Creeper...

So, P has been showing up in my bed every night for the last few weeks. Normally, it's not a habit we allow, or encourage, but I have a sneaking suspicion it has a lot to do with me being gone 2 nights a week, because he's usually overjoyed to find out that I'm home when he sneaks in on Tuesday and Thursday nights.

Anyway, with all the resolve I have in my bones (which isn't much), I have been trying to resist the temptation of snuggling and holding him as long as he's little enough to allow me to do so. So, when he crept in the other night, I muttered as matter-of-factly as I could, "You REALLY should go back to your bed..." To which I received the response, "but mommy, I REALLY need some snuggles."

He won.

Friendships

P: Mom, I like friendships.

Me: You mean FUNships. (thinking about Carnival Cruises, which we've been on with him.)

P: No, FRIENDships.

Me: Oh.

P: I like Friendships a lot.

Me: What are friendships? (school lesson he misunderstood maybe? it is Valentine's week...)

P: Well, first you fly on an airplane. Then you get off, and then you get on a friendship. And if you get tired of one friendship, you just get on another one!

Me: Wow...that's really cool. Who taught you about friendships?

P: God.

Hot Tamales

P: Mom, can you put on Hot Tamales?

Me: Huh?

P: Do you have a CD that is Hot Tamales?

Me: a CD that is what?

P: Hot Tamales! I listen in Daddy's car.

Me: Uh, I don't know what Hot Tamales is baby...

P: I like it a lot, Mom. It's rock 'n roll...

Me: You mean, Metallica?!

P: Yeah! Metallica. I like Metallica.

Daddy

Tonights conversation in the car:

P: Mommy, when I grow up, I'm going to be a daddy!

Me: Oh yeah?! You're going to have kids?

P: No.

Me: Uh...

P: I'm just going to be a race car daddy and a police daddy.

Me: You have to have kids to be a daddy, and then I will be their grandma, like Duckie is your grandma.

P: I don't want to be YOUR daddy!

Me: I don't want you to be my daddy, silly...but you have to have kids. That's what makes you a daddy.

P: Oh, well then yes, I'm going to have kids.

Me: Do you want boys or girls?

P: Boys.

Albert: How many boys do you want?

P: Ummm, 2 or 3.

Me: Are you going to have a wife to?

P: No!

Me: (to my husband, Albert) Well, I'm going to be watching out for that skank...

Caught Up!

So, I think at this point I have caught the blog up to current times, and added in the stories that I always think about that already happened (at least the ones I can remember right now!). From here forward, I'm going to try and keep the blog updated as funny things happen - which is at least once or twice a week.

I hope you enjoyed catching up with us, and that you are as excited about what is to come as we are. :)

Light, my friend...

About 6:30pm, end of January or early February [2009], driving home from the mall:

P: Mom, is it dark outside?

Me: Look out your window, and you tell me; is it dark outside?

P: Yes.

Me: Well, there is your answer.

P: Mom, I don't like when it gets dark outside. I want to play, and I don't like bed time.

Me: I know, but everyone has to get some sleep sometime so they can grow big and strong.

P: Light, my friend, his name is Light. He's going to come and visit me - he's not here right now, but he's going to come back - and he's going to give me super powers.

Me: Oh yeah?

P: Yeah, he's gone right now, but he's going to come back and give me super powers so that I can never let it be dark again.

Me: I wouldn't like that.

P: Well, Light, my friend, is going to give me superpowers to not be dark, so...

Me: Well, that should be interesting. Super powers are cool.

P: Yeah. Light is my friend. He's cool.

Strangers

(Story courtesy of Preston's Tia Rosanna)

We left my brother in law's surprise birthday party the other day, and Preston decided he wanted to ride with his cousins, since we were going to their house for a bit anyway. As they were driving past the Ballpark, the conversation went something like this:

P: Tia Rosanne, me and my mom and my dad and me, we're going to go there to see the Strangers play.

R: Really? You're going to see the Strangers play?

P: Yeah, they play like this (swings arms like he's swinging a bat) and me and my mom and my dad and me are going to go watch them.

R: Wow, that sounds like fun. Can I come with you to see the Strangers?

P: (very serious) Do you have GPS?

R: Do I have to have a GPS to go with you?

P: My mom's GPS got stolen out of her car. Do you have one?

R: Yes. Does that mean I can go with you to see the Strangers?

P: (thinking) I guess. Gunnar, [his aunt] Steph's dog, he stole my mom's GPS. He's bad.

[January 18, 2009]

P's First Sleepover

Preston had his first sleep over in December [2008] with his friend Mycca. We weren't sure how he would do, since he's only ever slept over with family...but he said he was ready, so we let him.

When he woke up that morning, he woke up crying for us. Michelle (Mycca's mom) calmed him down and they got some breakfast together and everything. In a little bit he walked up to her and said, "I wasn't crying for my mom and dad. Actually, I was crying because I couldn't find my motorcycle."

...riiiiight... :)

The Hulk

So, for Preston's birthday last year, or the Christmas before that - I can't remember - my brother got him some Hulk gloves (pictured above). Preston thought these things were great...when you smash them into something they talk and roar like the Hulk. He used to wear them around the house, and it was like he had dual personalities. If the gloves were on, he'd talk in a deep, gravelly voice, like the Hulk...but the second they came off, he was normal Preston. He was an absolute PRO and switching between the two. Here is an example of a conversation:

Hulk P: (growling) Mom, can I have some juice.

Me: Sure, here you go.

(gloves come off so he can hold the glass)

Normal P: thanks mom. (drinks and put's gloves back on)

Hulk P: I'm going to play in my room. (runs off)

So, one day we're going into his room to get dressed for bed, and he gasps as he looks at his train table. The track is all smashed up, trains are everywhere, the table is in complete disarray. Since his cousins and friends had been over playing, I just assumed they got a little zealous at the train table, and "rearranged" the tracks.

P: (very serious) Mom, do you see my trains?

Me: Yep. Did you and your cousins mess them up?

P: No.

Me: Are you sure about that?

P: No mom, we didn't do it...but I know who did.

Me: Who?

P: The Hulk.

Me: The Hulk...really...

P: Yep. He got mad, and yelled "HULK SMASH" and he smashed all my trains up, and that's why he is BAD.

Me: Was the Hulk actually Preston wearing the hulk gloves?

P: No mom, it was the real Hulk. He shouldn't come over anymore.

The conversation continued for a minute more, me questioning his honesty and him completely insisting that the real Hulk smashed up his train table. I figured I'd let it go, and eventually just told him that the next time the Hulk wanted to smash up toys, Preston should come get me first. He agreed that the Hulk needed a time out, and went to bed. The Hulk hasn't smashed up anything since then...

Get your tennis shoes!

One day Preston and I were rushing to leave the house, and I asked him to go and get his tennis shoes so that I could put them on. He said okay, and I went to finish gathering things. I walked back through the living room a few times, and each time he still didn't have his tennis shoes; instead, he was watching tv. So a little more stern, each time I walked through I told him to go and get his tennis shoes, and each time he said okay, and each time I walked back through he was standing there watching tv.

A few minutes later, he still didn't have any shoes. I stopped and looked at him, and very sternly said, "Preston Michael, I said go get your tennis shoes, and I mean right NOW. We have to go!"

"I did mom! Right here!" He held up a handful of TISSUES....specifically, he held up one for each time I walked through and told him to go get his TENNIS SHOES.

That's when it dawned on me that he called tissues, tennis shoes; and he had, in fact, got his "tennis shoes" each time I asked him to.

Naptime...

This happened for a few weeks...

Grilled Cheese anyone?

Me: Preston, how about we have a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch.

P: No.

Me: Why? You love cheese, and I'll put butter on the bread, and cook it, and it will be SO good.

P: No.

Me: Well, here's the deal. I'm making grilled cheese for lunch, and you can eat it or not. I don't really care, that's what we're having.

P: I don't LIKE it, Mommy.

Me: Yes you do. You'll love it.

P: (getting very upset and about to cry) But I don't want a girl cheese sandwich, I want a BOY cheese sandwich.

To this day, we are still not allowed to refer to grilled cheese sandwiches as anything but boy cheese. Try explaining that to the waiter in a restaurant.
"Excuse me, please don't call it 'grilled cheese;' just humor us and say 'boy cheese.' Otherwise, he won't eat it."

Potty-Training

When you’re potty training a child, you will pretty much try anything that sounds legitimate…and in those very desperate moments, even some things that don’t; which is exactly how this story happened.

As Preston got closer and closer to three years old, Albert and I got more and more frustrated about the potty training thing. We had #1 pretty much under control, but we could NOT get him to #2. (I know, these are things you love to hear.)
One night, my sister and her husband joined us for dinner at our house. My sister had been telling me for weeks about her a co-worker that potty trained her son by keeping his diaper off until he would finally go in the potty. Apparently, kids won’t poop into thin air. I was vehemently denying the use of this method. I was the mother, which also meant I was the one that got to clean up that idea when it failed…and it WOULD fail. So, after dinner, I took Preston to the restroom and left Albert to entertain our guests for what I knew would be an eternity of making Preston sit on the toilet until he pooped. I knew he had to, I knew eventually it had to happen, and we were trying the “wait it out” method. You know, the one where you sit in the bathroom floor with them for hours on end with the theory that, eventually, it WILL happen; unless, apparently, your child is Preston.
After an eternity (probably about 10 minutes) of waiting on the bathroom floor for nothing, my sister decides to get involved and start pushing her theory again. (I see now where she was coming from; catch me while I’m weak.)
The idea is this: When you know your kid has to go to the bathroom (read: poop), you take his diaper off. And leave it off. Apparently, your kid will cry and ask for the diaper so that they can go potty where it’s comfortable for them, but you’re supposed to resist until they eventually concede and use the toilet. Parenting eventually becomes a battle of wills, so the whole “force them to concede” idea sounded legitimate; however, I was skeptical because we’re talking about the kid that figured out how to manipulate the time out system (more on that later). So, I came up with a solution…if Steph wanted to be the one to clean up the mess when it happened, I would let her try her method. She agreed.
So, Preston’s diaper came off, and he came off the toilet. The boys were a little freaked, because he was running around the house with his package hanging out and swinging everywhere. It was cracking me up because all I could think about was the time I had mice (long story, completely unrelated to this) and it seemed like every time they did it (which was all the time) the boys nuts got bigger and bigger until they would drag the ground, or your arm. Anyway, I probably could have got him a longer shirt, but I was too busy laughing at the idea of this whole situation, and my sisters continual insistence that he would NOT poop into thin air.
I should digress for a minute to explain “continual insistence.” She spent the better part of 20 minutes repeating over and over, “A kid will NOT shit into thin air, it’s impossible. People can not DO that. You can’t just stand there and take a dump! It will NOT happen, he WILL have to go to the toilet…its fool-proof.” I spent the better part of 20 minutes laughing hysterically and not saying anything at all. I knew better; I know my child.
So, Preston is running around the house, happy as a clam and free as a bird, literally, when he comes flying through the room and stops dead in his tracks. I know that look. He glances and me, and then my sister, who at this point has STOPPED insisting that he will NOT poop into thin air, and back at me. As I start to yell, “RUN TO THE TOILET!” it happens. A big turd hits the floor, followed by a stream of pee and the most bewildered expression I’ve ever seen him have. (I should mention, before I go on, that I didn’t realize the look on his face until after the following occurred; at which time I felt HORRIBLE mom guilt and was sure my child would be scarred for life.) In the moment, I could do nothing to hold back the belly aching laughter that exploded…actually, no one could; we all hit the floor laughing. 10 seconds into it, I composed myself enough to stand up and go get him. As I walked over to grab his hand and lead him to the bathroom, he looks down and blurts out, “Look at that giant alligator, Mom!”

Ten minutes later, when the laughter had subsided and the mess was clean (by Steph, as promised) I realized that he was probably scared to death when he started pooping into thin air, and he might have thought we were laughing at him. Since you can’t really explain that to a 2 year old, I let it go and we avoided potty training for a few weeks. Later, I was reassured he’d be fine when he told me he, “had to go put the alligators in the toilet this time,” the next time he tried to poop.

The beginning...

So, I guess I should consider this the beginning of the end. My little boy is growing up, fast, and so I decided to keep record on the funny things he says and does. He'll probably hate me when he's older for it, but I wanted to preserve those moments that made me almost pee my pants. :) I hope that my writing talent grants me the ability to write the stories as funny as they actually were. Enjoy - I know I will.