Don Juan deTater
“Mommy, what are you doing?”
“Curling my hair.”
“Why?”
“So I will look pretty.”
“OOOHHHH, I LIKE PRETTY GIRLS!!!”
Seems my nearly three-year-old has gone from mob boss to casanova. Frankly, I’m not sure which is worse. Oy.
P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY COLBY JOE!!
Pride and…more pride
Parenthood is full of moments when pride washes over a mother like a welcome wave from the warmest, most beautiful ocean. Like when your toddler very matter-of-factly states “I want some fuckin’ milk.”
Seriously though I had a real so-proud-to-be-his-mommy moment yesterday when I dropped Tater off at daycare. One of the little boys at daycare began to scream when his father left and the teacher told the father, “Don’t worry, Tayce will help him stop crying.” The father proceeded to tell me that Tayce is the only child his son talks about at home and that his son LOVES Tayce. The daycare teacher backed up this claim by telling me that all the kids love Tayce. He is everybody’s friend, even the older kids. On top of that, he is sensitive and compassionate and always tries to help the kids who cry. He’s reassuring and patient with them and tries to get them to “come play” when they are upset.
I’m pretty sure this makes him the Mr. Congeniality, Most Likely to Succeed, and Valedictorian of daycare. So there I was brimming with pride-filled tears and all I could think was “Really? My son? He can be such a little bastard at home.” And then I felt guilty because when I really thought about it, I realized that he is an amazingly loving little fella. His capacity for compassion is truly a wonder sometimes because he is so young and should still be quite self-centered.
I think that love and compassion are two of the most valuable attributes a person can have and the fact that my son is exhibiting them makes my heart swell. In the words of Auntie Renfro – I JUST LOVE HIM!
Egomaniac
“Tater, what color is this?”
“Gray.”
“That’s right. And, what color is this?”
“Red.”
“Good job! You’re so smart, you know that?”
“Yep.”
SIDENOTE: Is it just me or is the fact that someone found my site whilst searching for “Bouncing Babers” just totally awesome?
I wonder how I can get my Babers to bounce?
Parental advisory: Explicit lyrics
This is me blatantly ignoring the tag I received. Too much work, I’d have to like think and shit.
Plus my brain is too busy trying to figure out what to do when you put hot sauce on a toddler’s tongue because he dropped the F-bomb…AND HE LIKES IT!?!?! That’s right folks, Tater likes hot sauce and I’m not talking the wimpy stuff, I used Frank’s Red Hot Sauce. The disclaimer on the bottle says that this stuff will remove oil spills from your driveway and my son asked for more!
I’ve heard that Supernanny doesn’t recommend these tactics so I’m asking you, Internet, what should one do? Oh, and before you start preaching about how I should watch my own language – I have and I am. The damage is done y’all and I need to undo it before he tells his daycare teacher to suck it up, beeyotch.
Boy meets world
If any of you ever doubted my claims that Tater is a rough and tumble toddler, you needn’t look any further for proof.
I swear before all that is holy these are all self-inflicted and yes, this is a little more bruised than normal. However, it’s pretty well par for the course with Tater. He’s rough, he tumbles and he just doesn’t care about getting hurt. Plus, he has absolutely NO fear! This right here? His idea (and it occured last summer – before he was even two years old!).
The other night he slammed the side of his head into the wall and got a huge goose egg that made his hair stick straight out. Until I touched it, I thought he had a new cowlick. See, he cried for all of about 20 seconds before he wiped his tears and said “Let’s go to Burger King and get some chicken fries.”
For the most part, I thoroughly enjoy his lack of fear. I never wanted one of those neurotic children that cried for hours over every bump and scrape. I want him to experience the world with as much energy and passion and enthusiasm as possible. Get dirty, jump in puddles, eat mud, run amok, climb trees, scrape your knees, bonk your head, bruise your legs…and enjoy every moment of it.
Just remember that a kiss from Mommy will make it all better.
Plenty to go around
Lately Tater has begun to adorably refer to himself in the third person. “Mommy, can you give that blanket to Tayce?” “Mommy, will you please turn on Backyardigans for Tayce?” “Can Tayce have some chocolate milk?”
We aren’t sure where this came from but it’s cute enough to make me want to eat him with a spoon. Perhaps the best third-person referral of all is when Daddy and I “fight” over who gets Tater as a best friend. We banter back and forth in front of Tater: “He’s my best friend!” “No, he’s my best friend!” etc, etc.
Tater will then look at us both with exasperation and say “It’s OKAY! We can all share Tayce.” This is the reason you have kids. This and making them go to the store for you.
Everyday is Dad’s Day!
Shot through the heart, er…knee
So I eluded to this dramatic weekend and then left you hanging for days. I swear I’m not a tease!
Last Friday night, Dick’s phone rang. It was Papa asking Dick to come pick him up and take him to the hospital. He had accidentally shot himself. I literally can’t recall anything specific that happened for the next half hour. Papa had been cleaning his handgun when it fired and the bullet got two fingers on his left hand before entering his left leg at the knee. Before you ask “Why was he cleaning a loaded gun?” let me tell you that he wasn’t. He removed the clip and checked the chamber before cleaning the gun. Like usual, he was his meticulously careful self. Well let this be a lesson to all of you gun owners out there – THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS COMPLETELY SAFE!
Papa was really lucky in that the only real long-term affect will be some loss of feeling in one finger. The bullet went through the knee joint chipping a bone and lodged just beneath his skin on the other side of his leg. They operated and took it out and he got to take the bullet home as a souvenir. Evidently his memory of the event isn’t enough. Truthfully, I think the worst injury he sustained was to his pride.
I could launch into a huge diatribe about how dangerous guns are and how no precautions guarantee safety, and because I am making a career out of injury prevention I probably should. But I won’t. Because frankly all that really matters is that Papa is safe and well (almost). They say it takes a village to raise a child…well, Tater’s village doesn’t work without Papa and I don’t even want to imagine what life would be like without him.
A big, fat “Thanks, Dude!” to whoever or whatever it was watching over our Papa that day.
Slacker
Even the unbelievably dramatic and crazy weekend I’ve had doesn’t excuse my tardiness in the following:
HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY AUNTIE RENFRO!
More on the weekend will be posted as soon as I figure out the perfect spin to put on it. Yeah, it’s that crazy.
Meanwhile, I leave Renfro with my apologies and the rest of you with the cuteness of this:
