Duck.

I'm not sure why his imititation of a duck is so dainty, but his cat sound is equally as high pitched and quiet...and ADORABLE.

A Little Weird

Alex saw and listened to David Bowie for the first time last night.  He was looking through Instagram on my phone and someone I follow had posted a picture of Bowie, and Alex asked who he was.  So I showed him a video of a live performance of "Under Pressure."  And then he wanted to see other songs, so I started the video of "Space Oddity."

I looked at Alex during the second video and asked him why he looked confused.  He replied that he didn't understand because they sounded the same, but the person in the Space Oddity video was not the same person as in the Under Pressure video.  I explained that it was the same person, he just had on a lot of funky make up in the Space Oddity video.  And I went on to explain that Bowie thought self-expression was very important and something nobody should ever feel bad about.  We watched the video, and then a performance of "Changes."

After all three were done, I asked him what he thought.  He sat for a little bit and thought, and then said, "A little weird...but good.  Can we watch Under Pressure again?"

I like having him process things that are a little weird.

Swifty to the Rescue!

When I woke Alex up this morning, he told me he had a bad dream, but he couldn't remember what it was about.  And he said yes while burrowing into his blankets when I asked if even though he couldn't remember it, was it still making him feel yucky.  So I asked him if he wanted to go to the kitchen, turn on Taylor Swift, and quite literally "Shake It Off."  He laid still for a second, pondered it, then threw of the covers, dropped his UnderJam to the floor, and trotted down the hallway.

Thank you Miss Swift.

Sherlock He Ain't

Sam has started calling Aiden "guuuud guuuuuuurlllll" in this little gravely voice.  It's super cute, but it leads me to believe he was clearly oblivious to the poop and pee she left in the playroom a couple nights ago.  Not very observant, that one.

Home Office

The second bout of strep was at least timely since I was going to have to work from home today any way as Alex has off of school.  This time of year is super busy for me, so it's a bit of a challenge having Alex home while working while trying to keep him occupied without just letting him be on a tablet all day long.

Currently, I am giving in to the tablet and he is playing Clash of Clans.  While naked and wrapped in a giant blanket.  While singing, "They don't know what's about to hit them oh oh oh!  They don't know what's about to hit them oh oh oh!" over and over.

These are the moments I love being home with him.

:'(

Well, it happened.  I said "hmmm...maybe we should cut his hair" while I was in the same room with Travis on Friday.  He jumped all over it and decided the next day was the day.

In the mean time, my stupid body thought it was a super idea to get stupid strep again.  So with me all germy and contagious, and Sam constantly needing to be touching me if he can see me, we decided Travis would take the boys.  Both boys.  To get BOTH of their hair cut.  Ugh.  They headed to the salon with a promise that Travis wouldn't let them cut it too short, and I headed to urgent care.

Antibiotics in hand, I came home to this:

I didn't cry and I'm starting to get used to it.  But man I miss those curls already.  It'll grow back.  It'll grow back.  It'll grow back.

Teacher

Ick. Nast. ... But alright it is a little funny.

Sam has suddenly decided farts are funny.  I don't know if he learned it from his brother, his dad, or the dog, but he cannot contain his giggles every time he lets a butt burp fly.  And he seems to already understand that it's a little bit naughty to think it's funny, because the twinkle in his eyes while he's giggling is just this side of blinding.

So now I have three boys walking around farting at each other.  Two of which will also fart at me; the eldest of the three knows better.  And one of those two will rub his butt on me after letting one go while saying, "There's still some left in my butt.  Baaaaahahahahahahahaha!"  Which, I have to admit, makes me laugh due to it's pure absurdity.

My life in three words?  Glamour.  Elegance.  Charm.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!  There's a fuck in my house!

Priorities

"K buddy, I'm gonna take a quick shower while you're playing that game.  Just remember to not open the door for anyone."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you opening the door for someone unless I am with you."
"Oh, Ok...but what if it's a MythBuster?"
"If it's a MythBuster, go ahead."
"Woo hoo!"

Consistency

Much like always putting his shirt on backwards, Alex is consistent when it comes to losing gloves.  So far only the left one goes missing.  We now have 3 right hand gloves missing their soulmates.  I had to send him to school with one black right hand glove and one navy blue too-small-by-a-year left hand mitten.  But that's what happens when you decide that for the bus ride home, you're not going to put your gloves in your backpack, or in your pockets, or heaven forbid on your freaking hands, but instead you choose to store them between the bib of your snowpants and your jacket.  Your jacket that doesn't have an elastic waistband.  Just a straight shot to the ground.  Or to the floor of the bus...which is where the last left hand fitting victim found its fate.

These things gotta go on sale soon, right?

Patience.

"Don't worry, Mom.  I'm not letting her listen to anything inappropriate."

This picture right here might just be the one to force me to send out Christmas cards next year.  I mean, yes, he'll be a year old and probably look completely different, but whatever.  LOOK AT THIS BABY.

(Thank you for the beautiful picture Gramma Z!)

Daily Dose of Awwwwww

Just a boy and his new favorite panda bear...which his brother has creatively named "Mr. Beary."

Stop the Madness

Somebody, anybody, everybody, please please PLEASE tell me how to get a 6&1/2 year old to stop arguing wih you.  I cannot take it any more.  It feels like he argues every single thing out of my mouth.  It is insanity.

The times it really gets me are when he argues things that are straight up facts.  You wanna argue the ethics of military intervention?  Great.  How about the causes and effects of global warming?  I'm in.  I'll even bite on a good round table discussion of recreational drug legalization.  But I refuse to argue facts.  I will not tolerate arguing about basic math equations.  And do not correct me that a tablet is not a computer.  And?  You better believe it took every fiber of my being to not lose my mind this morning when I found myself engaged in an argument about whether or not Alex's hair was wet or dry.

Me:  Alex, come here so I can dry your hair please.
Alex:  My hair is not wet.
Me:  Ummmm...what?  Yes, it is.
Alex:  No it's not, Mom.  It's dry.
Me:  Are you being serious right now?  You just got out of the bath.  Your hair is wet.  Come here.
Alex:  It's dry Mom!  This is just the color it is.
Me:  Feel it!  It's WET!
Alex (now softly slapping the top of his wet head):  No, see?  This is dry.
Me:  I'm out.  I cannot do this.

Development

We spent time with extended family this weekend which included a baby 2 months younger than Samalamadingdong.  Now, I know all kids develop at their own pace, but damn.  While Sam just recently decided to join the land of the walking, the other baby is walking, running, and jumping.  And while Sam was shy and kinda crotchety the entire afternoon, the other baby was laying the charm on thick.  We will be referring to the other baby as "Smart Baby" from here on out.

Smart Baby tried to play with Sam, but Sam just scowled at him and made it seem as though he has never seen a ball before nor would he have any idea what to do with one.  Smart Baby smiled and cooed and responded to people.  Sam hid his face in my leg or shoulder when he wasn't squawking at me for more grapes.

At one point Sam decided he was annoyed with me and went into what I can only describe as a downward-facing dog position, but with his forehead on the floor.  He then put his hands out only to lift his head slightly off the floor so he could slowly and methodically bang his head on the floor.  He eventually stopped, and looked at me like it was my fault while rubbing his little blond locks.

The confusion of this whole scene must have worked up quite the thirst for Smart Baby.  He stood there watching the spectacle, paused for a hot second once it was over, and looked up at his mom and said, "¿Agua?"