-bite bit of cake on a stick--kind of like a lollipop), and he had been pretty good at swimming and music class, so I bought one for him. But I really wanted him to be quiet on the ride home, as Sam was sleeping, so I bought the pop and told him that if he used his "inside voice" all the way home, then he could have his cake pop when he got home. If he raised his voice (this is a constant battle lately), he wouldn't get the cake pop. As luck would have it, he raised his voice. So I told him he had lost the cake pop. This was cause for much distress and yelling.

However, he started to shape up fairly well after a couple minutes, so I decided I'd give him a chance to earn it back. "Theo," I said, "you need some quiet time when we get home. It's a little late for a nap, but I want you to spend an hour of quiet time in your room. You can look at your books or rest. If you can do that quietly for an hour, with no raising your voice and no kicking the wall [another constant battle in our household], then you can have your cake pop back after that."

Theo, ever the negotiator, wasn't terribly pleased with the idea of a whole hour on quiet time, so he tried to negotiate. His closing argument left me both amused and rolling my eyes:

"Mommy, I am just going to go to my room and look at my books and stop all this fussing! Then when I stop whining and fussing in a couple minutes, I am going to open my door and come downstairs, and then I am going to eat my sparkly cake pop! And it is going to be very tasty. And that is the end of the discussion, Mommy!"

Well, yes, it was the end of the discussion, but only because I wasn't going to argue with a four-year-old--even one who thinks he's forty! (And yes, I won in the long run--he spent a lovely quiet hour in his room looking at his books. And earned back his cake pop. End of discussion!)

The Care and Feeding of Babies

It's a good thing I have Theo around to give me parenting tips. Today's went like this: "Mommy, please burp the baby. That's what you gotta do after you feed a baby--you gotta burp him. Burp him gently, Mommy. He's very fragile."

The best part was that he spoke with such serious authority on the subject. This from the kid who thinks it's appropriate to come up and bellow in a sleeping baby's face. Hmmm...

Jesus Was a...Scary Fireman??

After a recent visit to my sister's house, Theo informed me, "Aunt Lynnie has a sticker on her car. It's a scary, scary man. He fights fires." I was utterly perplexed...until I finally figured out he was referring to the "tortured/crucified Jesus" sticker on the back of my sister's van. Apparently crucified Jesus was actually a scary firefighter. Who knew?!

My Son the Smartass

I'm chagrined to admit that Theo outsmarts me on a somewhat regular basis. And he's now old enough to taunt me about it. Which is both annoying and amusing. Yesterday, we had this exchange in the car, in response to Theo throwing a giant fit over the fact that the lid came off his cup.

Theo (screaming): Put the lid back on my cup NOW, Mommy!


Mommy, knowing that she can't do much disciplining while driving on the freeway at 70 mph, chooses to ignore the rude demand and enact the ultimate punishment--turning off the radio.


Theo: NOOOOO! I want the radio back on!!
Mommy: Do you know why I turned it off?
Theo: Because I was fussing.
Mommy: Yes, you were fussing and yelling at Mommy. So the radio is not going back on.


Silence from the backseat leads to surprise from Mommy, who was expecting a full-blown screaming session over the injustice of the radio being turned off. The reason for the silence becomes apparent in a few seconds, as the strains of the Black Eyed Peas' "I Gotta Feeling" emanate from the back seat. Theo has found his iPod and turned on the music. Unfortunately, while driving on the freeway, Mommy cannot turn around and grab the iPod to continue the "no music" punishment, so she grits her teeth and ignores it. 


Theo: Look, Mommy, I have music! I have lots and lots of music on my iPod!


Mommy ignores Theo's obvious attempts to bait her and continues driving. 


Theo: I can play songs on my iPod! I have lots of songs on my iPod!


Mommy continues to ignore this, and Theo continues to taunt Mommy while she drives, knowing that to continue to drive safely, so has to let him win this round. Mommy was both annoyed by and amused at his cleverness. The problem with having a smart kiddo....

Gender Reassignment

Theo's newest plan for Sam: "We need to put Sammy back in Mommy's tummy and let him grow small again and turn him back into a girl."

I wasn't aware Sam was a girl at one point, but apparently he was--and can be again!

A Man with a Plan

Theo has a fun new way of expressing himself when he's mad: He tells you exactly what he's going to do, in great detail, using the phrasing "I'm just going to..." at the beginning of every sentence or phrase. You're wondering how this is amusing? Picture this: Last night we tried to go to a book sale at our library, only to find out that Friday night was members-only night...and we're not members. Theo, who hadn't wanted to go in the first place, suddenly really wanted to go and was furious when we said we had to just walk home instead of going in. So imagine an incredibly indignant, blonde-haired, blue-eyed cherub announcing with all the fury he can muster:  "No! I am just going to get the key to the front door [which hangs way up high so he can't reach it], and I am going to open the front door, and I am going to walk down the driveway, and I am going to look both ways, and I am going to walk into the street, and I am going to stay in the gray part [the gutter on the side of the street--we have no sidewalk], and I am going to walk down the path, and I am going to walk to the library, and I am going to take my ID, and I am going to get a library card [apparently he remembers from several months ago that I couldn't get a library card because I didn't have an ID with the right address on it], and I am going to go to the book sale!" And then he looked at us in all his four-year-old rage, as if defying us to argue with his well-thought-out plan. And yes, the italics are his emphasis. It's rather hilarious. I love that he even threw in the safety points of looking both ways before going into the street and walking in "the gray part." You can't say that boy isn't a thinker....