If you start using the potty, I'll laugh at your poo with you.

Scrubbing poo out of the carpet before breakfast is not the best marker of a good day. That's OK. I'm keeping my eyes on the Prize.  We are planning our escape to an undisclosed location *.* at an undisclosed time. Having bumbled through the morning with my free-day-at-the-children's-museum virus, I put the kids down for a nap. Tip-toeing to the toaster (sing that in a squeaky voice), with my non-napping baby in one arm, I almost wish someone was witness to my deftness as I yank the toaster lever up, sending my horribly wonderful toaster pastry prize into the sky, high enough for me to snatch it with the same hand. Mmm. The only thing more rewarding than evil treats is managing to gobble them without the boys noticing.

Junk-snacking is not a great idea. This bug already botched my new workout routine after only one trip to the gym! I figured I'd be nice and not share our boogers with them. Interestingly, it seems the last time I had a bug was also the last time I blogged. I'll try not to make that a habit. I've also been "partying" with an over-clocked thyroid, which doesn't make me the friendliest mama on the block, and...also has me constantly seeking a sugar fix.  Oh leetle vacation, where are youuu?

If anyone is keeping a list of things moms/wives don't care to hear, I have a few you can add.  They range in severity from "*sigh*" to "OMG I don't ever want to hear that again."

1. Toddler saying: Mooooooom! Change me! Change me! (accompanied by a squishy trail of special effects)
2. Husband saying: Your toothbrush is awesome!
3. Toddler saying: Dad! Let's play poop! (proceeds to crawl between dad's legs, saying "poooo-oop!")
4. Toddler in bath hollering to me in next room: He he he! I'm tickling myself mom!
5. Toddler to dad: Take! I taked your penis and now you have a 'gina! (I think we're a little obsessed with "down there" right now)
6. Pre-schooler saying proudly: Look! I made a golf club. (holding up carefully torn page from a book)

So the other day, my sweet love sent me a business-romantic meeting request for a 7-hour "special event" that requires a sitter. I don't really care at this point if it's grocery shopping. He's made it so...intriguing, so...mysterious. I'm ready to grab my cart and go! Actually, he's a great "picker", so I know it will be cool.

Guess I'll go Neti the Drooling Yeti (i.e. irrigate my sinuses).

Camels and Cookies

Sometimes what Ian says is still pretty muddled.  Sometimes he makes himself a little too clear.  I'll give a recent example of each.

I could have sworn Ian was telling me there were camels on his strawberry.  I chalked it up to his vivid imagination, tho usually his imagination has a little more logic to it than that.  Later, when strapping him in his car seat, he said he wanted to hold the "camels."  Listening more closely and having him repeat it a dozen times, it started to sound more like "camocks," which still didn't help.  I asked him to show me what he meant, and then I discovered he was talking about the hand sanitizer pen I had clipped to my shirt.  Then it clicked that he had remembered me talking about washing the chemicals off his strawberries.

The next incident was on the day we made gingerbread man cookies together.  That night, when Brian was trying to get Ian headed to bed, Ian was begging incessantly for another gingerbread man.  Brian got fed up with it and told him if he asked one more time, he would put his nose to the wall (our version of a time out).  Ian couldn't help himself and muttered once more, "May I have a gingerbread man?" Brian replied, "What did you say?" Without hesitation, Ian said, "Hey, what's in this trash can?"  It was so well-performed that it got him off the hook.

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Ian just brought me a Batman mask and asked if I could be Batgirl.  I agreed and did my best impression.  Then he brought me a book to read, so I took off the mask and started reading.  Ian stopped me and insisted, "No, Batgirl will read it."

Boyscout Badgering, Birthday Brainstorming and Baby Babbling

Yesterday evening, we juiced the boys up on ice cream and took them to the park.  While there, a troupe of boy scouts went thundering past the playground to an open field. Ian dashed after them and stood at the edge of the field.  The boy scout leader saw him and, in my best estimate, figured he was going to cleverly "scare" him off. Mr. Boy Scout launched into some loud monologue in a voice I can only describe as an even more annoying Bobcat Goldthwait. It was something like, "Hey little boy!...[blah blah blah]...Do you want to be a boyscout?!...."  Instead of its intended effect, Ian arched his back, threw back his head and erupted in maniacal laughter. The troupe went chaotic with it's own amusement. Ian - 1, Mr. Boy Scout - 0.

After the park, we enjoyed a spontaneous play date...at Kroger. We ran into a friend and her kids, and the whole gang of kids, ages 20 mos, 3, 4, and 6 (I think) zoomed off to besiege the grocery store.  I guarded the carts while Brian and the other mom dashed off in pursuit.  They forgot their nets and manacles, but eventually reclaimed our progeny.  We adults squeaked in a brief chat before the clan escaped again.  It had to be great marketing for the bakery treats on the tables they were crazily circumnavigating:  Buy these and your kids can be just like this!

We finally parted ways and otherwise left the store fairly victorious.  For his upcoming birthday, Ian requested a cake with a house and snow.  My best idea for tackling that was to find a gingerbread house kit to use for a cake topper.  Fortunately, Kroger had one, so I'll be tackling that this week.  They didn't, however, have any gingerbread man cookie cutters.  They had lots of gingerbread man cookies, but my masochistic self decided it would be a deeper expression of my love to make the little cookie men that will frolic in the sugary snowdrifts.  But, I may reconsider the bagged ginger men since he won't fully appreciate the effort until about his 32nd birthday...maybe.

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Isaac does everything about as cutely as I can imagine it being done. Right now he's fascinated with eyes. When I put on my "ga-giz" [glasses] in the morning, he slips a finger behind them and declares, "Eye!" and then points out all the other eyes present in the room. Then he gently raps on my glasses with his fist, saying "knock knock" and lets me know it's time to "eat!" The way he requests his waffle (wah-wul) sounds like he's prodding me to rock 'n roll.  He waits patiently as I dance, then leads me by the finger to the freezer. Ian walks by with a drink and Isaac makes the "share" sign and requests "chare meeeeeeee", holding out the "me" while his sweet voice slides into an increasingly higher pitch. Depending on what room we're in, "boo bus" either means he wants to ride his school bus or he wants his tooth brush (with "boo pase" on it, of course).  He's a little flirt and a cuddly cuddler, and I just want to squeeze him!