A Man's World

Henry, my nineteen month old, has recently discovered his favorite appendage.  No, not that one.  Do you really think that took him nineteen months?  I mean the other one.  The remote.

'Mote?  Are you?

And as embarrassing as it is to say, because I know better, he loves television.  I am going to blame it on his four year old brother.  'Cause that's certainly an appropriate age to watch copious amounts of television.

His latest fave is Matman (the old old school Batman with Adam West).  And it's terrible.  I mean awful.  But when he comes up to me, pushing the 'mote into my hand and says

Watch dis?  Matman?

he often gets his way.

We read books, too.  I promise.

Lesson Learned

William and I headed to Kroger one afternoon after school.  As I taking him out of the car, he tells me

Mom, my tummy is growling.

Okay, hon.  I will fix you something to eat when we get home.

Actually, mom.  I have a better idea.  My tummy is growling for McDonald's (His eyes shift toward the "restaurant" across the street).

I start laughing.

Mom!  You're making me feel stupid.

I'm sorry, William.  I'm not trying to make you feel stupid.

I know you're a teacher.  But, I am your son.  And I'm four-and-a half.  I was being serious.  You shouldn't be laughing at me.  That makes me feel stupid.

No, Mommy guilt did not prevail.  Guess I won't be laughing next time.  But, I won't be buying McDonald's either.

A Many Splendored Thing

When my in-laws picked William up last week (Henry had to go to the ER for an epinephrine treatment) one of the teachers pointed out his "new" VERY over-sized coat and explained that it was an unclaimed "Lost and Found" coat that William had "fallen in love with" so...

I am not in love with a coat!  You don't fall in love with things. You fall in love with people. And then you get married....

My bad, dude.

Best in Show

It's been awhile.  I have several stories to share, but I'll start with this one.

William's daycare/preschool puts on a Christmas program every year.  William is very much the ham, something he gets quite honestly.  It's such a treat to watch him belting out "The Twelve Dogs of Christmas," mouth stretched as widely as possible when singing "FIIIIIIIIIIIIVE GOOOOOOLDEN RETRIEEEEVEERS!" dancing with his white boy rhythm. And, to get the best possible view, you know I was sitting front row.  And suddenly, mid-song, his eyes locked with mine, his mouth opened and he belted out,

"Mom!  I need to go potty!"

Fortunately the bathroom was a few steps stage right and we made it back for the twelfth dog of Christmas, which was ironically a cat.