Crackers of All Kinds

At JCPenny's -

P: Mom! Look at all the Christmas stuff! It's on SALE!!
Me: Yep, very pretty.
P: Can I have some?
Me: Some what?
P: Some Christmas stuff!
Me: No.
P: But look at the giant nut crackers! I loooove nut crackers.
Me: I know, but you already have two...a small one and a big one. I think that's enough nut crackers.
P: [walking over to a 3ft tall snowman nut cracker] Yes. But I don't have any SNOW crackers.

And I quote:

"I just snarkled when I laughed!"

Hotel California

We visited my sister in CA over Christmas break. Their apartment complex is really nice. They have indoor entrances, live on the bottom floor across from the gym, and have a vending machine just down the hall. Preston refered to their home as the hotel all weekend. I'm pretty sure he still thinks they live in one, even though we tried to explain it was an apartment.

Preston: [giggling] I'm such a break-up.

Me: Huh? [pause] You mean "crack-up"?

Preston: [giggling exactly the same as before] I'm such a crack up.

He didn't even acknowledge that I corrected him, until Albert and I started cracking up about it. Or breaking up about it...whichever. :)

Preston's Outfit Today

An argyle-print, black v-neck sweater - with bright blue, red, and gray diamonds in the print.

Navy windpants with a grey and white stripe down the side.

Green camo rain boots.

Whatever, dude.

Duh...

Preston: I had chicken wings for lunch today at school.

Albert: You did? What was on them?

Preston: Meat.

Albert: Yeah, but what was ON them?

Preston: CHICKEN!

Albert: I know THAT! What kind of sauce or flavor?

Preston: Oh. Nothing. Just meat and chicken.

Preston and I will be spending 19 consecutive days off work and school later this month. I imagine I'll have plenty of blogging material...

Days of Shame

I can't believe I'm blogging this story, I'm so embarassed by it...

Preston is spoiled. ROTTEN. By everyone. It really doesn't matter what actions I take to remedy the situation, because he'll tell you straight up if I don't get it, daddy will. If daddy won't, Grandma/Grandpa/Ducky/Papa D/Granddad/Aunt Steph/Uncle Chris/Tia Suzy....you get the point; there is a whole back-up list...

So, Tia Suzy took Preston with her the other day. It was cold, he was under-dressed (thanks, dad), and he came home with 2 bubble whistles and a coat; later, I heard about how the day really went down...

Preston: Tia Suzy, I want that.

Tia Suzy: Ok!

Preston: Tia, I want that, too.

Tia Suzy: Ok! (a little later) P are you cold? You want a jacket?

Preston: [teeth chattering] No. I'm fine.

Tia Suzy bought the coat anyway. (THANK YOU!)

Preston: Tia, I want that.

Tia Suzy: No, Preston. You have enough stuff.

Preston: [yelling] You're AWFUL! You're just AWFUL. You won't buy me ANYTHING I want. You're awful, Tia Suzy! You won't buy me [insert item just seen here, and repeat]

[screeching record sound] WHAT?!

That's right. He called her awful. A bunch. Loudly. In public. Because she wouldn't buy him MORE stuff than she already had. I asked him about it. Asked him why he thought it was okay to say those things about his Tia when she had already bought bubbles and toys and a coat. You know what he said to me? "I didn't ask for the coat, she just bought it." For her part, Tia Suzy just laughs because she thinks it's funny.

And so, the story is told. It's a part of the vast, never-ending, always there world wide web...and I'll tell you why, in all my embarassment and shame, I blogged it. One day, many years from now, my grandchildren will be about 6 years old and Preston will be sitting on my couch begging me to stop buying them stuff so they can learn to appreciate everything they have...and I will sit, and smile, and google.

FYI...

Fangs are not, in fact, called "fangs" - it's "VANGS." So says Preston.

On the other hand, P's reading is getting so good...and adorable. The other day he read me "The Story of the Three Bears" - WITH voices. :)

For all of you asking what P wants for Christmas...

"Everything on TV. For boys."

It's a direct quote, folks. Take it to the bank.

Baseball

So, Preston is playing little league. At least for now - "it's boring." Dad and I are PRAYING he stays in it, because he's SO FUNNY.

He spent one entire game sliding to every. single. base. All of them. Whether the ball was close or not. I guess he decided that he wasn't so great at sliding - that, or it hurt - because he hasn't slid in a while.

We've spent the entire season telling him to watch the ball. Even when it's not near you, watch the ball. A week ago, he learned WHY - the hard way. Yes, his outfielder threw the ball to the infield. Preston was covering second, but not watching. *thwack* Smack in the temple. He rag-dolled to the floor. I was worried, but at the same time, I know how hard his head is. After the game (he sat out the rest of it), he said, "This is why I don't want to play baseball. I do NOT LIKE GETTING HURT." -- I guess football is out.

And last Saturday, he was epic. P usually gives us a big thumbs up with a cheesey grin every time he does something good. So anytime he's batting, I always watch at first base to give him a thumbs up back. So he hit. And he ran. And he stands on base. And I'm thinking, where is my thumbs up?? And then, it happens. He throws up "the cobra" (which a quick search revealed is probably a duck, but he thinks its a cobra and we'll go with him on this one).

So, now the question is: how do we get a future Ranger to keep playing little league? Because he's good...and WAY too much fun to watch.

Preston is destined to be a short distance sprinter. The kid is FAST. Real fast. And he only has two speeds - walking or sprinting.

He ran in his school's fundraiser today, and I tried to tell him to pace himself because he needed to run as MANY laps as possible to raise the MOST money. Of course, he took off like a jet, and ran the whole lap at full speed. A few laps later, I was walking with him and he said, "Mom, did you see me take off on the first lap?" *cheesey grin*

"Yes, I did. You were SO fast."

*serious face* "I know. My heart burst. When I run that fast, my heart bursts. It really does."

Recriprocating the most serious face I can muster, "It does? Wow. How are you even alive?"

"It's just a runner thing."

And with that, he takes off running. 19 laps in 30 minutes - almost 2.5 miles. Kudos, kiddo...it's DEFINTELY a runner thing.

Boulders...

Preston is obsessed with sharp things on his body. Nails. Hair. His vampire teeth.

This morning I left my little wallet with a mirror in it on the table. He found it during breakfast and spent most of breakfast time staring at his vampire teeth to make sure they were still sharp.

"Mom, guess what? I'm not chewing with my boulders, you know why? I'm chewing with my vampire teeth."

Some words are just too cute to correct. I just might be the parent of a 12 year old that still rides the "elligator", or visits the "jagwaters" at the zoo.

Camp is more fun than work

Preston is attending camp this summer at one of the recreation centers. It's been great so far. This morning, Preston decided to point out how much BETTER camp was, than work.
"Mom, what do you do at work?" Funny you should comment how much better it is, when you have no idea what I do all day..."work!" I respond. Heavy sigh, "I know you work, but what KIND of work?" I explain that I do accounting, which means I make sure all the money and numbers are right. "How much money do you have?" -- the "in the millions" response got a jaw-drop, and the conversation is over.

As we're gathering up stuff, I ask him if he eats lunch on swim days at camp, or at the pool. He says he's already told me, so I admit I've forgotten the answer. So he says,
"At camp, Mom. We eat at CAMP. At camp. At camp. At camp. At camp."
"Ok! I get it," I respond, to which he retorts that he doesn't want me to forget again. As we're headed out the door he says,
"Mom, can you please bend down." I do, and he begins banging the side of my head (softly enough) saying, "get the numbers out. get the numbers out."
"What was that for!"
"I want you to get the numbers out so you won't forget that I eat lunch AT CAMP!"

Oy.

Public Education

I took Preston to Half-Priced books Monday. The reason is - well, we bribed him for the chance at a funny video. The video was worth $5...I figure it'll be priceless in about 10 years.

Anyhow, prior to the excursion, I steel myself for what this will be - a long, drawn-out process of book choosing because "they do not have enough books," when in actuality they have too many. We get there, and the store is rearranged, so he spends 5 minutes insisting we're not in the kids section (surrounded by Curious George and dino books), while I try to get him to understand the meaning of "half-pint books" on the sign. Thank you, Half-Priced Books for your charm and wit...however, it does not help when pacifiying a 5 year old.

Anyway, I finally learn that Preston "isn't into fiction" because "it's just not his thing." As he sits on the floor perusing the dino books, in NON-fiction, he casually comments, "I am NOT getting that Presidents book." -- huh? Looking around I realize we're also near the history books, which he is normally very interested in, so I ask why. "Because I do NOT like Presidents." -- Why? "Because they are boring and they talk too much."

So, this is what you get when you force kindergardeners to watch the State of the Union address. Just sayin'.

Oh man...

When I came on to blog the funny thing P did this morning, I didn't realize it's been almost a year since the last time I posted any of his funnies. This blog isn't going to work the way I want it if I don't get (and stay) on the ball.

I'll do better. Ish.