A Boy and His Dog

I was trying to get us out the door on time and I hear, "We can't go yet Mom...I have to snuggle Aiden."

Mix Up

From the bathroom, I hear:

"Mama! I need my bite wupped! I mean my bite wupped.  Wait.  My bite wupped.  Uggghhhh! I can't say that thing! My.  Bite.  Wupped.  Grrrrrr!"

"Sammy, do you need your butt wiped?"

"Yes pleasereezers!"

Top Notch Parenting

Alex only likes to wear ankle socks.  Except for when he plays hockey.  Then he likes wearing at least crew length socks so his skates don't rub.  Which is fine, except he is so adament about the ankle length for everything else, we only had one pair of crew length.  Seeing as though he stinks to high heaven when he gets home from practice or games, we have to do laundry pretty much constantly, so the one pair thing wasn't a big deal.  Until I couldn't find the damn socks.

So, practice comes around, I still can't find the socks, and Travis and I are trying to come up with an adequate substitute.  Travis said he had a pair that was a squinch too small that he thought would work.  He grabbed them, put 'em on Alex's feet, pulled 'em up, and headed off to practice.

It was only a day later when I was folding laundry that I noticed there were words on the bottoms of the socks.  Yeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah....pretty sure we aren't winning any parenting awards:

Update

Captain's Log, Stardate 21.71575:  We are 4 hours into the snow day.  I fear all control may already be lost.  The bathroom has been flooded twice by the little one who now refuses to put on any clothing whatsoever.  The whistling of outdoor rockets skimming passed my head while I stand in the living room is unnerving to say the least.  The volume of my voice has no affect on them.  It seems to only make them crazier.  The bigger one has headed back out into the snow.  Nap time for the little one is soon.  Hoping to make it until someone can relieve me.

Snow Day!

We got some snow overnight and since the snow levels have dramatically decreased since I was a kid, 3+ inches of snow means nobody can fathom getting to school.  I wish I would have recorded the extended happy dance Alex did this morning when I told him.  It was somethin'.

But, as any other weekday, I still have to work.  Luckily I had a little monkey around to grill up some pretend breakfast...on my desk...while I was trying to take a phone call.  Wheeeee!

Seriously, he's cute and all, but how many times can one child say "Mama" in one day?  Luckily the other one is super pumped about playing in the snow, so I only have one starting every sentence with "Mama" to make sure I'm paying attention AT ALL TIMES.

Blunt

Ohheyhai!  Yeah...so...it's been a while.  ~checks calendar~  HOLY SHIT!  I have written anything down since January 24th?!?!  Sweet sassy molassy.  Well, I will use normal excuses.  Work, hockey, work, insane children, work, confused dog, work, work, work.  Did I say work?  It's been really busy. 

Anywho, I had to come back today to document the stellar parenting skills I put on display this morning.

First a little background...I'm not sure if it's due to the cold or the snow or her age, but Aiden is having a hard time remembering inside the house is decidedly not where she is to relieve herself.  She will scratch at the door, and as long as I am there to let her out within 11.2 seconds of her scratching, we're good.  Until we're not.  She'll go out there for a short time, come back in, walk two laps around the house, pantomime a scratch at the door, and then promptly shit on the floor.  And that's all if I get to the door when she scratches.  If I don't make it there in time, she just straight away pees and poops on the floor.  It's fun.

Both boys have seen and heard our frustration when stumbling upon (and in Travis's case stepping right in and tracking it through the living room) whatever mess that day has brought.  It's usually some sort of guttural groan followed with, "that DOG!"  This morning was no different.  Apparently it didn't matter to her that I hauled my cookies out of bed before 5am to let her out.  She preferred to use the living room floor just before 6:30.

But this morning, while I was cleaning it up, Sam said, "Ugggh!  That DOG!  You need to tell her, if she doesn't stop pooping and peeing where she's not supposed to, you're going to throw her in the garbage!"  Now, the sensible part of my brain knows he's a three year old and he doesn't actually mean any harm, nor does he want me to throw the dog away.  But it turns out the sensible part of my brain wasn't quite awake this morning.  The snarky part of my brain was though.  So I responded, "Welp.  We didn't throw you in the garbage when you used to poop and pee where you weren't supposed to.  We kept you around, so I'm thinkin' we'll skip the garbage can for the dog."

Morning sunshines!