The Tail of Sleeping Beauty (and that is not a typo)

J loves the story of "Sleeping Beauty". He will often act out parts. Now, I don't remember the story this way, but here was tonight's rendition:

J: (calling from upstairs) Mommy. Be Sleeping Beauty.
T: Okay. (pretends to sleep) I am Sleeping Beauty.
J: (coming down the stairs) I'm a shark!
T: (completely loses it, then pretends to sleep again)
J: (leans over T) RRRRROOOOOAAAAARRR!
(pause)
J: (climbs up and touches T's face) WAKE UP!
T: I can only be woken up by my true love's kiss.
J: But I can't kiss you. Because I'm a shark.
T: I can only be woken up by my true love's kiss.
J: But I have sharp teeth!
T: I can only be woken up by my true love's kiss.
J: But ... but ... DADDY!!!

H arrives, to find T pretending to sleep on the couch and a frustrated J dressed in a hooded towel that strongly resembles a shark.

J: You're Sleeping Beauty's true love! Kiss her!

H complies, and T awakes. Moments later:

H: J! Don't wrap your tail around that bag!
J: But I can't hold it with my fins.
T: (completely loses it and almost chokes on her gum)

Mr. Shark then works to postpone bedtime. He gives Sleeping Beauty presents for her birthday (which is not for several months, in case anyone was wondering). She receives a bag full of stuffed animals actually belonging to baby N, a Merlin magnifying glass (which J tells me is "so you can see any wet spots"), and a dump truck. Score!

And then, when he realizes it is not actually Sleeping Beauty's birthday, Mr. Shark swims away with all the presents tied to his tail. He informs Sleeping Beauty that she does not get any presents; she has to wait for her birthday.

Of course, it all ends very badly. A tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. There is a horrible bedtime brawl. A cat's tail is pulled. Screaming ensues. There are tears and headaches. And someone has to go to bed without a story. And The Tail of Sleeping Beauty is nearly ruined.

Nearly. But not quite. For H and I will always remember the sight of J, swimming away with several bags of toys tied around his hooded towel tail. And that's worth a lot.

It is inappropriate to have a "favourite large yucky bug"

Today, I had to phone H at work and have him come home. I've had a severe headache since Saturday morning. My positive thinking and careful Tylenol dosing have not helped it to pass. I couldn't cope with the pain today, so I couldn't take care of the kids properly. I also couldn't drive myself to the doctor because I could barely see. H loaded the kids into the van and drove me to the doctor, then returned home to wait for me to call for a ride home. And I waited at the doctor's office for over two hours before I was seen.

It's a severe sinus infection. Hurts like hell. Imagine someone attacking your eye socket with a crochet hook. Yeah. It's kind of like that. But now, I have drugs. The doctor says I should be feeling better by the weekend.

As painful as this is, though, I think it may actually be preferrable to the torture H had to endure at the hands of our children while I was away.

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N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: (singing) Rock-a-bye baby ...
J: Daddy!
H: ... in the treetop ...
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
J: Daddy!!
H: ... the cradle will ...
J: DADDY!!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: WHAT, J?!?!
J: I want you to pretend to be the big giant cockroach from "Men in Black".
H: ...
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: Rock-a-bye ...
J: DADDY!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: FINE! (In a really low voice) I am the big giant cockroach from "Men in Black".
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
J: Big giant cockroach?
H: *sigh* Rock-a-bye baby ...
J: BIG GIANT COCKROACH FROM "MEN IN BLACK"?!
H: Yes, J!!!
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
J: Cockroaches are my favourite kind of large yucky bug, because they have big sharp teeth coming out of their cheeks.
H: Good. Is that all?
N: WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
H: ... when the wind blows ...
J: COCKROACH!!!

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That? Or the sinus infection? I think it's a toss-up. But what would you prefer?

Fun with Dick and J

J got a small stuffed puppy dog toy with a happy meal a couple of weeks ago. He likes his puppy. Yesterday, J was drinking milk with a straw. He held his puppy up to the straw, and ...

J: Daddy, can you ask if my puppy is drinking my milk?
H: Ok. J, is your puppy drinking your milk?
J: No.
H: ...

Magic, I tell you! J is clearly destined for improv greatness.

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N, if you get so ticked off when your swing stops moving, perhaps you should stop grabbing its frame and manually stopping it. I do not enjoy being serenaded by the screams of rage that follow.

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In unrelated news, I find that I've lost another follower. That's two in the last couple of months. The first was after I'd posted a political diatribe, and I concluded I'd maybe caused some offense. I didn't mean to, but ... happens, I guess. (shrug)

Anyway, I'm not sure what happened this time. I'm pretty sure my last post wasn't offensive. Maybe our musical tastes differ? I'm just going to conclude that people use their readers for different purposes, and this isn't really that big a deal in the grand scheme of things. Even still, de-following a blog is a rather unfriendly gesture. I've never done it. But I figure, if it's done to me, I'll have to return the favour. Passive aggressive? Perhaps. But it seems fair and reasonable, so I'm going with it. ;)

'Kay. I'm over it. As we all know, I'm too busy to be terribly upset about this kind of thing. But I do like it when people choose to follow the blog. And I try to respond in kind. 'Cause that's how I roll. **

BTW - If you're following my blog and I haven't yet added you to my reader, it's probably just because you don't have the easy-click widget thingy displayed on your blog, and I have absolutely no idea how else to add you. Pathetic, I know, but still true. Add the easy-click widget thingy. You know you want to.

Updated to add:
I'm really not upset at all about the whole de-following thing. I know everybody's got their reasons for doing these things, and I'm mostly pretty laid-back about it. I just noted that I'm the third person in my little circle to have lost a follower in the last week, so I'm not quite sure what's up. That's why it feels unfriendly right now. We can't possibly follow everyone in bloggy land; must be selective in our reading. So ... no real issues here. :)


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** I try, but make no guarantees. Busy.

The incredibly mediocre pretender

J is growing up. I love it and hate it all at once. The boy who, a few short months ago, would always say "I were" is now not only saying "I was" but is actually correcting the poor grammar of random cartoon characters.

J: How come he says "I did saw a puddy tat" instead of "I did see ..."?

(My BAAAAAAABY!!!!! *sob*)

And N is getting bigger and bigger, too. Today, we packed up his old clothes. My last baby. This kind of thing makes me happy and sad all at once. I'm glad he's growing, but I miss my tiny baby. Is it good? Is it bad? It's a toss-up, really.

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We took the kids to the ice festival. It was only slightly affected by the uncharacteristically warm weather. A chunk of one melty ice sculpture fell to the ground with a large clunk as we walked by. But J still got to go down the ice slides. And see the ice maze. And the dragon and dinosaur sculptures, and of course the big castle which they guarded, which was quite spectacular. So he had lots of fun. Hard to push a stroller through slush and crowds, but all told a good experience.

When we left, J decided that he was going to pretend to be the ice dragon. And H was to be the dinosaur.

H: And what's mommy? Is she the castle? Or the slide?
J: No. Mommy is the Ice Princess.
H: Oh!
J: And the dragon and the dinosaur will fight each other.
H: Really?
J: Yes. But the dragon will protect the Ice Princess.
H: Okay.
J: The dragon says "ROAR"! And the dinosaur says "ROAR"!
H: Okay. ROAR!
J: ROAR! And the dragon and the dinosaur fight.
H: And what does the Ice Princess do?
J: Nothing. She doesn't do anything. She just sits there in the chair.
H: She just sits there and does nothing while we try to kill each other?
J: Yes.
T: I was totally cut out for this job.

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Clearly, J is really into imaginative play now. But he's not so good with improvisation. As a result, J's particular brand of imaginative play is a bit tough to take for any extended period. It goes something like this.

J: I'm going to be the Mommy Ghost. And you be the Baby Ghost.
T: Ok. I'm Baby Ghost.
J: Hi. I'm Mommy Ghost.
T: Hi Mommy.
J: No! Mommy Ghost!
T: Oh, sorry. Hi Mommy Ghost.
J: Hi Baby Ghost. (pause) Baby Ghost?
T: Yes, Mommy Ghost?
J: Can you say "Where's my Mommy Ghost"?
T: Where's my Mommy Ghost?
J: Now laugh at this!
T: Ha ha ha ha ha!!
J: Good Baby Ghost. Now you can go to preschool!

And it only gets worse from there.

J: Daddy. Can you pretend to be the wishing well with the big purple light?
H: Ok. I'm the wishing well with the big purple light.
J: No! Talk like the wishing well!
H: (in the standard very deep voice he uses for all things inanimate) I'm the wishing well with the big purple light.
J: Hi wishing well with the big purple light.
H: Hi J.
J: Wishing well with the big purple light?
H: Yes, J.
J: Why do you have a big purple light?
H: I don't know. I just do.
J: No! You say "Because I'm the wishing well"!
H: Oh. Ok. Because I'm the wishing well.
J: Oh! (pause) Wishing well with the big purple light?
H: J, can I please talk to Mommy for a minute?
J: No! Wishing well with the big purple light?

It is at this point that H and I generally consider searching for a wishing well with a big purple light so we can jump in and just really wish for it to kill us quickly. But clearer heads prevail and we continue to play. If under protest.

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J likes things of the same basic shape and colour to be together. Especially if they are different sizes. He groups these things together all the time. And if you try to put anything away, he will flip out about it. His logic is quite rational, really.

J: No! This is the mommy yellow ball, and this is the baby yellow ball! They have to stay together!!

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A kid who constantly looks for the loophole, you really have to be specific when giving J directions. It is not sufficient to just say, for example, "Don't wake up your brother" ... he will plead ignorance when he does so. He needs detail. Such as:

T: J, please don't wake your brother. Don't scream his name. Or anything else. Or raise your voice. Or smack him on the head. Or pat him on the head. In fact, smacking or patting him at all is generally not okay right now. Don't pinch his cheeks. Or his hand. Or any other part of him. Or pull on his clothes. Or his feet. Or his hands. Or his head. Or anything else somehow attached to him. And don't push his swing. Or stop his swing. Or hammer, or saw, or screw his swing. Or jump up and down in front of him and shake his swing. Or throw your toys at his swing. Or at him. Or in his general direction. Or down the stairs. Or into that tree. Or any other tree. Maybe just don't throw things in general, okay? Just. Please. Don't. Wake. Your. Brother.

But he still finds a way. Oh yes, he does.

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And so it goes. This is our life. It's a good life. Really.

And I guess the good thing about them growing up is that their quality of imaginative play and interpretation is bound to improve as they age. Right?

Right?

Please?

A little knight music

J likes to pretend that I'm a princess. He calls me "Princess Mommy". And then I get him to perform all the household chores, 'cause I'm royalty and he is my willing servant. Don't judge me. You're just jealous that you didn't think of it first. Shut up.

Actually, at these times, I call him "Sir J". And he usually builds things for me. Like tall towers of blocks. "This is your tower, Princess Mommy", he'll say. And then I'm supposed to live in the tower. Just like Princess Fiona from Shrek. Only without the dragon. (We do have a scary-assed dragon, and I asked him about it, but he said the dragon does not guard Princess Mommy's tower.)



Today, J decided that he would use his Fisher Price violin to make beautiful music for Princess Mommy. He played several songs, and I liked them all. I expressed appropriately demure Princess-like appreciation at the end of every number. But when I asked if I could hire him as the Royal Music Man, he declined. I assume this kind of employ would interfere with Sir J's artistic integrity.

Love will keep us together

My son is gifted. I know all parents think that, but in this case, it's really true.

Today, J decided to pretend to be a piggy. He advised me that he was a "little piggy". I didn't get it, but I played along. J pretends to be lots of things; this was not unusual. So I needed to refer to him as "Piggy". Fine. I can do that.

And then, quite unexpectedly, he asked me this:

J: Why do you keep knocking things down?

Again, I didn't get it. What was he talking about?

T: I don't know what you're talking about.
J: Houses. Why do you keep knocking houses down?

At last I got it! J was a Little Pig, and I was to play the part of the Big Bad Wolf. Ok. I get it. I'll play along.

T: Blowing houses down?
J: Yes. Why do you do it?
T: Because I am a wolf, and it is what I do.
J: But it's naughty! You really shouldn't blow houses down.
T: It's naughty?
J: Yes! That's bad! Please don't do it anymore?
T: Oh. Ok. Well, now that I know it's naughty, I won't do it anymore.

My Little Pig was happy with this. And to show his appreciation, he invited the Big Bad Wolf to his house. They sat down together and enjoyed tea and cake, and much merriment ensued. They taught one another to howl and oink, and they played with many toys.

And everything became clear. So many of life's little problems come from poor communication and misunderstanding. How easy it would be if we could all just sit down together and have tea and cake. And my little boy is so very gifted that he can make that happen. Just like that.

What an amazing child I have. Yes indeedy. He likes it when people get along. He likes it when everyone is nice to each other. It makes him unhappy when people fight. We should all be nice to each other. Be good, and never naughty. And he cares so deeply about all of this that you just know he's going to do great things. Maybe he'll be a psychiatrist. A marriage and relationship counselor. But whatever he chooses, he'll help make the world a better place. Yes, he will. Because at the end of the day, all you need is love. And love - love will keep us together.

And just as all of this was occurring to me, my reverie was broken. Quite unceremoniously shattered, in fact.

J: Look! That's a nice ant. A very nice ant, for me to step on. I squish him!

Maybe ... not ...

J and his Babies

This morning, J brought three teddy bears into our room - Panda, Red Bear, and Gold Bear. He insisted that they were his babies. He changed each of their diapers, making sure to apply copious amounts of "bum cream". And then he lifted his shirt and breastfed each "baby" in turn.

Cute!