Oh my

This morning, TJ was being Mr. Helpful and Mr. Responsible.  He was busy washing up the breakfast dishes (which is one of his assigned chores) while I dashed around getting ready to leave for my insurance licensing class.  He suddenly started laughing.  I was confused, because no one had said anything to him, the television wasn't on, and there were no cats entertaining him.  I asked him what was so funny. 

TJ leaned towards me and said (in a rather conspiratorial voice), "I F-A-I-R-T-E-D".  I looked at him for a minute, mentally assembled the word in my head, realized what he MEANT to spell, and started laughing.  TJ smiled and said, "So, was I close?" 

If you say 'fairted', it sounds British.  Is that the proper way of passing gas?

From Gross to Worse...

What's bad?  When your overly curious kitten eats something plastic and then pukes it up in the hallway.

What's worse?  When your eight-year-old who SHOULD BE IN BED discovers the puke while out looking for his Lego guys that he neglected to put away after dinner.  Why is it the only time they want to clean up, care for the pets, or use the bathroom is after I put them to bed???

What's even worse?  When your eight-year-old discovers the puke only because he stepped in it, and then reacts by dragging his foot (and the puke) all the way down the hallway.  Now, you are left with a child freaking out over puke on his foot and an entire hallway to clean.

Oh joy.

TJ's Freudian slip

I watch very little television these days.  I simply don't have time for it.  I do try to at least listen while the news is on at some point in the evening, and I still enjoy watching the Biggest Loser.  On Tuesday nights, when that show airs, I will be ironing, helping with baths and showers, and trying to catch most of what is happening on the show.

Last night, TJ wandered in and climbed up on the bed to watch the show while I ironed.  Before they went to a commercial break, Michelle Obama came on and did some sort of a promo for eating healthy or something.  TJ looked puzzled and said, "Why is the Big Lady on your show?"

Bill was walking down the hall as TJ said this and he and I both burst out laughing.  TJ realized he had said "Big" instead of "First" and also started laughing.  I'm glad he can laugh at his mistakes.  Especially one as funny as that!

Decals and Band-Aids

For his birthday, Nolan received a package of Angry Birds wall decals.  I actually picked these out, because they are removable and reusable, so I figured the boys couldn't be too destructive with them.  Nolan thought he should have decals spread all over his room.  We compromised by doing it my way...he has a couple dozen decals on the wall, but they are all behind his door.  He gets to enjoy them when the door is shut.

TJ and Sam felt left out.  They love Angry Birds almost as much as Nolan does.  So Nolan (who is really a good little brother) gave them each two decals to put on the wall at the head of their bed.  Then TJ and I had the brilliant idea to use a couple more decals to cover up holes in the wall (one hole was created when a two-year-old Sam threw a Matchbox truck at the wall, mere days after we moved in.  The other hole is recent.  "Someone" knocked the desk chair over.  Boom.  Hole in the wall).  I'm not crazy about having these silly birds scattered around the room, but it's much better than staring at flawed drywall.

A few days after we applied the decals, Nolan, TJ, and I were in TJ's room.  Nolan was studying the decals that covered the holes and he asked me if I thought the holes were gone yet.  TJ and I both looked at him and then we realized what Nolan was thinking.  Ouchies go away if you put a Band-Aid on them, so wouldn't a hole go away if you covered it up?

Oh, if only it were that simple!

More info on cats

It is possible for a small eight-pound black cat to steal an entire breakfast sausage off of the counter. This can be done while the entire family of five humans is sitting a foot away at the dinner table. Not one of us noticed.

The aforementioned piece of sausage was gnawed on for a bit before being discarded in the basement. Thankfully, I discovered it (thinking it was a mouse!) shortly after dinner. It could have been worse. I could have had a blog post titled "What happens when a cat steals sausage and no one finds it for months."

Seriously. We own a cat who thinks he is a dog.

Nolan R. Baron, MD

I think Nolan has a future in medicine.

A little while ago he was playing outside. I heard him rattling the front door (not quite strong enough to open it yet by himself), so I pulled the door open. He came inside looking frantic. "Gotta go poopie!" I hustled him down to the bathroom and got him situated on the toilet. He looked at me with his sage four-year-old wisdom and says:

"The poop tried to come out, but I held it in. My bottom is strong, the poop is not."

So, proctologist, perhaps?

Or, maybe he'll specialize in women's health? I'm wearing a v-neck shirt today. Nolan keeps pulling it down to see what he can find. Ugh.

Spelling time with Sam

Yesterday morning, Sam was being Sam. He was going to the bathroom (sitting, not standing), with the door open, of course. And he was dawdling about it. I know, I know. Please contain your surprise.

While Sam was taking his time in the bathroom, Nolan was zooming up and down the hallway, doing a pretty good impersonation of steam train. For some reason, this was annoying Sam.

I was in my room and overheard the following from Sam.

"Nolan. Stop making that train sound." (Train sounds continue)
"Nolan! I said 'stop'!" (Train sounds continue--little brothers are pests, you know)
"NOLAN. S-O-T-P! That spells 'Stop!'"

At this point, I intervened. I politely asked Nolan to stop, or relocate the train elsewhere. I told Sam to get off the toilet. And I told him the correct way to spell stop. And I laughed. Quite a bit.