Parenting 101: The Funny Stuff

Artistic License

2012-02-09T13:40:00.003-06:00

As if a comment is necessary, I think it's important to note that this is (ironically) a Dallas Cowboy who just made a touchdown...I would say from personal perspective an earlier era - oh, 1990's.
AND since I forgot to grab the ACTUAL picture from the restaurant table (shame), this is the last...so many puns.

Crackers of All Kinds

2011-12-30T17:00:00.000-06:00

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:

2011-12-24T13:29:00.000-06:00

"I just snarkled when I laughed!"

Hotel California

2011-12-24T13:27:00.000-06:00

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.

2011-12-08T11:54:00.002-06:00

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

2011-12-06T11:43:00.001-06:00

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...

2011-12-05T11:39:00.000-06:00

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.

2011-12-01T12:08:00.002-06:00

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

2011-12-01T11:25:00.007-06:00

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...

2011-12-01T11:22:00.002-06:00

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...

2011-11-28T12:08:00.000-06:00

"Everything on TV. For boys."

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

Baseball

2011-10-21T10:34:00.003-05:00

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.

2011-10-20T10:50:00.001-05:00

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...

2011-06-23T09:08:00.002-05:00

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

2011-06-16T13:13:00.002-05:00

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

2011-06-16T13:06:00.004-05:00

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...

2011-06-16T13:05:00.002-05:00

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.

2010-07-20T11:14:00.001-05:00

We bought Preston an alarm clock on Sunday. It was at his request, even though I've been considering the idea for a while. Sunday night, his last words before I closed his door were, "I can't WAIT for my alarm at 7 in the morning." My last thoughts were, "Yeah, we'll see how long THAT lasts."

Preston unplugged and threw his alarm clock on the couch this morning. Apparently, he doesn't want it anymore.

The Quest for Turtle

2010-07-16T11:56:00.003-05:00

So, it's been no secret that life in these parts has been less than - friendly. The fit throwing and tantrums have had me closer to the looney bin than I've ever been in my life. And yet, somehow in all the chaos, once again Albert finds a solution.

Preston has a responsibility chart. He's got about 7 things that he has to do in a day, and he gets a smiley for each day that he does it. The original ~~bribe~~ reward was money. He loves money to buy junk. I love good behavior. It's a working relationship. Anyway, apparently he doesn't love money as much as I love good behavior, because that only worked for a week. (I should note that my son is the master manipulator of "systems." If I haven't already blogged about time outs, I will later.)

The other night, after a particularly terrible fit at the dinner table and the subsequent talk, all three of us are snuggled on the couch to watch tv (his choice) for the only 15 minutes of free time Preston has before bed. It was Wonder Pets, which if you don't have children to have been ~~tortured~~ blessed by this programing, is about three school pets that save animals in danger during after hours. All non-chalant, Albert asks Preston if he could have one of those three animals as a pet, which would it be? (FYI, the choices are a duckling, a hamster and a turtle.) Without hesitation, Preston says turtle. And then my husband, whom I love dearly, leaves me somewhere between fainting and stabbing when he responds, "Well, if you can get all the smiley's on your chart for 4 weeks in a row, I'll get you a turtle." (In retrospect, I realized how HARD 4 weeks IN A ROW would actually be, and it seems like a pretty good deal. 28 days to break a habit, people.)

Anyway, I'm rambling, and all of this lead up is really for one tiny question that I got this morning on the way to his friend's house. We're having our morning discussion about not being upset and throwing a fit when I leave, because I have to go to work - and for once, he agrees to be calm about the situation. And after a slight pause, he poses this question:

"Mom, when I get a turtle, THEN what if I throw a fit?"

Great. So the post-turtle era is already in planning. Don't even try to convince me 5 year olds aren't dictators.

More talk of being a Daddy

2010-07-09T12:19:00.001-05:00

I've blogged before of Preston's desire to be a daddy here.

We had dinner with my grandparents last night, and Preston told my grandma:

"I wish Albert would go to Heaven so I could hurry up and be a Daddy."

Recent Funny #3

2010-07-01T13:09:00.002-05:00

Last night, we got a lovely rendition of "Farmer in the Dell." I never knew the farmer picked a "life," but he did sing all the way through to the cheese standing alone. :)

Recent Funny #2

2010-07-01T13:05:00.002-05:00

Preston went for his 5 year check up on Tuesday. He had been freaking out for a week anytime it was mentioned because he didn't want any shots. On Tuesday, he forgot about the doctor and thought I was picking him up for one of our dates. You can imagine his dismay.

So, I had to drag him, literally, out of the car. Drag him into the building. Drag him into the office. Threaten to beat him senseless if he opened that door and took off running. Drag him into the back when they called his name.

The nurse did a great job of calming him down as she weighed and measured him. I thought we were past the panic, because he was laughing and cutting up with her. That's when she said, 'Okay Preston, follow me" and headed left. Preston calmly turned right, and walked back to the front office, and headed for the door. Where I caught him and drug him back to the back.

She caught us in the hall and assured him he didn't need any shots. He was fine after that.

Recent Funny #1

2010-07-01T13:03:00.002-05:00

Preston was playing with my phone about a week ago, when he notified me that I needed to "get a phone that you can do this" - and demonstrated rubbing his thumb up the side of my Blackberry screen. "You can even TOUCH THE SCREEN, Mom!"

He's going to die when his aunt get's her new iPhone.

Not much funny...

2010-07-01T12:56:00.003-05:00

So, I haven't posted in a while. There isn't much "funny" going around our house right now. I'm sure there actually IS, but Preston and I are, and have been, at a difficult cross-road and I haven't been paying as much attention to the funnies. I realize that means there is probably an even BETTER reason to post. I, however, have told Albert a number of times that I resign from parenting - so maybe it's HIS job to post. For now.

Preston turned 5 on Sunday. I can't believe it. I'll post the few recent funnies today...if you're not me, he's still the most adorable sweetheart ever.

2010-04-12T16:11:00.000-05:00

Me: do you know what "infinity" actually means?

P: It's God's number.

Easter

2010-04-06T16:02:00.001-05:00

The Easter bunny brought Preston some Ben 10 "action fingers."

Good Friday

2010-04-02T09:11:00.002-05:00

P: Mom, how did Miss Holly know that today would be a good Friday?

The Cool Guy Club

2010-04-02T08:58:00.003-05:00

So Albert and I have this thing (inside joke, I guess) with my brother-in-law and his wife about calling each other the cool guy whenever someone screw something up. For example: "Man, you guys are late!" will be responded to as "thanks to the COOL GUY" and point to...Ruben, usually. It's possible you won't get how incredibly funny all of this actually is, but I know at least 3 other people out there that will think it's the funniest thing on the planet...so I deemed it blog-worthy.

Anyway, it's an ongoing joke; except, I don't think I realized how OFTEN we said it, until after this conversation Wednesday afternoon.

P and his best friend are in the back seat discussing a Capt. America comic book I got at the Air Force base, when I hear Preston say that they gave it to him. So, I turned around to interceed in the conversation:

Me: They gave it to WHO?

P: Me...the cool guy.

I've been awful...

2010-03-09T18:26:00.004-06:00

Which is very sad, because P has been HILARIOUS. He thinks he's so grown up. I'm going to try harder to update...promise

In the meantime, here is a picture from his hour at school with me this afternoon. It's the second time in 2 weeks he's been able to come and hang out before Albert picks him up. We went to the "big room" (Palo Duro Lounge) and he looks at me and says, "wanna continue talking about halloween?" I was confused, because we hadn't mentioned halloween the entire time, so I asked him what he meant. Eye roll, "Mom, we talked about it in this room last time. Wanna talk about it some more? Go ahead. You start."

Uh, okay.

Quote of the month...

2010-01-17T20:09:00.001-06:00

"because I'm almost 5, mom."

Variation: "I am grown up, I'm about to be 5, mom. Five is grown up."

His birthday is in June.

Krispie Kreme Donuts

2010-01-17T20:03:00.002-06:00

P: Mom, we should go to Krispie Kreme. (The same statement I get every morning we pass it.)

Me: You should tell grandma to take you to Krispie Kreme.

P: No mom, we should go as a family. We should all go and get donuts. Because you have to go, and you have to wait outside for a long time, and then, when they turn on the light it tells you 'Come and get them, they're hot donuts' and you go in and you get a donut.

Me: P, you should really ask grandma. I don't even really like Krispie Kreme donuts.

P: (in the exact tone I use) Mom, you should really try things, you never know what you're missing.

Me: Oh, well, if I try Krispie Kreme are you going to start trying the things I ask you to try?

P: Mom, Krispie Kreme is sooooo good. And it's just krispies and kreme. Because, you see, they take the kreme, and they melt it and then they pour it over the krispie. See? It's so good, and they cook the donuts and they pour the melted kreme over the donuts and then, after a while it gets all krispie and then you have Krispie Kreme! And it's really good, and you should try just a tiny bite because you will like it because it's just krispie and kreme.

Cheaterleaders

2010-01-17T19:59:00.003-06:00

It's been a long time since I posted, so I'm going to try and update with the stories I keep telling myself over and over so I'll remember to post them.

Preston and Albert were talking over dinner last night. Since Preston is "about to be 5" he thinks he's grown, and has decided he wants to play football. Albert and him were going to practice outside, and they were talking about...well, I wasn't really listening when Preston looked at me across the room and said, "And mom, YOU can be the cheaterleader!"

The Mud Run...

2009-11-09T14:19:00.002-06:00

We did the Mud Run this weekend. If you don't know, it's exactly what it sounds like. It's a 5k run/Marine obstacle course - and it's awesome.

They have a kids race. I didn't sign P up - anyone who knows him, knows he hates to get dirty. He won't even finger paint. Wouldn't you know - he wanted to do it. Baaaaaad. Unfortunately, we couldn't register him AT the event, so he'll have to wait until next time.

Me: Babe, they won't let us sign you up today - so we're going to have to wait until next time to do it. I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd wanna get dirty and muddy.

P: But I do. (sad face)

Me: I know, and I'm sorry. Maybe me and daddy can set up some obstacles for you, and you can be practicing - does that sound good?

P: Yeah. (pause) You mean with mud, right?

Me: Uh, yeah. We'll see what we can do about that...

What's your favorite?

2009-11-06T20:15:00.000-06:00

(holding up a red and a blue crayon)

P: Mom, which one is your favorite and do you want to use? (pause) But not this one, because I'm going to use it.

Applebee's

2009-11-06T20:14:00.000-06:00

(pulling into the Applebee's parking lot)

Mom, do they have apples at Applebee's?

(They do. He asked.)

What your kids say when you aren't listening...

2009-10-21T17:23:00.004-05:00

On the way home today...

(talking to his friend Dylan, in the car)
P: I don't want to talk anymore, I just wanna sit back and watch the rain fall.

(passing the vacuum store on Cooper)
P: Dylan, will you buy me one of those when you get bigger? (Yes.) Which one should I get? The green one?

(passing Putt Putt)
P: Dylan, that's where my grandpa and me used to go. You know my grandpa? The bald-headed one? We used to go there.

(just driving, right before spotting the Charger)
P: Let's play superheros. I'll be the bad guy and you be the good guy. (I don't want to play that.) Me either.

(just spotted the lime green Dodge Charger)
P: Dylan, instead of that other thing, will you buy me one of THOSE? (Yeah!) Will you steal it for me? While they are sleepin? You can be a little sneaker and drive it over to my house. (I can't drive!) When you get bigger! Will you steal it though? (Yeah!) Good!

(passing the grocery store)
P: Dylan, will you steal everything out of that store? (Yeah.) Woo hoo! Go Dylan!

2009-10-12T09:27:00.005-05:00

We bought Preston's halloween costume this weekend -Snake Eyes from GI Joe.

He's a ninja. Preston loves ninjas. Of course, he wanted to try it on. I figured he wouldn't go for it , the costume has a full face covering, and he's really not that big on masks. He loved it. LOVED. IT.

Loved it so much, he wanted to wear it out of the dressing room.

Do you know how hard it is to convince those stores to let your 4 year old wear a costume out of the dressing room? It's hard...but not impossible. :) We got the costume home, without taking it off. He looks super cute in it - and that's not even the best part.

Snake Eyes is a ninja that took a vow of silence. P knows this, because he and Albert went to see the movie; I, on the other hand, had no idea. So when P is sitting practically silent unless forced to answer, I start wondering what's going on. The kid said 10 words over an hour time period - and he was bouncing off the walls hyper before he put the costume on. I suppose it's similar to that week around Halloween last year that he made us refer to him as Tony Stark when he wasn't wearing his Iron Man costume...either way, I love this costume, too. :)

I'm brown. You're brown. We're all brown...except for you.

2009-10-10T20:00:00.000-05:00

Teeball team pictures came in on Saturday.

P: I like him (Albert) and him (BFF-Dylan), but no one else.

Me: What?! Why?

P: Because they are different from me, and I don't like people that are different.

Me: Um, how are they different?

P: I'm brown. They aren't brown, so they are different, so I don't like them.

Me: (momentarily speechless) Uh, I'm not sure why you don't like people that are different, because we learn cool stuff from people that are different from us - but honey, Dylan is definitely NOT brown.

P: Yes, he is. I'm brown. Daddy is brown. Dylan is brown. No one else is brown, so I don't like them.

Me: Um, K***** is brown.

P: (inspecting picture) He's not looking at the camera, so he's different. That's why I don't like him.

Me: I think it's really bad that you're judging people for being different from you, but babe, you like a lot of people that are NOT brown. Grandma isn't brown. Duckie isn't brown. Aunt Steph isn't brown....

P: Yes, they are. (starts naming everyone he likes) They are ALLLLL brown.

Me: Preston, all of those people are not brown. Look at Dylan's picture - he is NOT brown.

P: (looking) Yes, he is.

This is a picture of Preston and Dylan...

I realize the color is a little bad, but you can tell - Dylan is NOT brown. His mom will even tell you - he's practically albino. Dylan has a TAN LINE in this picture (of course, you can't see it) - so that's about as brown as D will ever get.

I'm not sure where he's picking all of this up from - but I'm not sure I even know what it means with the albino is a brown kid.

So, this is what I'm paying for...

2009-09-18T09:12:00.004-05:00

"Mom, did you know we have guts? And we have little teeth in our throat to chew up our food for us. And our food goes into our stomach, and our body takes out all of the vitamins, and it goes through our intes...intest....guts, and then we poopie. (uncontrollable giggling) Isn't that funny, Mom? I said we poopie from our guts! (abrupt seriousness)And, if we squeeze someone, we'll squish their guts. (pause) Mom, do you have guts? ('Yes') I don't think you do."

It was body week at school.

Sick Days

2009-09-07T17:05:00.000-05:00

P: (coughs) Mom, I have a very bad cough.

Me: Yeah baby, I know. It's allergies.

P: Mom, tomorrow when it's a school day, I can not go to school because I have a very bad cough

Me: Well, if you have a really bad cough for tomorrow, then you probably can't go swimming at Uncle Michael's today...

P: No Mom, it will only bother me tomorrow.

Monkey See...

2009-08-28T09:40:00.002-05:00

So, one of the kids in Preston's class is allergic to - I don't remember what - but since P found out you could be allergic to things, he's been trying really hard to find something he's allergic to.

Yesterday, Preston came home from school talking about how he couldn't eat oranges because they make his mouth burn, and he's allergic.

My grandpa buys Preston those little clementine oranges that he can peel himself by the BOX LOAD; and Preston will eat orange after orange after orange until you MAKE him stop. He is absolutely NOT allergic to oranges.

I just had to call the school, because Preston convinced them that he is allergic to oranges, and can't eat them anymore.

Ask and ye shall receive...usually

2009-08-28T08:31:00.000-05:00

So, yesterday I posted a blog about how UNFUNNY Preston is being. Actually, that's not true. The other day he was in some serious trouble at my mom's house, and we were having a hard time not cracking up at his behavior. It REALLY was bad, but it was funny too. If you're a parent, you get it. If you're not at that stage, just wait. If you're not a parent, well, you're probably laughing at it all the time, so...

Anyway, this morning in the car, P was in a good mood...about everything but school.

P: Mom, I don't want to go to school.

Me: Why?

P: I don't like it.

Me: Why don't you like it?

P: I like trips.

Me: (laughing) Um, I do too, but how do you think mommy and daddy pay for trips? We have to go to work, and while we're at work, you have to go to school.

P: Well...I never see you work.

In case you ever check this blog...

2009-08-27T08:47:00.002-05:00

Preston isn't being so funny right now. More like a tyrant with a terrible temper. I have no idea where he gets that from - must be his dad. ;)

2009-07-13T09:25:00.001-05:00

"Mom, be careful. Don't hit the curb like daddy did."

I'm a turtle! I'm a turtle!

2009-07-12T20:10:00.000-05:00

We went to eat at Taco Bell after tball practice. Preston had been complaining of a stomach ache I was sure was hunger, but turned out to be gas. I was just relieved he didn't announce it to the restaurant. This time. Anyway, this is relevant, because his mood AFTER he felt better was about as silly as silly gets. At one point, he was dancing in his chair to the groovy 70's music playing. I'd describe it, but I couldn't do it justice.

He's been boogying in his seat for about 10 minutes when we're ready to go, so it's no surprise that he's dancing his way out the door. As Albert and I stop to throw away our trash, I notice he's standing at the front door, still dancing. That moment is about the time he breaks into a spin, drops to the floor, lays on his side with knees bent at a 90-degree angle, and alternates kicking his legs back and forth, al la "So You Think You Can Dance" intro-break dancing style. He then flips onto his stomach and is doing some sort of "snow angel-on-your-stomach" rendition. That's when Albert turns, and Preston looks up and realizes that we're both standing in the doorway of Taco Bell staring at him with incredulous faces.

You'd think he'd be embarrassed, stop, and stand up. No. No, not my child. MY child smiles this huge smile, and hams it up even more by yelling "I'm a turtle! I'm a turtle!" while flagrantly waving his arms and legs up and down. For at least 15 seconds. Ignoring the frantic "get UP off the floor" instructions, and feeding off the muffled laughter Albert and I are so desperately trying to contain. Because, you know, laying on the floor in Taco Bell and break dancing are some of those things that parent's are supposed to take seriously.

I asked him if he'd show me his turtle again when we got home, so I could sneak a picture for the site, but we forgot.

Team Sports: Apparently, they're out.

2009-07-07T07:38:00.003-05:00

Preston had his very first teeball practice last night. Putting it nicely, it did NOT go well. First, he wouldn't participate, so Albert called me over to talk to him. When I tried, he ran away from me. Bad move, so I put him in time out, off to the side where he wouldn't interfere with the other kids playing. Of course, long story short, this turned into a screaming fit. He was acting completely out of character; not listening, running from time out, screaming and throwing himself on the floor. All in front of brand new parents. My child is usually the good one. I'm not used to this behavior. It's embarrassing, so very embarrassing.

This isn't the story, it's not funny at all, so I'll skip all the details and go to this morning. By the time we got home last night Preston was grounded for 2 days, and I was taking one of his new Transformers away from him. So this morning, on the way to school, he asked:

(abbreviated version)
P: Mom, did you take one of my Transformers this morning?

Me: No, I haven't. Yet.

P: But Mom, I don't WANT you to take one!

Me: I know, but I warned you yesterday. You were so busy screaming and throwing a fit that you wouldn't listen to ANYTHING we were telling you. If you would have listened, you would have known.

P: (silence)

Me: You acted really bad yesterday. Really, really bad. You know the rules, and you were breaking ALL of them. You know that, right?

P: Yes, I know...(lots of conversation about teams, etc.) I want to play a sport by myself.

Me: Preston, there are no sports by yourself. Baseball has a team. Football has a team. Basketball has a team. Soccer has a team. All sports have a team.

P: (matter-of-factly) Well. I'll tell you a sport that is by myself. Golf.

Well, no way to really argue that one. So instead, I made a deal; he finishes this season of baseball, playing at practices and games and without throwing a fit, and when the season is over I'll sign him up for golf. Sometimes, he has an unarguable point.

2009-06-24T11:35:00.004-05:00

"Mom! We watched the movie cars, and now were playing collection! Look!"

Tornado in East tomorrow...Beware.

2009-06-22T11:22:00.000-05:00

P: Mom, there is a tornado in East tomorrow. Right?

Me: Um, there is?

P: Yeah. There is. It's a tornado. In East.

Me: Oh. Hmm. Well, where did you hear that?

P: Grandma's car told me. Through the speakers, you know? They said there is a tornado in East tomorrow.

Me: (chuckles) Oh, I see. Hmm, well that's interesting. I don't think I knew that.

P: Yeah, East is that way.

Me: Which way?

P: (points East, impressive) That way.

Me: That's good. You're actually exactly right.

P: I know. There is going to be a tornado tomorrow in East. And if there isn't a tornado in East, then we can drive that way. If there isn't a tornado. But Grandma's speakers said there would be a tornado in East, tomorrow, and so we can't drive to East if there is a tornado. But if there isn't a tornado in East, then we can drive there, right mommy? But there IS going to be a torndao in East, so we better not drive there. And the wind will blow and everything will be in circles, and we can't drive in East because there is a tornado. But if there isn't a tornado, then everything won't blow in circles, and we can drive, and so we can go to East.

(this talking in circles continued for, seriously I'm not exaggerating, a solid 2 minutes)

Me: Wow. That's a lot. I hope there isn't a tornado.

P: Yeah, but there will be. In East.

P's Solution to Life's Problems...

2009-06-05T09:31:00.002-05:00

(eating his morning fruit snack treat on the way to school today...)

"So, I think we should give everybody in the world fruit snacks, because it will just make them sooooo happy."

In case you hadn't heard...

2009-05-28T14:59:00.005-05:00

Preston got a dog. We "rescued" him (long story), and he's an absolute sweetie...when he's not being a pain in the rear; but that is pretty much the deal for everyone in our little family, so he fits in great. ;) We got him the Monday night before we left for Disney World (another long story), so we didn't have much bonding time before we left him for 8 days. Preston pretty much ignored that he had a dog while we were gone, but I don't blame him. Then, out of the blue, on the way home:

P: Mom, where is Malaki*?

Me: Um, at Duckie's. Remember, we took him there?

P: Well, when will he be home?

Me: We'll go get him once we get home.

P: I miss my doggie. (pause) I love him so much. (pause) He's my beeesssst friend.

Awww, sweet - I know, right? Except...he didn't ask about him one time for an entire week. Hey, the mouse is big competition.

Here is a pic of Malaki:P and Malaki: (it's kind of blurry, but they never sit still enough for a picture!)

And P and Malaki playing their favorite game:

As my friend Breanna put it, he's an adorable floor mop. Malaki will bring P the sock and he will just drag him all over the house! This picture was at Duckie's house - at least we have wood floors. ;)

* I don't know what your reference of Malaki is, but I am (now) aware (thanks to my husband) that Malaki is the evil kid in Children of the Corn, my sister used to teach a little terror named Malaki, and generally it's not a great name. BUT, Preston didn't want to change it. (I'm sorry Grandpa and Steph, I TRIED to push Peanut, but he said no way. His only other suggestion was Gunnar Peanut, and that was a big, fat NO.) So, Malaki is his name - and I prefer to think of the Malachi in the BIBLE ("Messenger of Angels" is what it means), instead of some demonized child. Albert thinks its funny to "demon call" him, and growl "Malaki," sounding like something out of the Exorcist. I'll admit that he does stiffen up and coming running a lot quicker...

Haircuts...

2009-05-04T08:37:00.003-05:00

Duckie gave Preston a mohawk when he got his hair cut yesterday.

Of course, all this means I had to recreate it this morning...

I'll give myself an A for effort. Dude, I don't do mohawks; braids, ponytails, curls? - Yes. Mohawks? Unfortunately, I was too busy being a pain in the rear to enter my punk-rock phase in high school.

Stitches are contagious...

2009-04-14T15:24:00.005-05:00

[Preston's Aunt] Stephanie's dog, Gunnar, was at Easter this weekend since they went and snipped his manhood that Friday, and he needed supervision. To say the least, Preston was excited, and the whole "I want a dog" conversation has been happening ever since. (I am proud though; when Steph told him to ask for a little sister, he adamantly disagreed that he'd rather have a dog. High five, kiddo!) Anyway, we had to - carefully - explain to him that Gunnar had to go to the doctor, and he had stitches to make him better and to be careful if you pick him up or something, because it might hurt him.

Anyway, he was running around outside while all of us, including Preston (not going there right now) were in the backyard, not unlike a bunch of rednecks, with a BB gun trying to shoot a plastic pipe in half. Of course we were concerned about shooting the dog - I learned after trying to shoot [Preston's Uncle] Brandon in the butt with the gun, that you don't point the gun at living things. Apparently, you may (or may not) accidentally pull the trigger. Unlikely, I know...but a strict gun safety rule anyway. The dog, however, wouldn't move when you yelled at him, because the cat poop he was trying to eat was more important. So, every time he ran in the way, one of us got up to chase him. (By "one of us," I mean someone other than myself.)

It was Preston's turn to get him. He was slowly following him around, waiting for his opportunity, when he looked back, disgusted, and said,

"Mom, I don't want to get stitches on me..." subconsciously rubbing his arms.

While hysterically laughing, I tried to explain that stitches weren't contagious. "It's like when you had a hole in your shirt, and mommy sewed it up so the whole was closed. Gunnar had a hole, and the doctor sewed the hole so it would be closed...it's just called stitches!"

He didn't look convinced, so I continued, "I promise baby, you can't get stitches."

"But, they're on his stummy, right?" He wasn't buying it at ALL. "Yes," I replied "but they CAN'T get on you."

P spent the next 5 minutes trying to pick up Gunnar without getting stitches on him.

*Note: I still don't think he believes us... (YOU try explaining it to a 3-year old!) he keeps making comments about stitches and being able to "get" them. I think he's testing to see if my answer stays the same. He also checks his arms every time they come up...

Monster Trucks and Cheaters

2009-04-07T11:37:00.002-05:00

I lied. I posted nothing funny over the weekend, but that's only because P has been a little slow on the funny factor. Until Sunday...

My stepdaughter came over Sunday to visit, and Preston absolutely adores her. They were outside playing with Albert, when someone got the idea to race monster trucks down the driveway. I'm not sure whose idea it was, it could just as easily have been Albert's as Prestons, but it was a good idea and P has PLENTY of monster trucks to go around.

So they are outside, lining up their trucks at the top of the hill, and letting them roll down in a race. (It was actually quite entertaining, and reminded me of racing hermit crabs from a vacation to Jamaica when I was younger.) I get the bright idea to grab the checkered flag, and play referee/announcer. We're having a good ole time, when Albert disappears inside and comes out with this giant monster truck. Obviously, it's going to win every time...the kids are playing with Hot Wheels sized trucks.

They run a few races, and at first it's funny that the big one keeps winning. Then, the kids start getting frustrated that no one can beat Albert's truck, and begin complaining that the cheater truck keeps winning. As the referee/announcer, I disqualify the big one from racing and push it to the side.

They run a couple more races with the little ones, when Preston heads down the hill to retrieve his trucks, and I see it. That lustful side glance at the big one; a sure fire win, while his truck has been turning every direction but DOWN the hill the last couple races.

He grabs the big truck and looks dead at his sister and dad and says, "I'm going to be the cheater."

He spent the next morning ride telling me about how he was the cheater, and he had the "cheatist" truck. I suppose we should have a conversation about cheating BEFORE he starts team sports...

Not a funny story about P.Mike...

2009-04-03T09:10:00.003-05:00

Below is an article I'm linking for some friends of mine that wouldn't otherwise have access to the information. It's a brief article run in the Fort Worth Start Telegram back in 2007, when the cancer treatment that could have potentially saved my aunt's life was beginning to gain notoriety. The project has since been placed back in "research" phase pending government grants (hopefully!), because private funding was harder to get than everyone thought.

It's not funny, and for that I apologize; but it's definitely a worthy cause, and worth taking a break for. And I promise, I'll try to post some funny stories this weekend to make up for it! :) The program is interesting and has showed great promise. Donations are still being accepted, and when the website is brought back up (when the $$'s get us closer to trials), I'll make sure I post again. Anyone interested in donating can send it to:

Sanjay Awasthi Cancer Research Fund
UNT Health Science Center Foundation
3500 Camp Bowie Boulevard, EAD 802
Fort Worth, Texas 76107-2699

UTA research is a potential lifesaver for cancer patients
Fort Worth Star-Telegram (TX) - Thursday, August 2, 2007
Author/Byline: O.K. CARTER, Star-Telegram Staff WriterEdition: TarrantSection: MetroPage: B2

Speak with University of Texas at Arlington cancer researcher and biochemistry professor Sharad Singhal and it's easy to come away with a conviction that you've just met one of the smartest guys on the planet.

Then turn around in the same lab and darned if there isn't another one, Sanjay Awasthi, full-time M.D./oncologist and somehow part-time biochemistry professor. Call it an intellectual tie.

Fortunately, all that brain power collaborates on research , a beneficial partnership for mankind. Their laboratory experiments with mice have stopped several types of cancer cold and in a hurry. Without harming the mice. They'll soon be ready to move on to higher-level exercises, including trials with people.

Their results have not gone without notice. The Arlington-based Cancer Research Foundation of North Texas has been providing annual five-figure grants for some time, so it would be interesting if the work of Singhal and Awasthi — they also collaborate with five other UT-Arlington and UT Medical Branch-Galveston scientists — turns out to be a significant breakthrough. If so, credit will have to be given to the ongoing support of the relatively small Cancer Research Foundation.

It's a simplification, but the Awasthi/Singhal research boils down to this: A protein called RLIP76 is a multidrug transporter that shows up in cancerous cells — a sort of molecular cell train. Its presence, Singhal says, kicks off " a toxic network of biochemical signals that promotes inflammation and cancer cell growth." Inhibit or deplete RLIP76, and the network of biochemical signals that result in cancer stops. The cancer dies. The patient lives.

"The cancer cells can't survive without RLIP76," Awasthi says. "Normal cells don't need RLIP76. I think it's potentially a breakthrough of major significance."

It hasn't come easy. Physician/professor Awasthi first became interested in a do-no-harm body chemistry approach to treating cancer as an undergraduate more than two decades ago.

Likewise it has been a long haul for Singhal, who began research with this particular murderous protein 19 years ago. His laboratory computer is filled with photographs of mice with implants of lung and colon cancers .

There are unlucky mice who receive no treatment, mice with conventional chemotherapy treatments, mice that receive the RLIP76 inhibitor and mice that receive the inhibitor plus conventional chemotherapy treatments.

Singhal radiates the enthusiasm of discovery as he clicks through computer photo files of mice receiving the most successful treatment strategy — a combination RLIP76 inhibitor and chemotherapy.

"Look!" he commands. Sure enough, the tumors disappear in days to a few weeks — in medical parlance a complete regression. For colon, lung or melanoma cancers it's a near miraculous outcome, though there are other types — breast cancer for example — that don't respond. But research is still being refined.

Mice, obviously, are not people. What's needed is for more animal research to be conducted, followed by human trials. And quickly.

Singhal and Awasthi are not unknowns. Their findings have been noted extensively in medical publications of LeadDiscovery, the National Institute of Environmental Health Services, the National Institutes of Health, the New England Journal of Medicine, the American Association for Cancer Research and Cancer Research Jo urnal. Other researchers now emulate their strategies. Their work and results are not secrets, but there's still a significant snag.

It's the usual one. Money. Their research has to be funded at a level that is far beyond the financial capability of the Cancer Research Foundation of North Texas.

Somebody needs to find them the needed buckets of research cash. And soon. It's a life-and-death deal. And maybe a future Nobel Prize deal.

O.K. Carter appears Tuesdays and Thursdays. 817-548-5428 okc@star-telegram.com
Caption: SHARAD SINGHAL
Index Terms: arl ; okcarter ; MAIN STREETRecord Number: 180093Copyright (c) 2007 Fort Worth Star-Telegram

*Always in memory of a wonderful aunt, mother, wife, and friend, Pamela Deese-11/14/2008

A Fish?!

2009-03-26T09:36:00.003-05:00

Preston has been spending a lot of nights in our bed. Albert and I are both kind of torn...we definitely enjoy the snuggles, but the knees to the ribs and kicks in the throat are uncomfortable, to say the least. Not to mention, there really isn't much room for 3 in a queen size bed. So, without upgrading (which we've definitely considered), it's probably time for us to start getting him into his own bed at least MOST nights. On many occasions, I get up my resolve before drifting off to sleep, only to be weakened by "but mommy, who will give me snuggles in my room?" and tears of "I just want to snuggle you and daddy" comments. Last night was no different. I've been hinting to Albert, reasoning that he's definitely the one that usually stands his ground against these kinds of things, to no avail; and when Daddy is saying it's okay - we're pretty much screwed.

This morning, I decided P and I would have a little chat about staying in his room. It's worked (for a few days) before...should work again...right?

Me: Preston, you REALLY need to start staying in your bed at night.

P: No, mommy.

Me: But you REALLY should sleep in there, at least most of the time.

P: No. I don't want to.

Me: Well, I'm probably going to take you back to your room some, because you REALLY need to sleep in your bed.

P: Well. If you don't let me come in, I'm going to put a fish in your bed.

Me: A what?!

P: If you don't let me in your bed, I'm going to put a fish in it.

Me: A fish.

P: mmmmm hmmmmm (very ghetto-like; as in "mm hmm, chew on that applesauce why don't ya...")

Me: So, if I don't let you sleep in my bed, you're going to put a FISH in it.

P: (again with the smart remark) mmmmm hmmmmmm.

Me: I see. And just where are you planning to get a fish from?

P: Walmart.

Me: Oh. Well, I'm probably going to put you in your bed tonight, so you might work on getting that fish.

P: Okay, but you're not going to like it.

Spikey like a Porcupine - Part 2

2009-03-18T10:08:00.004-05:00

So Duckie cut Preston's hair yesterday, and he tells her, "I want my hair spikey!" Being the good grandma that she is, she spikes his hair.

If I said he was excited, that would be an understatement. He spent every spare minute looking at himself in the mirror. We went to the store to get him some jeans, and he stood looking in the mirror. When there wasn't a mirror, he was touching them to make sure they were still there. He mentioned, like, eleventy billion times that he had spikes (all of which, I already know, since I was THERE and all).

He was disappointed there weren't spikes ALL over his head, but I think since I added more on top this morning, he'll be okay. I just feel sorry for his teacher, there is no way my son's not-really-spike-friendly hair is going to make it through naptime.

Here he is yesterday, cheesing for a picture of his spikes...

Spikey like a Porcupine

2009-03-17T19:31:00.001-05:00

Preston got sudden obsession with wearing his hair spikey last weekend. Obsessed, like, he wouldn't go to sleep because he was spiking his wet hair up and it kept falling back down. Preston doesn't exactly have spike-friendly hair. His hair grows sideways across his head, so much so, that we spent a good deal of time retraining his hair as a baby so that it didn't look like a comb over. Anyway, to move bedtime along, I told him we would get his hair cut and we would use some gel and make it spikey.

My approval of spikes made him very happy...for about 2 seconds. His face fell, and he looked at me with big, fearful eyes. "Mom, does gel hurt?" I assured him it didn't. Daddy uses gel, when mommy's hair is curly, it's because there is gel, gel is just sticky stuff that helps your hair stay where you want it...no pain. He seemed to believe me, and he went to bed.

So, we off to get his hair cut this afternoon, and the first thing he says is, "I want my hair spikey." Okay, you just have to tell Duckie that. He sits quietly in the back seat for a minute, "Mom, does gel hurt?"

"No baby, I told you. We all use gel, it doesn't hurt, you just rub it on your hair. It feels just like shampoo does, without the bubbles."

"Oh," he says, reluctantly, " but mom 'jail' is where all the bad people go and get locked up!"

Listening Skills

2009-03-04T10:22:00.000-06:00

A little background, Albert and I have recently been having some SERIOUS issues with P wanting to listen to and/or do anything we say. I realize it's an age thing - he wants to do what he wants on HIS schedule; which is exactly why the other night, 15 minutes after I told him dinner was ready and he told me he wasn't eating, he came to the table to eat. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry, he just wanted to eat when HE decided it was time.

As a positive to this whole situation, he's still very concerned about whether or not we're sad at him. (I always say we're sad, never mad - I feel like that's a better representation of most situations.) Anyway, he usually doesn't misbehave for too long, and once he finally complies - on his own time, but complies - it's not usually very long before he's making sure you aren't still sad at him.

Moving on, I've come to the decision that I'm going to stop doing so many extra things for P, reminding him that for me to do things he wants, he is going to have to start helping me do things I want. Good plan, right?

Well, it went into effect when the book fair came to his preschool. He ALWAYS suckers me into a book; more because I love books and think every kid should have a ton, than because I'm a sucker. But I told him Monday, if you can listen and help and act nice, then on Friday I'll come buy you a book. We didn't even make it to the parking lot.

So this morning, we're actually running on time because he was VERY good this morning, and he asks to look at the books. I say sure, but remind him we're NOT buying one. He points out all the books he wants to get - next time; and then figures out I will not waiver and decides he's done looking.

As we walk off to go to his class, I tell him that if he can use his listening skills and start doing what we ask him to do, maybe next time the book fair comes he can get a book.

And he exclaims, "Mom, I found them! In my room!"

"Found what...your listening skills?" I ask. And he looks back at me, so proud and smiling, "Yes!"

Creeper...

2009-02-27T11:48:00.000-06:00

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

2009-02-13T08:21:00.000-06:00

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

2009-02-10T20:53:00.000-06:00

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

2009-02-09T22:28:00.000-06:00

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!

2009-02-08T09:34:00.000-06:00

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...

2009-02-08T08:54:00.000-06:00

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

2009-02-08T08:43:00.000-06:00

(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

2009-02-05T09:43:00.000-06:00

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

2009-02-05T09:14:00.000-06:00

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!

2009-02-05T08:08:00.000-06:00

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...

2009-02-04T10:05:00.000-06:00

This happened for a few weeks...

Grilled Cheese anyone?

2009-02-04T09:53:00.001-06:00

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

2009-02-04T09:42:00.000-06:00

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...

2009-02-03T15:21:00.000-06:00

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.