Mom, I Need an i-Phone, Part 1

There are some conversations that a mom just knows are going to continue. Indefinitely. This is one of them. Although, admittedly, I didn't expect this one to start just yet.

Sam: Mom, Super-Why has his own i-phone.

Me: Yes. Yes, he does.

Sam: That's because he's a super hero.

Me: Orly?

Sam: Yes. When I'm a super hero, I'll have my own i-phone too!

Me: Orly?

Sam: Yes.

Sam: Mom, can I be a super hero today?

More Than One Square

WARNING! Poo Blog!

Look around you.

Look around you.

Look around you.

Have you discovered what we are looking for? That's right. Biological waste.

An experiment was carried out in which a three year old female child was given temporary free reign of the toilet half of the bathroom. What do you think will happen? You can write your hypothesis down in your copy book now.

All right, all right. Enough with the British comedy parody. But we've only just begun talking about Poo. That's right. Poo. I've put great effort into avoiding the subject so far in my blog, but it is time to face cold hard facts. Being a parent often involves being elbows-deep in human excrement. I feel like there are a few misconceptions about this that should be cleared up.

1. Tiny human = tiny waste. WRONG! How important is it for parents to remember the actual formula is [food in] - [energy used] + [some extra gross stuff for smell and volume enhancement] = [waste out]? Case in point: I was carrying Sam on my shoulders one afternoon when we were shopping at Tinker AFB. We had just eaten lunch. It hit her wrong and immediately (she was still in pull-ups at the time). The family bathroom was closed for maintenance so I found myself with a shopping cart holding an infant seat (infant included) and a poo covered toddler tucked in a small, 2-stall bathroom waiting for David to choose and purchase new outfits (including shoes and a purse) for the both of us. I would swear to this day that the volume was more than her weight at the time.

2. Tiny human = tiny smell. WRONG! This doesn't even require explanation. You've met my son. I can't think of a single witness (including myself) that hasn't been expelled from the room by the smell at some point.

3. Tiny human + potty trained = all good. WRONG! This brings us to our blog-inciting event. Should a parent mindlessly inform a toddler that one square is not enough without providing specific information about how much IS enough, said parent should be absolutely positive there is a plunger on hand, because [one entire roll of toilet paper] + [your average household toilet] + [one flush] - [that plunger you thought you had] = BADNESS!

4. Tiny human is MY human, therefor, it is all okay. WRONG! It is still really, really gross. It just is.

I'd like to pretend that I just got all of poo into one blog. Its a delusion I intend to maintain for a while. Now I need a vacation.

The Garbie Crisis

My daughter is playing in the living room with her dolls. She calls them "Garbie" dolls. It was something she started over a year ago and it has just been too cute to correct. She can hate me for it later. I digress.

She is calmly playing with her dolls as I research recipes for this mango she insisted I buy and now refuses to eat. All of the sudden she screams. I know, I know. SURPRISE! So I walk over to her and ask her to use her words to tell me the problem.

Sam: Garbie has to be a princess!

Me: I think she is a beautiful princess.

Sam: Garbie doesn't want to be a princess!

Me: Do you want Garbie to be a princess?

Sam: NO! NO! NO!

Me: Calm down sweetie. What would you like Garbie to be?

Sam: She wants to be Dr. Garbie in the betinary (veterinary) hospital.

Me: What a wonderful idea! I think Garbie will be a great doctor!

Sam: She can't! She can't! SHE CAN'T!

Me: Of course she can, honey. She can be anything you want her to be. Garbie's adventures come from your imagination.

Sam: She can't! She can't! SHE CAN'T!

Me: Samantha, we are girls. Garbie is a girl. A girl can do anything she sets her mind to, no matter what obstacles she faces. It is important for you to empower Garbie to follow her dreams.

Sam: She can't! She can't! SHE CAN'T!

Sam starts to cry. I wrap my arms around her and hold her in my lap on the couch.

Me: Why can't Garbie be a doctor?

Sam: Because all the stuffed animals are locked in the bedroom with sleeping Caius!

**Me, complicate simple situations? NEVAH!**