Father(s) of the year

Hoo boy. This weekend was awesome. Here we were thinking it was going to rain and be gross all weekend long, forcing us to listen to incessant whining about watching (yet another) Arthur cartoon, or the Astroboy movie trailer for the googoleth time (because you know that googol is actually a word, right? It’s a 1 with 100 zeros after it…don’t believe me? Google it! Ha)….but then??? We had AWESOME weather!

Not surprisingly, we went to the park. Often more than once a day!

And we played in the sandbox(es). Good times.

That is, until Monkey picked up and fondled a piece of dog crap. Ok, fondled might be too strong of a word. But it was ALL over her hands. Oy. I know it was dog crap because, well, the smell. You KNOW that smell. The smell that hits you and stays with you, following you down the block, forcing you to check and recheck the bottom of your shoes, until finally it is replaced by a different smell. But you still check your shoes one more time, just because….the smell. It kind of burns into your nose and lingers there, unwanted, uninvited, uninhibited….ugh.

We cleaned her off as best we could, with wipes and hand sanitizer (thank you purell gods!) and headed home to really wash up. M, in his infinite capacity to be a good dad, hoisted Monkey up on his shoulders and gave her a ride home.

Halfway home, in a rather strangled sounding voice, M asked Monkey to stop playing with his hair. And, you know, to stop sticking her (poopy) fingers into his ears. I tried not to visibly shudder or audibly laugh. I tried SOOO hard. But when M announced that he needed to shower? I had to laugh. (and shudder).

He SO wins father of the year for that.

Also up for honorable mention? My little brother, who called me this morning to say that he still had vomit in his pants pockets after an unpleasant visit to the pediatrician with his insane toddler, HP. Squish, squish. He, too, was headed home for a shower.

Let’s hear it for the dads!!!!

Top ten reasons Monkey belongs in New York...

1) She can hail a taxi cab

2) Alarms & sirens won't wake her

3) Her breakfast of choice is a (fresh! never frozen) bagel

4) She objects to walking slowly and will break out in a run to get there/anywhere sooner

5) Big kids don't intimidate her

6) Dogs don't intimidate her, either, even when they jump on her and lick her face

7) She likes to look out our windows and watch our neighbors (has no fear of heights)

8) She is a fashion plate, and has VERY strong opinions about her outfits and shoes

9) She loves riding the subway

and

10) She likes Derek Jeter!

Lost hat

So yesterday, as the mercury rose and outside got more and more balmy, Monkey and I went for a walk.

We checked out the local stich-n-bitch shop (translation, yarn/knitting shop). We went to no less than three grocery stores in an attempt to buy pickled jalapenas for chilli. (come ON folks, you've got pickled french cornichons, pickled organic beets, and pickled white asparagus but - what - japlapenas are too common for you to stock? sheesh!). And we generally enjoyed walking around and waving at every single dog and kid that went by.

Then, just as the elevator door opened onto our floor, as Monkey ripped open the bag of Gerber's dehydrated fruit and an explosion of freeze-dried strawberries flew into the air and threatened to choke our lungs, and as I backed out of the elevator and fell smack on my arse (*g*ddam*&it that hurt), I realized that Monkey had lost her beloved hat. Not any old hat, not a screaming oh-hell-no-you-can't-make-me-wear-it-hat, but a hat that Monkey LIKED to wear. In the land of no, this is a precious commodity.

Crap.

Back out I went. Meanwhile dad hosed Monkey off in the tub, since the fr&kg* strawberries stain everything, like our carpet. Sigh.

While I was out, I did not find Monkey's hat.

However, I DID find:

1) one mitten, red
2) one mitten, blue
3) one scarf, handknitted fuschia
4) one stuffed animal
5) one shoe
6) and a partridge in a pear tree.

As I went back to the apartment and ordered another (ok, two - you know, just in case) hat for Monkey, I chuckled. I was comforted by the thought of the city being awash in discarded toddler gear.

Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that your toddler isn't the only insane one in town.

Whoops!

One of my dear friends celebrated her birthday last month.

And, despite the fact that I sent Christmas/holiday cards to exactly 6 people, I actually went out and bought her a birthday card. Which I never sent.

Why? Because Monkey really really REALLY likes the card. It has taken naps with her, gone on errands with her, and generally become one of her favorite items. Yes, almost as beloved as Elmo.

Dear friend, my child absconded with your card. (oh dear, that's right up there with the "dog ate my homework" excuse....)

I had to send belated electronic birthday greetings instead! Oy, thank g*d for "whoops" messages we can send over email!