Moo’s Big Bonk Day

A few days ago we went to visit Moo’s friend …  Steggie (renamed from Hit-It, he’s outgrown that name).  When we got there, Steggie was in the backyard, being, well – a BOY.

Here’s Moo playing:

(With a handful of assorted toys, usually a butterfly, a ladybug, and maybe a horse):  “La, la, oh hello Butter!  Hi Ladybug!  Let’s have a tea party, okay!  Do you want a donut, I’d love a donut, I love STRAWBERRY donuts!  Okay, here you go!  Yum!  Oh look, Baby Horse is here!”

Here’s Steggie playing:

(Running around the backyard, jumping, leaping, hitting various balls with various instruments):  “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

There’s just sort of a different energy level there, am I right?

So I sat down on a patio chair and watched Steggie fish baseballs out of the pond and wheel his tricycle around like Lance Armstrong.  “Well, Moo is probably going to get hurt today,” I thought as Moo cowered next to me, clutching Hop and her purse.  Not because Steggie’s aggressive or anything, just because there were lots of things being catapulted through the air, and Moo has very little experience with flying objects.  I was worried.  But then I thought, Maybe Moo needs to get hurt more.  I mean, not bleeding gashes, please no, but I’ve got a cautious girl and it might be good for her toughen up a little.  Right?

So I jumped into the fray and dragged Moo with me, who soon caught the run-around fever, and kept up with Steggie as best she could.  After baseball, hide n’ seek, foot races, and a few rounds of “Can You Do This?”, Steggie’s babysitter suggested we go out front with the sidewalk chalk.  That sounded like a nice change of pace, so we all settled down and drew dinosaurs, until the babysitter was called inside by the crying twins.  So there we were, Steggie, Moo, and I, and after one more pteranadon portrait, Steggie remembered something much more fun than sidewalk chalk – GAMES WITH BALLS!

Moo was willing, and skipped after him into the garage, where Steggie procured a basketball! and a soccer ball! and a football! and a baseball! and many, many golf balls! and a frisbee, and – zziiiing!  BONK!

Frisbee to the forehead.

Moo wailed.  I scooped her up and patted her back while Steggie nervously asked, ”Is she okay? Is she okay?”

“She’ll be fine, Steggie.  It’s okay, it was just an accident.”

Steggie tried to make Moo feel better by relating the story of his own forehead ouchie, which he apparently got while somersaulting into the pond.  And right at that moment, I thought, “Wow.  I don’t know if I could handle a boy.”

Moo declared that the only thing that could make her feel better was a kiss from Hop, so I set her down, she wiped her tears away and ran toward Hop – only to trip over her own feet and BLAMMO – land splat on the driveway.

Wailing.  Tears.  “Is she okay?”  Kiss from Hop.

After a couple minutes of kisses and hugs, Moo recovered somewhat and said she was ready to go inside and play dinosaurs.  So she stood up, took three steps, and KA-BLAMMO! tripped over herself again, but this time somehow performed a triple axel on the way down, first banging and skinning her knee and then flipping over and whamming her head on the concrete.

Okay.  I think that’s enough toughening up for one day.

That night, I decided three things – first, maybe my plan to just throw Moo into the fire worked, because she proudly showed off her ouchies to Herbie when he got home.  Two – maybe Moo needs some new shoes.  And three – I gotta teach this kid how to catch.  Or duck.

It’s a Miracle!

Yesterday at naptime, I went about our routine as usual, putting Doc away for his nap, helping Moo pick out books to read, and wrangling all the animals into their assigned locations (in bed, in baskets, or on couch with us).  I picked up Happy the Jack o’ Lantern and tossed him into Moo’s bed, and then watched him sail through through the crib rails and fall behind her bed.  I thought about just leaving him there until Herbie got home so he could drag the bed out from the corner, but then I remembered that the last two nights we’d had to frantically search for him after we put Moo to bed and she discovered him missing.  So I tried climbing in Moo’s bed to see if I could reach Happy that way, but quickly realized the bed was not made to hold me.  Then I tried using a yard stick to scoot him out, but no luck.  With Moo calling me from the playroom, I gave up, held on and gave three mighty tugs.  I took two steps, looked down, and right there on the ground between Happy and six sucky’s, I saw something that SHOCKED me.

What did I see, Moo?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hey, what’s that in your hand, Moo?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s STRIPER!  STRIPER!!!!  (Which is exactly what I screamed when I saw him – Striper! Striper! as Moo called,  “What, Mommy, what?” and we all met in a tearful, huggy reunion in the hallway.)  Do you REMEMBER?  Remember how I asked at a hundred stores and restaurants and oh, also how I LOOKED BEHIND HER BED?  I even used a flashlight!  I just didn’t think to pull out the bed from the wall, because how could he have rolled all the way under there?  What a sneaky snake.

Oh Striper, we’re so happy to have you back!  We thought you were gone forever.  To celebrate, we invited all of Striper’s friends to a welcome back tea party after dinner, and everyone got M&M’s. 

And so Striper is back to sussing and dancing and slithering, and back where he belongs – snuggled with Moo and Hop in her cozy, cozy bed.  And now I know – ALWAYS pull out the bed.

Target Lady

Yesterday Moo and I went to Target so I could pick up some groceries and Moo could say hello to her friends the Cat, Spider, and Bat (Target Halloween decorations).  She helped me pick out a new coffee thermos for Herbie, we looked at all the Halloween cakes, I resisted the dollar section (okay, no I didn’t, we bought a robot plate), and we were done.

So, whenever it comes time to swipe my card, Moo wants a turn with the pen thingy that you use to punch in your PIN number.  I have always allowed her to do this, after I’ve done my business and it’s just a blank screen, except for the “cancel” button in the corner which I cover with one finger while she taps at the screen.  Moo is not a wild kid.  We have never had to worry about her tearing apart our house, drawing on the walls, chewing on cords, or climbing the shelves.  So far she has never even tried to climb out of her bed.  So I think I’m a pretty good judge of whether or not she can handle a little checkout pen thingy.

I did my business, swiped and punched in my PIN, while sitting in the cart, Moo repeatedly asked me to share.  “I will, I’ll share, sweetie, be patient,” I said.  And then I finished and handed her the pen.

At which point the checkout lady yanked it out of her hand, snapped “No, no, noooo!” and wagged her finger in Moo’s face.  Moo was shocked.  I was shocked.  My first instinct was to snap, “Excuse me, I told her she could use it.  If you have a problem with that, you can tell me.”  But then I had second thoughts, like always, because I am a person cursed with second thoughts.  So I didn’t say anything, and rolled Moo away from the paying area.  I sent out what I hoped were cold, arctic vibes to the checkout lady while I wondered if all previous checkout people had silently cursed me when I let Moo fiddle with the pen.  I looked over at Moo, who was staring at the lady and clutching Hop to her cheek like she does when she’s scared.  So I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“Okay, Mommy,” she whispered back.

I gave the checkout lady one more whithering glare as I snatched my receipt from her and we rolled away.  Right then I realized I should have said something.  Why didn’t I say anything?!  Oh, I hate confrontation.  But dammit, I should have stood up for my daughter, and I think the checkout lady was totally oblivous to my silent hate.

Once we were out of the store, I gave Moo a hug and said, “That lady wasn’t very nice, was she?”

“No, she wasn’t!” Moo cried, sounding relieved that I was on her side.

“I guess she was worried that you were going to break the pen,” I said.  “But she wasn’t very nice about it.”

“No, she wasn’t!”

“Sometimes grown-ups forget to be nice, too.  You didn’t do anything wrong, Moo,” I said, ruffling her hair.

“Okay, Mommy,” she sighed, and I could see the weight lift off her shoulders.

Hey, what can I say?  I’ve got a sensitive kid.  Back off, Target Lady.  …Still wish I’d said something.

So should I not let Moo play with the pen thingy anymore?  And what the heck is that pen thingy called, anyway?

Another Wednesday Evening

Herbie and Moo in the bathtub.  Playing, singing, and splashing now, soon the fight over washing her hair will begin – thank you, Herbie, for almost always doing the bath.

Kitchen clean, except for friendly piles of recipe books and a pot soaking by the sink - thanks, tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, for being so easy to clean up.

Messy playroom – I could clean up the dinosaurs eating leaves off the Lego tree, and the penguins playing in Penguinland, and the crowd of animals riding the Dinosaur Train (a.k.a. the couch)…but they all look so content doing just what they’re doing.  Thanks, Moo, for making such happy messes.

Couch cleared of toys, magazines and Cheerio crumbs – waiting for Herbie and I to pounce on it as soon as Moo is tucked in bed.  Thanks, couch, for being so squishy.  Red light on Tivo holding steady, meaning I’ll soon have So You Think You Can Dance and Glee waiting for me – thanks, Tivo, for being so damn awesome, and thanks, talented dancers and Jane Lynch, for being so entertaining.

Soon I’ll hear some quacking, and a naked girl in a duck towel will come running in to find me, and I will give her a hug and she’ll fling off her towel and run back to her room, where Herbie and I will loll around and giggle at her while she busies herself with VERY IMPORTANT 2-year-old projects, and eventually we’ll wrangle her into her motorcycle pajamas, and talk her into brushing her teeth (“Minty!” she’ll declare), and find her sucky and Hop, and read the new books from the library, and sing to her while one of us carries her down the hall to her cozy bed.

Wednesdays are pretty nice.

Games Toddlers Play

Moo’s new thing is making up games.  For instance, at dinner last night, after our traditional round of the Rainbow Colors game (finding all the colors of the rainbow, a.k.a, keeping Moo interested in staying at the dinner table), Moo suggested her own game:

Moo:  “Let’s play the Testing Game!”

Mama and Herbie:  “?????  Okay!  How do you play?”

Moo:  “FIRST, you wake up in the morning and you go swimming in the ocean.  THEN you put on your pretty dress and you EAT CUPCAKES.  Then you put on your bunny ears and you go to Nana and Grandpa’s house, and THEN you go swimming at Oma and Opa’s house, and THEN you go to Clara and Irwin’s house!!  ANDTHENALSOYOUGOTOTHEMUSEUM!”

Mama and Herbie:  “…Moo, are you describing your Perfect Day?”

Moo:  “Yessssssss…”

I don’t know what that has to do with testing, but it sounded like a pretty fun game to me.  Then it was my turn to describe my perfect day:

Mama:  “First, I sleep in verrrry late and wake up and have a big breakfast of waffles and pancakes and eggs and bacon and there is Bailey’s in my coffee.  THEN I have a new outfit to put on and somebody comes over and makes my hair look pretty.  THEN I read books and THEN I go to the Children’s Museum with Moo and Herbie and THEN we come home and have a biiiiig dance party at our house with all our friends and family and we dance, dance, dance all night long!”

Moo:  “But Mommy, you have to go to everybody’s houses!”

Mama:  “Oh no, they’re all over at our house, dancing.”

Moo:  “……well, OH-kay.”

We had a tussle over tomatoes before we got to hear Herbie’s Perfect Day.  I suspect it involves video games, a bike ride, and beer. 

I much prefer Moo’s Perfect Day game over the game she made up Monday while we were having lunch at AJ’s.  We have a tradition of playing “I Spy” while eating our tuna sandwich, and after a couple rounds, Moo interrupted.

Moo:  “I have a new game, Mommy!  It’s called, ‘I Die!”

Mama:  “Uh, what?”

Moo:  “I DIE!”

Oh, um – that’s awkward.  I am quite sure she has no idea what that word means, and just chose a word that rhymes with “spy,” but couldn’t she have picked a different rhyming word?  There are so many friendly words that rhyme with spy – fly, high, butterfly…

Moo proceeded to explain the rules of “I Die” to me while I cringed.  “You pick a card, and then you slap it down in the ocean, and then you shout, DIE DIE DIE!”

Oh great.   I very determinedly avoided the gazes of the people eating lunch around us.  “Uh-huh, so I pick up a card,” I said, miming, “and I slap it down…”

“And you shout DIE DIE DIE!” Moo finished helpfully.

“How ’bout if we shout, ‘Pie pie pie?” I suggested.  “Pie is delicious!”

“No, Mommy, you have to say DIE DIE DIE!”

Argh.  “I don’t want to say that,” I said.  “Do you know what that word means?”

“Yes!” she said confidently.  “It’s what you shout in my game!  DIE DIE DIE!”

“Hey, how ’bout apple pie?  I love apple pie!”

“But Mooooommy, you haaaaaave to say it!  DIE DIE DIE!”

I was absolutely sure people were staring at my homicidal two-year-old now.

“But, Moo-”

“DIE DIE DIE!” she said gleefully.  “Come on, Mommy!”

“But, I- hey, chocolate pie?”

“DIE DIE DIE!”

“Oh, fine, okay, diediedie,” I whispered, slapping my invisible game card down in the invisible ocean.

Moo smiled happily and took a swig of milk.  “You say chocolate, Mommy?”

Jeez – I guess I need to think of some new games.

They Feel Pretty

Just in case you’re curious what Moo and Herbie do when I’m zonked out from cold medicine…

First, Moo decorates Herbie:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, Herbie decorates Moo:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And there is so much giggling and sparkling -  that I just have to drag myself out of bed and smile at the two of them.  Soon they’ll be painting each other’s toenails.

Back to the Beach

After Moo and I made our last trip to the beach, leaving Herbie behind, we realized he hadn’t been to the beach since Moo was four months old:

We decided we couldn’t let another year go by before Herbie had the pleasure of playing in the surf with a giggling girl, so we pounced on my sister and fam in Redondo Beach again this past weekend.

But at first, Moo refused to get in the water.  She squealed and kicked and tried to climb on top of Herbie’s head.  We retreated back to the sand toys, worried that our beach trip would be a bust.  But a little later, we walked back down to the water.  She refused to get her toes wet once again, until I dangled this magical bit of word wonder:  “Can you be brave like Caillou?”  Personally, I don’t really think Caillou is exactly the Steve Irwin of cartoon toddlers, but Moo thought for a moment, and nodded her head somberly.  And then:

Life: Now Maintenance-Free!

Herbie and I were talking about maintenance last night during cocktail hour.  Like, how about 70% of life is maintenance.  For Herbie:  ” But I just paid the bills/mowed the lawn/took out the recycling!  Why do I have to do it again?”  For me:  “But I just mopped the floor/did a load of whites/cleaned the kitchen!  And now I have to do it again?”

It’s just always so shocking.  We both seem to be in denial about how much maintenance life requires.    We constantly feel like we should be DONE with chores, forever.  I am always so surprised when I look at the bottom of my socks and they’re dirty.  How can this be?  I just cleaned the floor…like six days ago!  What kind of trickery is this?  I thought surely I’d swiffered for the last time.  And…what?  Dirty dishes in the sink again?  How did those dishes get so befouled?  And who got all these clothes dirty again?

I realize we just need to get over it and accept that we’re grown ups now, and grown ups maintain.  And maintaining the house is just a small part of it - there’s also maintaining friendships, maintaining investments, maintaining our marriage, maintaining Moo’s flyaway hair… I’m getting tired already.  Thank God for cocktail hour!  And also, thank you, God, for Clorox disinfecting wipes.  Really.  They are very helpful, and I enjoy the fresh scent, which reminds me of dewy green fields, but then again, perhaps I am just a bit light-headed from all the chemicals.

Mostly, I just can’t wait until the part where I get to assign a bunch of these chores to Moo.  Already she can put her shoes away on the shoe rack – next step, clean that toilet bowl!  I’ll give you a sticker….

Crazy for Cupcakes

After she woke up from her snooze, Moo helped me decorate the rainbow cupcakes:

 
Hmmm, someone thought I wouldn’t notice that finger-shaped smudge!

Matthew’s birthday cupcake:

 
And is there anything more charming than watching a child try to devour a cupcake in one single bite?  I think not.  Cupcake, post-Moo-attack:

 

Yes, I finished the rest.

Ode to a Caterpillar Snake

When I was a girl, I had a favorite stuffed animal – Wiggles the caterpillar.  He slept every night with me, and after my mom turned off the light and thought I was sleeping, Wiggles performed spectacular feats of gymnastics as I flipped him high in the air, again and again.  Once I even wrote a limerick in his honor, which won a poem contest in my dad’s Kiwanis newsletter.  I remember a lot of wiggle/giggle/squiggle rhymes.

Here’s Wiggles recently:

 
But his name isn’t Wiggles anymore, it’s Striper, and he likes to pretend to be a snake instead of a caterpillar.  Since he passed into Moo’s hands, he has rarely left her sight, once again enchanting a small child with his amazing dance moves and flips.  He speaks in a sort of Eastern-European snake-ese, with lots of drawn-out vowels and hisses.  He loves hot dogs.  He is an accomplished slitherer.  His favorite game is Hide-and-Suss. 

Moo (hiding Striper behind her back):  “Do you hear some sussin’?  Suss, suss, suss!” 

Mama:  “I DO hear some sussin’!” 

And then… Striper Attack!  Giggle, giggle, hee, hee.

We haven’t seen Striper/Wiggles in almost month.  One evening, I realized I hadn’t seem him in a couple days, so I started searching the house.  Then I looked in every tote bag, and then the stroller, and the car.  In the past three weeks I have asked, “Oh please, have you found a red-and-yellow caterpillar?” at Target (twice), My Gym, the library, two Starbucks, five grocery stores, and three restaurants. 

He’s just – gone.

God, I just hope he wasn’t tossed into the trash, or run over by a car – those thoughts break my heart.  That little caterpillar snake was loved – so loved, by two generations.  We keep telling Moo that Striper went on an adventure .  I just don’t know how or when to tell her that he’s not coming back, when I can’t accept it myself. 

Surely, at any moment, I’m going to hear some sussin’…