So to Speak

Couple of recent conversations with the Boy.

-----
This one is between The Boy and his friend Milo.

They both go to the same daycare, and have become best buddies. Milo usually arrives before we do, so he's always at the door to greet us in the morning.

Yesterday Milo greets us with a scream and a giggle. This time though, instead of saying hello back, The Boy grins and flicks his tongue back and forth, "Leh-leh-leh-leh-leh". This is apparently okay as the two dash inside and start playing.

When I was a kid we had secret handshakes. The way kids talk these days, I tell you...

-----
Later that night P and I ask The Boy how his day went.

The Boy: Milo hurting.

P: How come?

TB: I push him. Milo crying.

P: That's not very nice. Did you say sorry?

TB: I say sorry.

P: Did you kiss his boo-boo?

TB: I kiss his boo-boo.

P: Are you just repeating everything I say?

TB: [pause] Yes.

We still not sure which part of the story to believe, and I have this feeling he'll never tell us.

Potty Training Update Part 2

Let me explain the previous post.

There is nothing there because there is nothing to report.

The Boy is no closer to being potty trained than I am to being the next President of the United States (I'm Canadian. Not white. And believe legislated, national policy banning people from getting on an elevator and going up one floor will benefit everyone. Who would vote for me?)

Sometimes I think we're on the cusp of a major breakthrough, then he goes and shits on the couch and I float back to reality. I know he understands the concept - when asked about where to pee and poop he responds "Potty" - he just doesn't want to use the potty.

In an effort to accelerate the process we've taken to letting him go without a diaper at home. But all that seems to have accelerated is The Boy's love of peeing on the floor. "Look at me! I peeing!" he giggles as I race for a towel. At least we don't have carpeting.

Now the Japanese, they do potty training right! Check out this Japanese Anime Cartoon to help potty train. It's actually a commercial, but WTF, I think I'll sit The Boy down and play it for him. I mean it can't hurt can it?



(Link to the video)

Potty Training Update

[...]

Morphing

P thinks The Boy's face is changing.

So do I.

Long face and bulbous cranium, I think his head is looking more and more like a mushroom.

Don't tell him I said that.

Living in the Suburbs Means #5

Poison, apparently.

For as long as I can remember my mother has been paranoid about crime. I suppose as owner/operators of a corner store my parents have experienced crime first-hand (numerous hold-ups, some at gun point). But her fear goes much deeper than that.

My mother can looked down the barrel of a gun and remarkably recover in a few hours. But mention poison around her and she'll break into a cold sweat.

Poison?!?

This manifests itself into some obsessive behaviour. Living at home, if my mother stepped out of the house for even a moment, she locked the door. If I stepped out of her house to say, take out the garbage, I'd come back to find the door locked. To the outsider looking in, this seems like a rational thing to do - locking your doors. But peel back a couple of layers and that's when it starts to get weird.

Me: Mom. Why did you lock me out?

Mom: What if someone snuck in and poisoned our food?

Me: Yeah but you left me standing outside in the rain. Besides wouldn't you see them? You were in the kitchen.

Mom: They'd sneak in and hide. Then poison the food when we were sleeping.

Me: Let me get this straight. Someone would sneak in and hide for 8-10 hours inside our house just to poison our food? Someone really wants to poison us that badly?

Mom: It could happen.

Even though I was always tempted to close the debate with "If someone wanted to kill us that badly, wouldn't they just break in and shoot us?" I held back. Like most phobias, common sense plays no part in the rational.

Don't get me wrong. My mother is a wonderful person, who actually has a pretty calm demeanor. Although I suspect she does keep an eye out for shady characters wandering around with boxes of slug bait.

Years later I thought my mother was getting a handle on this - nope. Last week it popped up again.

I left a bag of vegetables outside overnight. My mother noticed right away.

Mom: Do you think the vegetables are okay?

Me: Yeah why?

Mom: Someone might have poisoned them.

Me: Seriously? Someone would wander past and think, "Hey an unsupervised bag of Bok Choy, I'll just pull out my handy bottle of poison, which I always keep with me for moments like this, and..."

Mom: Well this is the big city. People over here are different.

Me: Different in that they carry bottles of poison with them everywhere they go?

Mom: Yes.

I guess I shouldn't make fun of someone else's phobia. But hey, it's my Mom.

Cover Up

After a workout, P comes into our room naked. The Boy runs up excitedly.

The Boy: Mommy Mommy!

P: Hi Honey! That's a nice tiger shirt you have on.

TB: Nice boobies Mommy.

P: Thanks.

TB: Nice bum.

P: Uh...

TB: Nice curly.

P: Okay, okay. Go see Dad.

I think it's time P invested in a robe. The Age of Aquarius is definately over in our house.

BOO

The Boy went trick or treating for the first time on Wednesday. I wasn't sure how long he'd last, cooped up chicken costume all night. (Get it? Cooped... Chicken... See how my mind works? It's like a laser). But he surprised P and I both and stayed out for two hours.



Having his friends Milo and Naomi come along helped.


I didn't get a chance to go out with them, but according to P The Boy ran from door to door, screamed "Cock-a-doodle-do" at the top of his lungs and once he grasped the essence of the evening he dropped "Trick or Treat" in favour of "I want candy" whenever someone opened their door.

Sounded adorable, and I missed all of it. I know I can go with him next year, and the year after that, but there's always something magical about 'firsts'. Maybe next Halloween I'll witness the first time he blows a pumpkin up with fireworks. It's not quite the same, but I'll take it.

Yale vs. the Rest

The Boy is years away from going to University, or College, or Art School - it will be his choice. What won't be his choice is living in our basement and playing Xbox all day, but that's a fight for another day.

One of my favourite marketing writers Seth Godin posted a great piece on how Colleges market themselves to parents and their kids. Bottom line is that those to agonize over going to a Top 5 college are marginally better off than someone who goes to a less-prestigious college.

Something to think about as our young 'uns grow up.

If you're interested, read the article.