Saturday we tried to make it to Darien, CT to see close friends of ours and their three kids. We wanted Monkey to meet their twin daughters (not too different in age) and their son, and we were looking forward to just hanging out with friends.
Alas and alack, it was not meant to be. In the midst of the parking lot also known as the freeway south of Stanford, Monkey puked all over herself. At the first available turnoff we hit a CVS for some (more) wipes, paper towels, and a clean Hanes tshirt (you know, boys underwear). And home again, home again, jiggity jig we went.
Sunday was much more fun. M's company had its family picnic up in Tarrytown. Back in the car we went (and yes, I had washed the puke off the carseat) and boy was it worth it!
The company went all out, renting those inflatable obstacle courses you see at Church picnics or the carnivals that pass through town. Monkey jumped and jumped and jumped and jumped. And then jumped some more. She loved it.
Lunch and four tattoos later, we were all in the car, covered in cotton candy and happy as clams. I wish we could do that every weekend!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Breakfast of champions
Lately, Monkey's breakfast of choice is.....hotdog buns. Arnold's hotdog buns, to be precise.
Yesterday they were on the counter by the toaster. So Monkey could see them and reached up to pull the bag off the counter. She's a self-service sort of gal. I.e., she has inherited her mother's extraordinary level of patience. The hotdog buns weren't there this morning, and Monkey literally crumbled to the floor in tears, unable to express her dread and sorrow that the world was ending RIGHT THAT MINUTE due to the lack of hotdog buns.
M figured out she might be looking for hotdog buns, and asked if that was what she wanted. Yes, came her whispery little reply, choking back the sobs as relief coursed through her veins. After an admonition to "use her words" and ask for hotdog buns instead of losing her shit ("one, two!" because she wants to hold something in each hand) the beloved doughy oblongs were obtained and all was well.
I feel sort of guilty letting her eat hotdog buns and grapes for breakfast. But really, how is that different than toast (and grapes) or bagels (and grapes)? Or even wheaties? It's all carbs, right?
All I can say is, thank god for vitamins!
Yesterday they were on the counter by the toaster. So Monkey could see them and reached up to pull the bag off the counter. She's a self-service sort of gal. I.e., she has inherited her mother's extraordinary level of patience. The hotdog buns weren't there this morning, and Monkey literally crumbled to the floor in tears, unable to express her dread and sorrow that the world was ending RIGHT THAT MINUTE due to the lack of hotdog buns.
M figured out she might be looking for hotdog buns, and asked if that was what she wanted. Yes, came her whispery little reply, choking back the sobs as relief coursed through her veins. After an admonition to "use her words" and ask for hotdog buns instead of losing her shit ("one, two!" because she wants to hold something in each hand) the beloved doughy oblongs were obtained and all was well.
I feel sort of guilty letting her eat hotdog buns and grapes for breakfast. But really, how is that different than toast (and grapes) or bagels (and grapes)? Or even wheaties? It's all carbs, right?
All I can say is, thank god for vitamins!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Milwaukee, or where the dinosaurs roam
We spent this past weekend with probably our closest friends in the world, in their lovely home (don't believe the hype about the "crapshack") in Milwaukee, WI.
We had a blast.
Their daughter, aka Bunny, is obsessed with dinosaurs. She's also 8 months older than Monkey and, um, freakishly smart. So watching the two of them interact was awesome. And gave us a preview of what life will be like with two ankle biters/insane toddlers in the apartment.
Bunny would flip about which particular (anklyosauraus, for example) dinosaur Monkey was not allowed to touch and which she "didn't want to share"....Monkey would shrug like, ok, damn woman, I can't say that word so you can have your dinosaur all to yourself. Relieved, Bunny would recant her toddler ways and offer the toy up for inspection. It was hilarious! And adorable. Thankfully, Bunny is good at sharing and Monkey was really more obsessed with the rubbery lizards than the actual dinosaurs, so it all worked out well. But for the first ten minutes of our visit I thought it might get ugly.
Also, at first they did the whole parallel play thing. But soon, they were having actual conversations. To wit:
Bunny: What 'cha got?
Monkey: Got my blanket.
Bunny: Oh, ok.
I know, it doesn't sound like two geniuses in the making, but trust me...it was cool. They had a conversation! Like two kids do! Like OMG BFF!!! Awesome, all around.
We had a blast.
Their daughter, aka Bunny, is obsessed with dinosaurs. She's also 8 months older than Monkey and, um, freakishly smart. So watching the two of them interact was awesome. And gave us a preview of what life will be like with two ankle biters/insane toddlers in the apartment.
Bunny would flip about which particular (anklyosauraus, for example) dinosaur Monkey was not allowed to touch and which she "didn't want to share"....Monkey would shrug like, ok, damn woman, I can't say that word so you can have your dinosaur all to yourself. Relieved, Bunny would recant her toddler ways and offer the toy up for inspection. It was hilarious! And adorable. Thankfully, Bunny is good at sharing and Monkey was really more obsessed with the rubbery lizards than the actual dinosaurs, so it all worked out well. But for the first ten minutes of our visit I thought it might get ugly.
Also, at first they did the whole parallel play thing. But soon, they were having actual conversations. To wit:
Bunny: What 'cha got?
Monkey: Got my blanket.
Bunny: Oh, ok.
I know, it doesn't sound like two geniuses in the making, but trust me...it was cool. They had a conversation! Like two kids do! Like OMG BFF!!! Awesome, all around.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Watch your language!
We all know this is the way it works, but sometimes it still startles me to hear Monkey repeat things we've said.
Lately she's been getting lots of rides on Daddy's shoulders. It is a way for them to have fun, and quite honestly we often get places faster that way (always a bonus with an inquisitive toddler whose favorite things are rocks! and questions about "what's that?".....both of which delay delay delay any efforts to walk. Anywhere. At any speed. Sigh.)
Since there always seems to be scaffolding up, often Monkey will be on Daddy's shoulders as we go underneath. At which point in time M will say "watch your head!" to tell her to duck.
I didn't think anything of it, until this morning on the way to school. I was pushing Monkey in her stroller, and just as we walked under some scaffolding she piped up and said "watch your head!" I started laughing. I mean, the scaffolding is at least 10 feet up above us....but still, got to watch your head!
Which is my reminder to myself....watch my language! So when that cabbie runs a red light and swerves at us (oh yes, that ALSO happened this morning and boy was I pissed) I need to not cuss. Eek.
Lately she's been getting lots of rides on Daddy's shoulders. It is a way for them to have fun, and quite honestly we often get places faster that way (always a bonus with an inquisitive toddler whose favorite things are rocks! and questions about "what's that?".....both of which delay delay delay any efforts to walk. Anywhere. At any speed. Sigh.)
Since there always seems to be scaffolding up, often Monkey will be on Daddy's shoulders as we go underneath. At which point in time M will say "watch your head!" to tell her to duck.
I didn't think anything of it, until this morning on the way to school. I was pushing Monkey in her stroller, and just as we walked under some scaffolding she piped up and said "watch your head!" I started laughing. I mean, the scaffolding is at least 10 feet up above us....but still, got to watch your head!
Which is my reminder to myself....watch my language! So when that cabbie runs a red light and swerves at us (oh yes, that ALSO happened this morning and boy was I pissed) I need to not cuss. Eek.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Baseball Mania
Monkey is a baseball fan. It's official. And she is SO her daddy's daughter, it is amazing.
Saturday we drove down to Philadelphia and took in a Phillies Brewers game. Yes, M is a devout Brewers fan, what can I say (except go Yankees!). We met one of Matt's good friends and his wife and 10 year old son at the game. They live in Baltimore, so we both split the difference and met in the middle.
Monkey not only enjoyed herself, but we made it through 9 innings with her! She adores the Phillie's mascot, the Phanatic, asking where the "monster" was and laughing with delight when they showed the mascot on the big screen.
There was even a cool kids playground with slides and playground equipment. We would have stayed longer but they had to close it down after some kid puked down the circular slide. Eeeuw.
We sent Monkey to school this morning wearing her Phillie's "tattoo" (of the mascot, of course) and she was showing it off to her teacher when I left.
Now, if I could only talk M into getting Yankee's season tickets......
Saturday we drove down to Philadelphia and took in a Phillies Brewers game. Yes, M is a devout Brewers fan, what can I say (except go Yankees!). We met one of Matt's good friends and his wife and 10 year old son at the game. They live in Baltimore, so we both split the difference and met in the middle.
Monkey not only enjoyed herself, but we made it through 9 innings with her! She adores the Phillie's mascot, the Phanatic, asking where the "monster" was and laughing with delight when they showed the mascot on the big screen.
There was even a cool kids playground with slides and playground equipment. We would have stayed longer but they had to close it down after some kid puked down the circular slide. Eeeuw.
We sent Monkey to school this morning wearing her Phillie's "tattoo" (of the mascot, of course) and she was showing it off to her teacher when I left.
Now, if I could only talk M into getting Yankee's season tickets......
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