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    I feel like we should have a “guess the number of revolutions” contest

    July 6, 2007

    Babysitter:  You know, I clocked the mileage yesterday down to the fence and back to the house.
    K:  How far?
    Babysitter:  ONE POINT ONE MILES!!!!!
    K:  On a tricycle.
    Babysitter:  (still shocked) He rode ONE POINT ONE MILES.
    K:  On a tricycle.  And then we found out he had a 101.2 fever. 
    Babysitter:  That was terrible.
    K:  And that was the second time he did it this week.
    Babysitter: And he wants to do it again.
    K:  It’s not like it’s a flat road.  There are hills, for heaven’s sake.  So how many revolutions do you think that is?  It must be the equivalent to thousands and thousands.  I mean, the pedals only go forward 2 inches.  Don’t they have those things that you clip on to your bike to tell you how many calories you have burned?
    Babysitter:  1.1 miles.
    K:  I know.  Welcome to my world.

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    If you called me earlier and Walter Cronkite answered the phone, you should probably call me back

    E:  Mama, I talk on the phone to you.
    K:  Eat, I was downstairs making shirts.  You were talking to me on the phone?
    D:  He was talking to somebody.
    K:  (incredulous that it clearly never crossed his mind to, I don’t know, SEE WHO THE BOY WAS TALKING TO ON THE PHONE) Did you check to see who he was talking to?
    D:  Nah, by the time I got to him, he had moved on and was checking our voicemail messages.
    K:  So you think he was talking to someone but you don’t know who it was?
    D:  Nope.

    I didn’t even ask how far The Boy got in the voicemail process.  Because that may mean that I have to change the alarm code too.  And I’m just not quite ready to do that because of my 2 year old.  Go ahead and call me crazy.

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    I can understand how one would be confused about celebrating a birthday without cupcakes

    July 5, 2007

    E:  Mama, today it’s flag’s birthday.

    Uh, technically speaking, that was June 14th.

    K:  You told him it was the flag’s birthday?
    D:  Yeah.
    K:  What happened to revolutions, taxation and excessive governmental interference?  And I’m not talking about the sitting Congress.
    D:  I tried, but he wasn’t following it very well.
    E:  Mom, I can’t wait birt’day hats.  I want birt’day hats for flag’s birthday, Mama.
    K:  Eat, we don’t have birthday hats for the flag’s birthday.
    E:  Mama, I eat birt’day cake for flag’s birt’day.

    K:  The kid told us which direction to turn to get home from the ice cream store last night.  Don’t you remember the “turn HERE” along with the, might I add, CORRECT motion for me to turn right?  You really don’t think he could have understood the Boston Tea Party?
    D:  I tried.
    E:  Mama, I LIKE birt’day hats birt’day party flag birt’day, Mama. 
    K:  Eat, can flags wear birthday hats?
    E:  NNNOOOOO!   But I can wear a birt’day hat, Mama.

    One of the many reasons I am against any form of dishonesty in parenting. 

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    So you are saying we should get a StairMaster

    June 20, 2007

    D:  Can you see him?
    K:  Sort of.  I can see his feet.  Uh, now I can only see his shadow.
    D:  Can you see him now?
    K:  Nope, but I can see the door and that’s his only way out.
    D:  Are you sure he is still there?
    K:  I can hear him banging around on the other side of the gumball machines.

    Suddenly the nice young man busing tables across the room made a motion to us with his hand.

    K:  You should definitely go get him.  That guy is pointing.  Maybe he left.
    D:  You think?

    As my husband climbed out of the booth and turned around to go retrieve our son from wherever he disappeared, The Boy suddenly reappeared before our very eyes.

    He had scaled the two levels of gumball machines and was staring at us from the top of the highest machine.  Five feet in the air.

    Busboy:  He sure is a good climber.
    K:  Even better than we thought…. 

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    Update: Potty Training, aka Signs that The Boy May One Day Enter a Nudist Colony

    June 19, 2007

    As seen on

    training–v.   tr.

    1. To coach in or accustom to a mode of behavior or performance.
    2. To make proficient with specialized instruction and practice. See Synonyms at teach.
    3. To prepare physically, as with a regimen: train athletes for track-and-field competition.
    4. To cause (a plant or one’s hair) to take a desired course or shape, as by manipulating.
    5. To focus on or aim at (a goal, mark, or target); direct. See Synonyms at aim.
    6. To let drag behind; trail.  

    As, is the case in number 6, I find myself training.

    So, after listening to all the advice,  I decided to go with that new-fangled training method of taking your child’s diaper off and hoping against all hope that you don’t find puddles all over the house.  I thought this was a good idea now rather than before moving because I now have 95% carpet as opposed to the 95% oh-so-easy-to-clean-hardwood floors at the old house.   Let me say, it has been slightly disconcerting to the army of workers attempting to put Humpty Dumpty back together again over here at the Money Pit and now the neighbors are POSITIVE we are white trash sent to bring the ‘hood down, but whatever.

    Can I just say it’s working like a charm?  Except for the incident where he held it in for 3 hours until he could get onto the front porch to, and I quote “see the pee on the front porch, Mama.”  There was a couple of incidents of taking a dump in the yard (“EEEETHAN!!!!  WHO GOES TO THE BATHROOM OUTSIDE????  E:  Zinni, Mama…..see, Mama, I go poop”) right by the driveway.  I mean, I have 3.3312 acres now so it seems logical to poop DIRECTLY BESIDE THE DRIVEWAY. 

    Other than that, the only downside is that now I can’t get clothes back on him. 


    If you feel like you just can’t hear it in your hear it in your head, imagine “no” in lieu of “GOAL.”  That’s about right. 

    “Oh, just put the clothes on him.  You Parents These Days.”  That’s what you are saying, right?

    Come on over and show me how it’s done.  I gotta go.  Naked Bike Rider is doing the laps in the house.  Maybe I can head him off at the pass.

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    We aren’t exactly sure what made him open his mouth for the picture

    May 21, 2007

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