Archive for the ‘Abby’ Tag
April 27 2011
We have spent a lot of time with my parents this week, Abby and I. While the boys were with their dad this past weekend, my daughter and I went out to lunch with her Grandma and Grandpa then went shopping with Grandma before traveling back to their house for dinner. Where Abby was immensely excited to see their dog, Joey.
“Go see Joey?”, she asked hopefully.
“Yes, we are going to see Joey”, I affirmed.
“Joey!”, she cheered.
She was so excited. So excited that she could barely contain herself in her carseat. As we pulled into my parents’ driveway, she began the happy bounce. Nose wrinkled in jubilant anticipation of this canine that she hadn’t seen since Christmas. That she wouldn’t go anywhere near then. It would never hurt her, but this thing with the paws and the tail that keeps wagging back and forth, get it away! Which made her enthusiasm to see him now a little baffling.
“Joey!” she continued on as I unbuckled her from the carseat.
“Joey!”, she kept on as we walked up their front steps.
“Joey!”, as we opened the door.
Then, as Joey came darting out to greet us, stumpy and fat and furry, just as excited to see her as she had been for him, she curled back into my shoulder. The smile disappeared, the lip pouted.
“No Joey! Bad Joey!” And that remained her stance every time he so much as looked at her until we were safely on our way home.
2 year olds are a very confusing bunch.
April 19 2011
Abby has a thing for crayons. I have a thing against crayons. This causes a bit of friction. Thus, every day she asks for her crayons. And every day after I finally give in, I fight to get her to gather them back up again. I bribe, I threaten, I beg. I’ve tried it all, none of it more enticing than her rainbow of colors scattered on the floor. Some who have been witness to our battles have asked why I don’t just pick up the crayons myself. After so long, I tell them, it’s a matter of principle.
And principle took center stage yesterday before dinner, when once again nothing worked. Then, with a throat raw from repeating pick up your crayons to no avail, I went to take a drink of milk. Of course, Abby followed, because what else would she do, pick up her crayons?
“Milk?”, she asked, eyeing the jug.
I knew what she wanted and hesitated. I shouldn’t encourage that kind of behavior. One of my duties as her mother is to teach her manners. Yet I’m also supposed to instill responsibility. I was sure it wouldn’t work, anyway. “I will if you pick up your crayons”, I finally bargained.
“Pick up crayons?”, she studied me, then at the jug of milk before running off. When I went in to check on her, she was kneeling on the floor. Picking up her crayons.
A few minutes later, she dashed back in to the kitchen and swung the refrigerator open. “Milk!”, she declared, heaving out the gallon with both hands. As promised, I unscrewed the top, set the rim against her mouth, and tilted it back so my 2 and a half year old daughter could chug from the jug. I then handed her a cold slice of pizza and a pair of flannel boxer shorts. Might as well complete the look, you know, as a matter of principle.
April 13 2011
Let’s play a game, shall we?
Maybe it’s more of a test. Multiple choice. But I’m sure your kid(s) will think it’s a game.
Say your 4 year old runs to you with a worried expression, flapping his arms excitedly. “Mommy! Mommy!”, he calls for your attention as he darts off. You take the hint and follow as he leads you into the bathroom that you didn’t even realize had been opened. Inside, you eye your not-so-innocent 2 and a half year old daughter standing stoic in nothing but a diaper, dripping wet toilet plunger in hand like a staff. A few other items are scattered nearby, thankfully nothing toxic. From the sound of the tank filling again with water, you can hear that the toilet had just been flushed. You look in the bowl to find the soggy remnants of:
a.) A full roll of toilet paper
b.) Your watch
c.) The television remote control
d.) A Spiderman action figure
e.) A handful of unopened pantyliners
f.) Your child is an angel who wouldn’t dare think of tainting anything with toilet water, because you’re a wonderful mother who has worked hard to raise your child right. Where’s that Mother of the Year award?
If you chose f., congratulations. However, if your answer is e. in this instance, you next are:
a.) Angry
b.) Relieved
c.) Fearful at the possibilities of what they might have also managed to plunge down the drain before you walked in.
Answer key: There are no right answers.
April 05 2011
It’s the age old question, asked every night. Regular answers consist of normal child fare: cheeseburgers, pizza, chicken quesadillas. Whether I take their suggestion to heart is another matter. Even if I do, I try to include a vegetable somewhere amongst the million calories. Still, I continue to inquire.
“What do you want for dinner?”
I’m not the best cook. In fact, the other day I had to ask on twitter if I could make the same oven fries with vegetable oil as I was all out of olive. Because oil is oil, right? However, there are a few items on our menu that are raved over. An example of which is ravioli. A bag of frozen meat-filled ravioli, a bottle of store-bought alfredo sauce. I could never be a food blogger for many reasons, but mostly because that’s about as homemade as I get. It is a reasonably light choice all my kids can agree on, though. Including Abby, who still prefers foods on the softer side.
“Would you like me to make ravioli?”
So it may be the age old question that is asked every night, but my daughter’s toddler tongue helps mix it up when ravioli’s involved.
“Olie-olie-olie!”, she calls for in agreement.
I have to admit, it’s become one of my favorites, too. Not because I enjoy the dish that much, but I can’t get enough of her translation. I would fix “olie-olie-olie” every night of the week if I could, as long as Abby never changes the way she speaks. That’s completely doable, right? More so than my eldest excited for asparagus, anyway.
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
