Corn on the Cob

Ahhh...there's nothing like a barbecue to welcome spring! To celebrate the first long day of Daylight Savings Time, we feasted on ribs and corn on the cob--Max's first experience with both. I was worried he wouldn't be able to eat the corn off the cob, but he did just fine. Here he is showing off his new talent:

Bad Words

Let me preface this post with a warning (and grandmothers, this basically means YOU): Do NOT read any further if you will go blind upon seeing/hearing the F-word.

This morning, I was in the kitchen washing breakfast dishes while Max sat watching television in the next room. As I did my chores, I looked down and noticed that the dog was licking a sippy cup that Max had left on the floor.

"Stop it, Abbey!" I scolded her.

Max wandered into the room. "What did she do, Mommy?" he asked.

"She was licking your cup," I replied.

"That fucking Abbey," he said, shaking his head in disappointment.

I seriously don't know where he gets this stuff, but I for one plan to watch my mouth a little more closely in the future. Sheesh.

Manners

We are trying to teach Max basic manners--you know, like please, thank you, yes ma'am, no ma'am, etc.

The problem is that he has trouble pronouncing the final -m sound in ma'am; the result is that he goes around saying yes, man, and no, man.

So instead of a polite little boy, he sounds like an aging hippie.

It's Pat!

Max and I went to Lowe's home improvement store on Friday to buy some paint. The woman who helped us was, well, a bit masculine, to say the least. She was wearing overalls and combat boots, and a bandana covered her buzz-cut. She wore no makeup, and when she addressed us, her voice was rather deep. She even moved like a man. However, I was still aware that she was female.

Max, on the other hand, was a little more confused. As I was trying to explain my order to "Pat" (as I have begun calling her in my mind), Max inquired loudly, "Mommy, what is THAT?"

I'm sure I turned twelve shades of red, but I ignored him for the moment and continued talking, a strategy that just served to make him MORE curious. He tugged on my sleeve impatiently. "Mommy, what is THAT?" he asked again, this time blatantly pointing at Pat.

I was mortified. I tried to pretend that I didn't know what he was talking about. "What is what, sweetheart?" My eyes darted frantically and finally rested on the bucket of wooden sticks on the counter. "Oh, that--THAT is a paint stirrer!" I announced triumphantly and handed him one, sure I had dodged any further embarrassment.

"No, Mommy--THAT!" he yelled, throwing down the stick so he could again point directly at Pat. "Is that a boy or a girl, Mommy? Is that a BOY or a GIRL? "

There was no avoiding it this time. I was mortified. In retrospect, I should have just honestly answered his question and forged on, but I was so humiliated that I again ignored it. Luckily, Pat just let it go, too.

When I told Teri about the ordeal later, she said the girl had obviously dressed that way for a reason, and she was probably HAPPY that Max couldn't discern her gender. I know she is probably right, but it doesn't make me feel much better. I'm sure it won't be the last time something like this happens, and I hope I react more tactfully next time. Live and learn, I guess.

True Love

Well, most of the time, anyway...

Potty Training: Mission Completed!

Well, I can honestly say that we are now officially FINISHED with potty training. We started in earnest when Max turned two, and he is now exactly two and a half. He no longer needs a Pull-Up at any time, including nighttime. He wakes up dry every morning, and he has learned to hold it when he does not have immediate access to a bathroom.

He loves to tell anyone who will listen, "I'm a big boy, and I don't pee pee in my pants!" We also know when he is preparing to do number two because he will politely announce, "Please leave me alone. I need privacy."

Be sure to congratulate him the next time you see him.

Budding Artist

I introduced Max to fingerpainting this week, and he LOVED it! It's an activity that's tailor-made for him: creative and extremely messy at the same time. I have to admit I got in on the action, too.

I love this picture of his tiny dimpled hands.