Wednesday, July 15, 2015

It's day four of the Dodge Caravan Hostage crisis of 2013. And frankly I'm tired of getting things accomplished.

The father figure came home for lunch today. He was eating and I was reading the paper to him. It was an interesting article about traffic and then we discussed the coupons and various sales that were happening. We're old. I was a bit taken a back by how stereotypical we were, and slightly alarmed. But not enough to actually change my behavior.

As a hostage of the uncooperative car, I was able to set up the train table in the boys' room. It's similar to the tables that you might find at Barnes and Noble. I bought it for Mac's third birthday. It seemed like a reasonable purchase. He played with the tables at whatever stores had them and wailed something fierce as I pried his hands off. But rather than sit quietly and drive trains, like he typically did, Baby help him discover that the train tracks came apart and could be used as weapons. Also, you could color on them.

So the table went away. Shortly after we moved into our new house, X-Man began to talk a lot more. And one of his mostest favorite things is Thomas the Tank Engine. Or should I say, Homas the Hank Engine. It's the cutest thing ever. He's so happy when he shows you the Homas' in the book or his own Homas he got for his first birthday. He also likes to tell you the sound that Homas makes.

He truly appreciated the Homas table. He squealed as each piece can out and he had to run and show his siblings. It was very cute. And totally worth the effort to get the track together. And of course, as soon as it was set up, Mac and Baby and Baba all had to come play with it. Within minutes, it was spread all over the floor. I put it back together in time for X-Man's nap, not really sure why, but I did. And sure enough, I peeked in three hours later and there was X-Man, asleep on his intact table.

I loved talking to X-Man about Homas, mostly because it's so darn cute. And I was treasuring it until I over heard the father figure say "Hey X-Man, what's your favorite terrorist organization?" X-Man looked up from his train book and yelled "Homas!" And now that memory is ruined.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Another day, another call into poison control. Actually, it’s been close to a decade since I called them. Since Mac ate an entire lipstick on mine. Cinco tried to wash her hair with laundry detergent and was too busy spitting everywhere to explain to me if she had indeed ingested any.

New day, new blood on X-Man’s face. It’s a fairly common occurrence these days.  When I noticed, Mac immediately moved into total innocence mode. He was barely aware that X-Man had a face of any sort, let alone how any skin may have been removed from said fade. Cinco continued spinning around in circles. I’m pretty certain she’s the actual culprit. X-Man told me that an octopus scratched him. When Cinco flies into a fury it does seem like she has twice as many limbs.

Baby informed her aunt, during a pier side walk, that Cinco smells like sea life. Again an argument for the whole octopus description. And that’s all the thought I am giving that observation. Pretty sure that’s a trail I don’t want to wander down.  But could explain the attempted bath in laundry detergent.