Truths From a Two-Year Old

Eternal wisdom from the mouths of babes

1. **Post Bath Time is Awesome: Evan loves splashing in baths and trying to convince the shaking dogs to join in on the fun. But the best times are when where he can run screaming through the house and feel the breeze. Lately, the call of the wild has mesmerized him and he wants to share the joys with the world. My explanations of social mores seem to go on deaf ears, so I'll keep the doors locked and refrain from taking too many girlfriend-embarassing, blackmail photos.
2. The Case of the Missing Baby: My lil girl frequently moves from my belly to Evan’s tummy and will often give him life-threatening boo-boos that require the immediate healing power of kisses. It’s also his excuse to have more ice cream, a cookie, or fruit snacks. I blame David b/c I never eat ice cream for dinner. Nope, never. And those aren’t Oreo crumbs on my mouth. It’s just a little dirt.
3. Other Babies Can Live In Mommy: Friends, relatives and strangers have kindly donated their already born children back into my womb. Me: “I guess that’s why I get kicked so much.” Evan: “Yes, and why you sooo big now, mommy.” Gesturing with his hands spread wide and teetering on tip toes. Awesome, thanks, honey! Mommy feels so pretty.



Proof to Evan that there's really only one in there.

4. Butterflies are Fun Until They Spit On You: Evan desperately wanted to catch a butterfly at the show. When one finally landed on him, he sucked his entire face in and tried running away like Scooby from the masked Old Man Smithers. “It’s not kissing me; it’s spitting. Yucky.” I could only convince him not to fling the poor creature off if I held his hands. 

5. It Should be Called Tongue Painting: When asked how he paints, Evan joyfully added, “With my tongue. Yucky, but fun ‘cuz I have BIGGEST tongue. See, pbbblt.”
6. Scorpions are Everywhere: While trying to distract from a hissy fit, I pointed out fish, trees and a pond in a painting. My imaginative guy saw scorpions, frogs, turtles, and alligators. Not sure the knock-off Monet painter would have dreamed his painting could contain such mystery and delight.
7. Coughing is Funny Until You Can’t Breath: We were in the ER again for Croup as Mother’s Day turned into just another Maniac Monday. Earlier in the day, coughs created giggles, as snot is slimy and cool. Then, waking up in a panic, coughs turned into wails of agony and terror. A breathing treatment and steroid dose later, we’re back to giggles and tall tales to pretty nurses who cooed over how smart he is. But mommy was the real winner, as she got a soothing rose from sympathetic nurses. David: “You know, Evan, there are better ways to give mommy a rose.” Evan: “Okay, daddy. Next time you give rose and no coughing!” Ahh, music to my ears.

**Note: I had to change my original post due to some unsavory people searching Google for terms/implications I had not intended when describing my two-year old's fascination with post bath time. That's just wrong!

Mojo Rising

It's less than a week until my lil bambina will be here. Thank goodness because I am so ready. It's been another rough pregnancy, but I know the payoff will be worth it. I see it every time I look at my monkey, my Evan. He surprises me with the sweetest things and even tries to take care of me when I'm sick. 

The other day he told me, "Is Baby Mojo kicking you. Bad Mojo. You in time out. Don't worry, Mommy. I love you noodles and noodles." (Instead of oodles and oodles.)

I will also be happy to have the old Bethe back. The one who doesn't need to be hoisted out of couches, the one who laughs more, and the one who can match shoes by looking down instead of in a mirror. Until then, I'll rock my baby bump with pride.

                   

Inanimate Clowns: Scary as Hell

I’m not afraid of much. The typical creepy crawlies never fazed me and I’m always the one racing to the top to see what heights I can conquer. Global warming, strangely alive toupees, and bees (they’re the implement of my death) do get me quaking. But most of all: I HATE inanimate clowns. They're also no. 1 on my "Top 10 gifts to send your child screaming to psych appointments" list.

I’m a product of the 80s and watching Poltergeist ruined me for clown-related glee. Sure, I can take slapstick, red-nose wearing clowns any day. Because I know I can always kick them in the shins and run like heck if they start going all Tim Curry in IT. “They all float down here.” EEE!

It’s those creepy, glass-eyed, I’m going to strangle you in your sleep ones that get me. My own childhood clown took a few trips to the hall closet during the night before my parents got rid of it.

So imagine my horror when a friend sent me this link to a blog with an “unintentionally creepy clown” that's also pictured here.  Now, if that had been in the subject line I never would have clicked it. But this sadistic lady phrased it as, “Something for the New Baby's Room.” Seriously, what is wrong with toy makers? I'm sure, and desperately hope, the knife was inserted later.

Just close your eyes and drift off. Nothing to fear here.

I’ve since admonished said friend while she laughed gleefully, and told her I would tell this cautionary tale here. I did promise to keep her anonymous for fear of retribution in the form of more nightmare-inducing finds.

Just let this be a lesson to all who want to buy me new baby gifts. Creep-erific clowns and anything that inspires childhood trauma will instantly be re-gifted, and you will have to pay my or my child’s psychiatric bill. Oh, and sorry, Tim Curry. I really do love you, but if you come near me in any form of cake paint, I’ll strike first and ask questions later.