Happy Easter

Yesterday The Boy and his friend Clara had a little egg hunt at our place.



P's always wanted to buy one of those foil wrapped Italian Easter Eggs you see down on Commercial Drive. I always assumed they were cake, The Boy was pleased to discover it was actually chocolate. Despite being bigger than his head, he tied to eat it in one sitting.





Happy Easter everyone.

Sponge

Part of the fun of being a parent for me is the fact The Boy is totally gullible. Yesterday while playing with his Thomas and Friends train set, I started calling Sir Toppen Hat "Sir Top and Bottom". And being the parrot that he is, The Boy also started calling him Sir Top and Bottom.

It made me giggle, but I'd better stop. While somewhat amusing to me, likely offensive to another parent if The Boy was to ever say that at playgroup.

For the same reason I probably should also stop referring to Raffi as "The Bearded Dickwad".

They've Arrived!

Sitting on my desk right now are five figurines from The Boy's favourite show at the moment, Yo Gabba Gabba. They arrived in the mail today and are super cool. Half of me wants to keep them for myself, in their original boxes, mint, sealed in a vault, for all eternity (or until The Boy needs money for college). The other half realizes that they were bought for him to play with and I should hand them over.



One part Sesame Street, one part Electric Company with bits of Fat Albert and Zoom thrown in, YGG is a live action show that teaches kids wholesome lessons through faux hip-hop and dance. Things like waiting your turn, eating veggies, trying new foods, and my favourite, don't bite your friends.

All common sense lessons some say should be taught by parents and not a TV show. I agree, TV is not a substitute for parenting (although that would free up a lot of time), but it can reinforce the lessons you're already teaching. This doesn't mean P and I endorse an All-TV-All-The-Time policy in our house -- we make sure The Boy gets plenty of parks and swings and arts and crafts and walks and galleries and aquariums too -- but in moderation, age-appropriate TV isn't pure evil either.

Besides I don't think a zero TV policy necessarily raises better kids. The friends I had without a TV growing up were no smarter or faster than the rest of us, and they were actually a drag to hang around with. Because all they wanted to do when they went to someone's house was, you guessed it, watch TV.

Measuring Up

Lately I've been feeling short.

At 5' 10" I'm no giant, but always felt tall enough. The past couple of months though I've been feeling small.

I'm thinking of finding some shorter friends to hang out with, but not sure how. I thought of looking on Craigslist for a "Shorter Persons" group or something, but realized I might end up in a midgets' club.

Or worse...

"Oh... when you said "Short" I didn't realize that was a euphemism for a sex you can't describe. What's the safety word again? Banana?

Banana.

BANANA.

BAAH NAAH NAAH!

Are platform shoes back in style yet? Sign me up for three pairs.

He Can See In The Dark

Last weekend we moved The Boy out of his crib and into a Big-Boy-Bed. Since we moved last month, he's been off the crib, calling us at ungodly hours to open his window, or turn off the nightlight, or whatever. So we figured, "If he was in a Big-Boy-Bed, he'd be able to turn off his own damn nightlight."

I have to admit I wasn't totally enthusiastic about the BBB when P brought it up. I kind of like to notion of holding The Boy prisoner overnight because:

a) His remarkable lack of sleep is well documented. Calling us from his room at 4:00 AM is one thing, poking me in the eye to get me up at 4:00 AM is a totally different matter.

b) The door to his room is right next to the stairs, which means one groggy mis-step to the left and he'd be downstairs in a hurry.

c) He could sneak downstairs on his own. While the house is fairly kid-safe, we have a step-stool and he knows how to use it. He also knows how to turn on the stove, open the fridge, pull out food, break eggs, spill milk, reach for the knives and cutlery.

Come to think of it, I should get him make me breakfast, but he's a shitty cook.

But what the hell, parenting is nothing without taking chances, so on Saturday I set up his bed. Happily none of the above scenarios has played out (yet).

The Boy loves his BBB and sleeps solidly through the night. He does come into our room each morning, but only to crawl between us for a couple more hours sleep. And even though it's still dark outside, he somehow makes it into our room without taking a tumble.

Now, if I just get him to stop sleeping like a starfish I might get a bit more of the comforter.