I'm An Embarassment to my Kids...Already! How Can that Be?

Why are we always so hopeful?  We think, "I won't make that mistake".   Until we do.

We think, "I'll be the cool parent!"

And then we find out we're not.  Contrary to all of our completely unrealistic expectations.

I thought I wouldn't have to deal with this until my kids were teenagers.  I was wrong.

I love to listen to loud music in the car.  That's cool, right?

Apparently not.  My nine year old son now insists that I turn the music down a whole block before we arrive at his school.

It's bad enough that they mostly don't think my music is cool (what is THAT all about?), but now the actual volume level is a problem?!

And then today I was with my seven year old daughter at her school.  We walked over to stand under the school overhang, as it was raining.  A little boy in her class was sitting there.

I said, "Hey, Josh!  How are you?  Wow, cool watch!" (He was playing with his Lego watch.)

He muttered something unintelligible.

My daughter leaned over to me and whispered, "Not cool, Mom.  Not cool."

I hissed back, "What?!  Socializing isn't cool?  Being friendly isn't cool?"

I'm doomed.

A Milk-Cam: An Idea Whose Time Has Come

The ubiquitous milk container.  It doesn't look like the one I have at my house though.  Do you know why?  Because somebody filled it up and cut the end open!

At my house, the milk bag always looks like this:



Empty!

And, worse yet, apparently no one knows who emptied it and didn't replace it.

I have decided extreme measures are necessary.

We need a milk container cam.  It would change everything.

Who's with me?

My Husband is a Good Sleeper....Too Good, Really

The other morning I had just gotten up - let me rephrase that - I had dragged myself out of bed against the better judgement of every fibre of my being, because it was almost school time, and I knew I had at least one child to prepare for going to school.  My husband wandered downstairs looking disgustingly refreshed.  He saw my son sitting there, and remarked, "Why isn't he at school already?"

I looked at him closely to see if he was joking.

"Do you honestly mean to tell me," I asked slowly, gritting my teeth, "that you have no knowledge of the fact that he is sick?  That he was up at least three times in the night crying?  That not only did I give him medicine but I also gave our other child medicine as well?  That I also cleaned up vomit from the floor?!"

My husband backed away, shaking his head slowly, as if that would soothe me.

I continued, trying not to yell.  "I was up AT LEAST six times in the night, and I am now completely exhausted and hanging by an extremely thin thread.  And you are telling me that you didn't wake up ONCE?"

My husband regretted asking, I can tell.  I regret marrying such a sound sleeper.  It's downright annoying.  Yawn.

All I Want for Mother's Day is for the Kids to Pick up their Wrappers!

I mean it.  That's all I want.

Wrappers.  Everywhere.  On the coffee table.  On the sides of the couch.  On the floor beside chairs.  Under the ottoman!

I've tried everything.  It's not that I always pick them up myself, then giving them the message that I will do it for them so they can just leave them there.  No, I will tell them to pick them up themselves.  And then yell when they don't!

It just seems like they haven't received the message.  It's not getting through.  Somewhere, somehow, there has been a failure of communication.

Then I think, I should just buy fruit and vegetables and be completely environmentally friendly, so there ARE no wrappers.  That would solve the issue, right?

No.  Because then there are orange peels and grape stems and banana peels left on the coffee table and end tables.  Healthier but STILL something left for someone else to either pick up or yell about!

And the wrappers aren't mostly from junk food - they're from granola bars and cheese strings.  And juice boxes.  Always, always half-full.

And the funny thing is that I remember very well my parents yelling at me for this exact same issue.

So is it just a child thing?  Children have the attention span of gnats and can't remember to put away their garbage?  Is that it?

Is it just an unfortunate fact of parenting that parents have to constantly correct their kids' behaviour so they can become somewhat civilized?

So yes.  All I want for Mother's Day is for my children to pick up their wrappers.  And their laundry.  And the various charging cords that come with all their devices.  And....

Parenting.  It's not easy.  And it's full of wrappers.

I Want to be Like Him, Too!

After a hike, I took my daughter and her friend out for ice cream.  They each got a large cone and we sat in the store while they ate.  They watched the male teenager behind the counter giving out ice cream cones and ice cream cakes to lots of different people.

Finally my daughter exclaimed, "Mommy!  I'm not going to be a Mom when I grow up anymore.  I'm going to be just like HIM!"

Forget raising another generation; who can compete with someone who has all the ice cream?

As we were leaving the ice cream store, we saw what looked like a bird with a broken wing on the pavement.  We were worried and so we went closer to check it out.  "Oh,"  I said in relief, "it's just two birds fighting."

My daughter remarked dismissively, "Oh, they must be brothers."

At least she'll have the ice cream.

They Won't Be Like This When You're Here...I Promise!

We had a new babysitter over the other day to introduce her to the kids.  That was our first mistake.

We should have locked her in to a specific date without a visual of the children in question, and then just run for it the moment she arrived.

But no, I was trying to be a good parent by letting her meet the kids ahead of time.  I gave them a little lecture prior to her showing up about how they needed to behave.

I'm not sure what they were listening to, but it wasn't my 'behave or die' speech.

All three of them were sitting there like little angels until the doorbell rang.  Then all hell broke loose.

As I was trying to introduce the new babysitter, the boys started punching each other with wide sweeping left and right crosses.

Then they started running around and around the house (I instantly regretted that open concept floor plan).  At one point my son was hanging over the end of the couch while the other one slapped his butt vigorously.

I was trying not to die of embarrassment.  I was attempting to convey to the kids with a series of complicated facial expressions that they needed to start behaving yesterday but surprisingly they didn't seem to understand me.

I started stammering that they weren't usually like this and that she just needed to get to know them, although I was beginning to wonder if that was ever going to happen after this little display.

I tried to get things under control by telling them to get ready for bed.  My youngest immediately stripped and began running naked around the house.  I was glad we were starting to see some control happening.

When the door closed behind her, I rested my head on it for a few moments.  I was speechless.  I wasn't sure what had just happened!

I was only clear on two things.  One: we need to get out a lot more and hire babysitters every night of the week so the novelty wears off, preferably immediately, and Two: this was never going to happen because word would spread to every person of eligible babysitting age that my kids were irredeemably insane.  Fabulous!

When Did I Become Decrepit? Oh, And Happy New Year 2012!

It's a New Year.  After I woke up after the Eve party and apologized to my liver, I thought about the year 2012.

I don't really believe in making resolutions.  I'm not anti-resolution, or anything.  But it seems to me it should be a whole lifestyle thing, right?  Also, we can't make resolutions about being perfect because that is an impossible goal and therefore self-defeating and will set everyone up to be depressed anyway, which can't be good.

(That was cheerful!  Way to start off the year.)

I have realized, though, that there are a few things I am going to strive for.

To back up a little, we had a babysitter the other night.  She just turned twelve, and yet she has a Blackberry and a laptop.  I don't own either of these things.

It made me feel  old and decrepit.  And out of touch.  Did I mention 'technophobe'?  I think that about covers it.

Does it count that I did own a laptop (used) for about one week before my daughter vomited directly onto the keyboard from about two inches away and which never turned on again after that (can't really blame it)?  I don't think so.

Clearly I need to get into the 21rst century. 

I do have a cellphone, but it's the kind I have to crank it up to use (joking, but it's pretty old and extremely basic).

The point is, having the year change has made me feel older.  That's surprising, isn't it.  It's funny how that works.

Yesterday I was telling my oldest son (nine) that I was going to teach him how to cook, and he paused and considered it.  "Okay", he sighed finally, "I guess I have SOME free time to do that."

'Some' free time?  He's rolling in free time!  He has nothing BUT free time.  His WHOLE LIFE has been a joyride of complete and utter I-make-all-his-dinners-and-do-his-laundry-and-buy-everything-he-needs F.R.E.E. T.I.M.E!

Not to be melodramatic about it.

Maybe I need to get out more this year.  So I'm going to strive for some more quality moments out with family and friends; experiences instead of stuff, as they say.  I plan to enjoy good music, food and wine during even better moments.  I'll continue my focus on health and running; that goes without saying.

Oh, and I've got my eye on a Kobo.

Parenting: Easy? Never!

I read an article in the paper today entitled, "Parenting Is Not Always Easy".  What?  That seems to imply that parenting is usually or even sometimes easy, when my opinion is that parenting is never easy.

And don't get me wrong. I love being a parent.  It's my most favourite job.  Is it completely worthwhile?  Yes.  Would I do it again?  Yes.  Is it often fun and interesting and wonderful?  Yes.  But easy?  No way.

It's the hardest job I have ever done.  Again, not because it's so terrible, but because it's so important.  We are raising these three little people who will become big people who we hope will be compassionate and positive contributors.  This is a huge job.  There are so many things that can go wrong!

And children are extremely vulnerable.  The worry alone is hard.  Worrying about whether they're eating right and enough.  Worrying if they're sick.  Worrying if they get a note from the teacher about behaviour and whether it will become a pattern....or maybe that's just me.

And there are so many details; so many decisions to make at all times.  You think planning a wedding is hard?  Try raising a human being!  The details never stop!  With every phase, they just change to different details.

Thank goodness we have the hugs, the 'I love you's', the holiday excitement, the fascination with watching little people learn and grow.

The worst part is that, although I want to do the right thing, it's not always clear what that is.  Most of the time you just take a deep breath and take a leap of faith.  You do what you think is right and you hope against hope that everything will work out okay.

All you parents out there, I think you know what I mean.  I've decided that the hardest jobs are the most worthwhile.  And anyway, easy jobs are for amateurs.

Now That's Sincerity!

My sons were arguing, as unfortunately they do a lot.  My one son had written his brother a note that said, 'You are a big fat dummy!'  I was happy he was practicing his writing skills, but really... the content left something to be desired.  Deciding that a 'natural consequence' would be best, I told him he now had to write a note saying sorry to his brother.

He wrote the note and I took a look at it hopefully.  It said, starting off in really tiny letters that coincidentally kept getting bigger and bigger:  'I am sorry  that you are a BIG FAT DUMMY!'

Ah, sincerity.  It's a beautiful thing.  On to the next note...

I Am Not, Repeat, NOT Cranky!

It seemed like a good idea at the time.  My son had apparently grown an entire foot since last winter, and I didn't have any warm pants he could wear, so I thought I would take all the kids to Zellers to buy pants.  I usually try to avoid taking even one child shopping, let alone three, so I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking but let's say I was extremely optimistic.

It started out well.  When I picked them up at school, they wanted to have friends over, so I said enthusiastically that we couldn't do that because we had to go shopping!  Surprisingly, they didn't pick up on my happiness.  They became very upset and complained loudly about it.  So we were off to a good start.

We got into the van.  My one son began going on and on about how the last thing in the world he wanted to do right then was go to Zellers.  I tried to lighten the mood by talking about my oldest son's birthday.  That backfired, as my daughter began crying because it wasn't HER birthday.  You can't anticipate these things.

I noticed I was clenching both my jaw and both hands on the steering wheel.  I said, "Can everyone just stop being so cranky?"

My son yelled, in the most irritable voice ever, "I am NOOOOTTTTTTT cranky!!!"

There was a startled pause, and then we all began laughing hysterically.

I felt much less cranky after that.

You've Got to Watch Those Dragons!

My oldest son was telling my middle son a story, the kind I used to read where you could make decisions about what would happen next, and turn to the corresponding page.  Except Colin was making the whole story up on his own.  He was saying, "You are walking your dog and it turns into a dragon.  What...Do...You...Do?"

My middle son, who was taking the whole thing very seriously, didn't blink an eye or miss a beat.  He spoke quickly and forcefully.  "I punch it in the privates."

This was an acceptable answer so my other son continued with his story.

I was laughing very, very hard.

I asked my daughter the same question, and she replied, "When it's a baby dragon we can hold it and rock it and sing 'rockabye baby'!"

It's All About The Green

I was cleaning out closets today; always an inspiring task.  Although the kids had been playing outside for awhile, they were getting a bit, how can I put it nicely, rangy.  I was getting frustrated and it built until I was having what my friend and I call a 'drop-kick moment'.  I think the term is pretty much self-explanatory.  Anyway, although all my son wanted to do was play Wii, I dragged everyone out to a waterfall.  There is a trail through the forest first beside a creek and then you reach the waterfall.

I didn't realize how stressed out I was until I was on the trail.  I looked around me at all the trees and leaves.  It was like instantaneous relaxation.  I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.  It was amazing.  And I had an epiphany.  This isn't a new thought, of course, and I've had it before - but it just really hit me today that we need more beautiful things, more green spaces, in our hurried lives.

This is why I love cities like London, England and Paris, France.  In London there are huge beautiful green squares right in the middle of a busy city.  In Paris, there is beautiful architecture, art, and food.  You will be walking along a beautiful cobble stoned street and all of a sudden you will find a statue or a fountain.  Quebec City is also beautiful, so it's not just Europe.

But imagine if we had more of these green spaces all over the cities.  Imagine if the highways could incorporate aspects of beauty.  I love it when the highways have a strip of wild green space in the middle - true green space left to go wild, because no one can do it like Mother Nature can.  When it's left truly wild, there are many different heights and textures and colours of wild greenery. 

When I was at the waterfall trail today, I don't know if it was all the shades of green on the leaves and the moss on the rocks, the calming browns of the tree trunks, or the sound of the rushing water.  But I felt very calm and relaxed and happy.

The kids loved the trail.  They went up close to the waterfall and felt the cool spray of water.  They walked across the bottom of the waterfall on the rocks.  They built a bridge over the creek with logs.  We had to tear them away from it, in fact.

I said to my son, "See?  You can play in a video game or you can come outside and experience life firsthand!'

He looked at me blankly and said, "Can I play Wii when we get home?"

Sigh.

Raising Two Boys and a Girl - Equal, and Different

A couple of people lately have asked me what it's like to raise a girl, and if girls are truly different than boys.  "Is the Pope Catholic?" I'll reply.

I know that each child is completely unique, and some girls are much more active than some boys.  I only have my experience to go on. 

My daughter is a complete girlie girl.  And I'm surprised that she is, because she has two older brothers and she has been surrounded by all things boy from birth.  Yet she wants to wear dresses every day.  She loves to play princesses and babies.

She carries a baby doll around with her everywhere.  She covers all her babies in blankets, feeds them, cuddles them and talks to them.  Once she was playing at a park, and she was pretending a pile of sticks was her baby.  A pile of sticks, people.  When I told her she had to leave it at the park, she 'tucked' the pile in and then when she ran away she kept looking back and blowing kisses at it. 

My boys use sticks for swords and light sabres.  I think it's the testosterone.  They are both very different in personality, but they still love playing 'war' and 'attack'.  They beg me to let them wrestle.  They love to play the 'pile on me' game - always a favourite at adult parties, also.  They seem to be constantly in motion, and I swear it is impossible to wear them out.  I love their quick laughter and exuberance.

My daughter is much more sensitive than the boys.  If you even raise your voice or use a stern tone with her she is likely to cry.  The boys don't seem to notice when I yell right in their ears.

Once I took one son and my daughter to my work, optimistically sure that I could keep them quiet for 30 minutes so I could finish a few things.  The entire time my daughter lay on the floor and coloured quietly.  My son was climbing my chair, climbing on my desk, opening all my drawers and cupboards and literally bouncing off the walls.  Never again.

I hope all this will help with being well-rounded, because although Ella knows every Disney princess, she also knows all about Pokemon and Star Wars.  And she'll play those things with the boys, but then they have to play with her as well, and have tea parties too. 

And although the boys chug their tea and it runs out of their nose and then they burp, I'd like to think they are getting the hang of tea party etiquette.  Slowly.  Okay....not at all.  But still, they know what tea parties are, and they enjoy them.

Another good thing is that boys don't faze my daughter in the slightest.  I loved it at my older son's birthday party, when she was the only little girl sitting there with eight other big boys.  She looked at them all and said, "So, guys, what are we going to play now?"

He Does Love Me!

My eight year old son broke my heart today.  He had worked out a plan in which we would bike together to Staples to get some supplies for school, and then bike to Booster Juice on the way back.  As we were about to leave this morning, he said to me, "You know Mom, we hardly ever do anything just the two of us...it's too bad."

That was when my heart broke.  He's the oldest of three and in school every day, so whenever he's home on the weekend he's always with his brother and sister.  And often he goes fishing with his dad, or his dad takes him to hockey while I have the other two, so he's right.  It's really never just the two of us. I mean, it was for the first whole three years of his life, but he doesn't remember that.

It made me realize that I need to carve out some 1:1 time for each child, which of course is easier said than done, but still that is my new goal.  The one thing we do together is bike, although often I have my youngest in the bike seat and my other on another bike. I've been meaning for a long time to go rock-climbing with him too...so I've got to step up and just do it.  (That should be a slogan of some kind.)

It means a lot to me that he still cares about things like this.  He's the one who will no longer let me kiss him goodbye on the playground.  Or even accompany him on the playground!  But at night, after I tuck him in, he always likes to talk to me, just the two of us.  And he asks me where I'll be in the house, just so he knows.

It's nice to know that although I may not be able to hold his hand in public anymore, there's still a great bond there.  After he made that statement, I tried not to show how I felt, and I tried not to overreact.  I just said, "Okay, then...so we'll do this again in one hour, and then again tomorrow, and the next day...does that work for you?"

Good Morning...or Not

This is how my day started.  A doll was being banged on my head.  "Wha-at?  Stop doing that!"  I told my daughter.

She looked at me in wide-eyed innocence.  "But I'M not doing it, Mommy.  It's Baby!"

Okay.  I took a deep breath.  "Baby, stop doing that!"

Of course Baby started to cry.

Downstairs to breakfast.  My oldest son, who had woken up earlier, was eating Fun-Dip.

"We don't eat Fun-Dip for breakfast!"  I informed him, although he knew that already.

He thought fast.  "Well, I already had my breakfast."

"We still don't eat Fun-Dip at 8 a.m. in the morning."

Then I thought, hmmmm.  I looked around the kitchen.  It was spotless.  (Let me rephrase that.  My kitchen is never spotless, not with three kids.  But it was as clean as I had left it the night before, which was a dead giveaway.  My kids are seemingly incapable of having any kind of food item without leaving a complete chaotic mess in their wake.)

When I asked my son suspiciously what he'd eaten for breakfast, he said a waffle, but I knew there was only one left and it was still in the box.  Meanwhile my other son told me he wanted a waffle for breakfast, so I put it in the toaster.

Then I talked to my other son about how when he lies to me it hurts my feelings.  The usual parent stuff.  He said sorry and said he would have a waffle after all.  A real one.

I told him that his brother was having the last one.

He protested, "But that's all I want for breakfast!"

Other son:  "But I asked first!  I want the waffle!"

After an exhausting go around, my middle son said, "Oh, okay, I'll let Colin have the waffle - I'm going to have cereal."

I sighed and thanked him.  Finally, finally we had resolved the waffle issue.  Who wants to argue over waffles?  I can think of better things to argue about...like toast!

But no.  Colin said, "I don't want the waffle anymore anyway."

This is the part where I started banging my head on the kitchen counter.  I took (another) deep breath.

"I've gone to the trouble to make the waffle (okay, I popped it in the toaster - but still!) and SOMEONE IS GOING TO EAT THE WAFFLE!"

Ryan said he would eat both his cereal and the waffle.

You see where I'm going, don't you?  No one ate the waffle.

Kids are so cute and interesting, but they sure can drive you crazy, can't they?

I can't think of any other examples right now - oh wait, they're all coming back.

Like when we're driving to my parents' cottage and Ryan yells grumpily, "Are we THERE YET?"

"Umm...we haven't left the driveway, yet...so that would be a no," I inform him cheerfully (note that I'm still cheerful at this point).

Then he demands to know exactly how much longer to the cottage, in seconds, and when you do the math in your head and tell him because he insists he absolutely has to know the exact total, he starts counting. "1, 2, 3 ...." 

And you think, it is four and a half hours to get to the cottage.  And you realize with a sense of desperation that if you have to listen to him counting the entire time, you are not going to make it!

This is when I put the earphones of my iPod in my ears and when I notice gesticulating, I just mouth, "Can't hear you - I've got earphones in my ears!"  (It works like a charm - I highly recommend it.)

The other thing is when they want a snack so they'll ask me what food we have.  I will patiently list all the food we have in the cupboard and the fridge that they can have for a snack.  I will wait.  There will be a long pause, and when I finally prompt them with, "Well...what will you have, then," they'll look at me blankly and say, "What do we have again?"

My new answer:  "Food - go eat it! Oh, and....love you!"

They Love Each Other....They Really Love Each Other!

We've just arrived home from a two-week camping trip in Cape Breton.  We drove down with the three kids.  A bigger update will follow but for now I'll just present one moment of the touching brotherly love my boys demonstrated toward each other during the trip.  The boys were getting on each other's nerves so I was trying to redirect by encouraging them to play a game.  They started playing 'Who Am I', where one thinks of a movie or book character and the other person has to guess who it is by asking questions.  My older son said, "I have someone in mind!  Who am I?"

My other son, still annoyed, crossed his arms and asked sourly, "Are you a dumbo stinkypants?"

Awww.

Stop It, Mommy!

Once you're a mom, it's hard to turn off that mom voice.  Even when you wish you could.  Even when you can tell that you're annoying your child, but you just can't stop!  Heck, sometimes I'm annoying MYSELF, and I still can't turn it off.

I know I can't keep my children in bubbles, and I know they need to make mistakes in order to learn.  So why is it so hard to let them do it, then?

I think it's because we're also supposed to protect our children; that's our job too.  And I love my children so much that it's hard to see them hurt themselves or fail something.

They're young yet, as well.  I hope the 'letting go' will happen more when they're teenagers....because I need several years to practice!

My oldest son (eight) was at a track meet, and I was there to watch him.  I kept bugging him about drinking enough fluids so he wouldn't get dehydrated, and he kept brushing me off (rolling his eyes and walking away).  But I was persistent, unfortunately for him.

I followed him around, holding out his juice box.  "How about some apple juice?"  I suggested brightly.  "What about water?  Hmmm?  Some nice cold water?"

I suppose the key would be pretending that I didn't care at all, but by then it was too late for that.

"You need to drink enough fluids...." my voice trailed off feebly as my son literally ran away from me.

Later on I noticed that he and his friends were lying on their backs, having a chugging contest with their water bottles.  They were each trying to drink the entire water bottle all at once; that was the game.

You'd think I would be happy that he was finally drinking something.  Sadly, no.

I rushed over and in front of all his friends I said, "Colin!  You shouldn't do that.  You're about to run and you don't want to run with tons of water sloshing around in your tummy."

Again, the rolling of eyes and the sigh.  Poor kid.  I can't help myself!  I'm going to have to learn how to bite my lip and keep my mouth shut.

The other day my mom was admonishing my 32 year old brother about wearing sunscreen, and he rolled his eyes as well, just like my son.  I guess some things never change. 

As I was leaving the track meet, without thinking I yelled in earshot of all his friends, "Bye Honey! I LOVE YOU!"  

Oops.

Food, Wonderful Food!

At dinner I dripped sauce all over my shirt.  It reminded me of when my children were first introduced to solids.  What a great big mess - I mean, milestone! 

I was wondering how my son would do with solids, because he had already proven himself to be not a great eater, even with breast milk. I had tried many things, with not much success.  However, several other new moms had assured me that every child in the world loved Cheerios.  So I put some on his highchair and watched in happy anticipation for him to eat them and love them and instantly begin demanding an entire turkey dinner....basically, my expectations were pretty low and extremely reasonable.

Colin picked one up (I held my breath), examined it closely, and then leaned over and dropped it.  He liked what he saw, and proceeded to drop every single Cheerio (along with my hopes, but let's not be too dramatic - oh wait...too late) onto the floor.  I'm not sure...is it a step forward that he has graduated from merely stashing the food in the seat of his highchair to dropping it all over the floor?

My son's unique approach to food makes at least one resident of our household especially happy:  the cat.  Toby (aka "The Glutton") will be upstairs in a deep sleep, but if I so much as glance at the can opener, he will hit the ground running and be in the kitchen in one nanosecond flat.  The sound of the can opener used to be the only thing that could motivate Toby to move.  But now, as soon as he hears Colin getting placed in his highchair, he comes running as if all the catnip in the world is about to disappear.  He knows his food will be deposited shortly.  Is it wrong to wish my son wanted to eat as much as my cat does?

There is a lot of food for Toby to clean up, anyway.  I knew that children were messy eaters.  But I had no idea HOW messy.  Colin will be eating his rice cereal, lulling me into complacency, and all of a sudden a well-placed left hook will come out of nowhere, the spoon careens off-course, and there is cereal in my hair, on the tablecloth, on the adjacent chair, and behind Colin's ear.  It's amazing.  I think it defies the laws of physics, but I'm far too busy to pursue this groundbreaking phenomenon.  Does Stephen Hawking know about this?  I look at my beige tablecloth and wince.  Note to self:  buy dark coloured, washable tablecloth!

Colin also started hiding Cheerios in strange places, like in my shoes or in various drawers.  He is having a lot of fun putting objects in different places.  The other day I let him play with the cordless phone (I know, I know - a classic rookie mistake) and then when I needed it, I couldn't find it.  And I couldn't use the 'locator' button, because I had turned it off so he could play with it.  Note to self:  when the phone rings, it doesn't really help to yell in desperation into the air, "I'm HERE!"  Anyhow, I finally found it pushed way back under the couch.  I hope this is all contributing to his intellectual development in some small way.   Because God knows his nutrition isn't!