Tattletale

The neighborhood we live in is one big circle, closed in by a gate at the front. Somehow, we have 4 different streets in this small third of a mile length of road. It seems to me it would be easier to just make it one big circle or court, but that has nothing to do with this story.

When we first looked at this neighborhood it was no where near complete. There were empty lots and long strips of land with no sidewalks. Since then, which was just August 2011, a new house has been started almost every single month. Which means lots of construction, lots of large trucks and loud noises, and an audience if I decide to mow the yard. (Which also has nothing to do with this story, but is still extremely annoying. If I wanted to be stared at while sweating I'd go to a gym...or a pool.)

For reference:

The weekend we bought our land.

(Please forgive my blurry pictures. I'm not the best with photoshop, which I don't even own.)

2011
The red X is our land.

2012
What a difference!

So all of that setup is to tell a funny story about Brenden. His friends from across the street often play in the yard next door, which is a house that is almost completed. I don't let the kids play over there in case there are any nails or other construction debris that could be harmful. I know that makes me over protective and helicopter parent-ish, and even a little bit selfish since it's only because I don't want to have to deal with the insanity of taking a child to the ER on the off chance that they do get hurt. It's a constant fight that I will be very happy to end when the new family moves in.

We were driving home from school and Brenden was drilling me, as usual, about what he was allowed to do when we got home. "Can I go outside?" "Can I ride my bike?" "Can I play with Grant and Conor?" "Can I play in the front yard?" "Can I play in the dirt?"

That last question is what started our entire debate. He would ask if he could play in the dirt, I would repeat that no, I did not want him stepping on a nail or getting hurt. He would cry and whine and flail and then ask again. Repeat for what felt like hours. Finally, he decided he was done with the conversation and said,

"You're mean! You're not my mommy anymore! I'm gonna live with GRANDMA!"

I couldn't help it...I laughed. He said it with such force and he meant it. He glared at me from the backseat and I could see his brain working to decide what to say next. Finally, he made his decision.

"I'm gonna live with grandma Ginger. You're mean! I'm gonna TELL YOUR MOM!"

Yes, he threatened to tell my mom on me. You can imagine the look I got when I busted out laughing again. I'm totally against laughing at my kids when they are upset, or whining at them when they are whining, but I just couldn't help it.

And mom, if you're reading this, thanks for telling Brenden you supported my decision. I think he forgave us. :)

Brenden-isms

Brenden has been extra funny, at least to me, lately. The other day we were at my friend Bre's house when, out of nowhere, he very seriously said, "My daddy shoots zombies."

No more watching Doomsday Preppers in this house.

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One night I was laying down with Brenden listening to his prayers and telling him his bedtime stories. He placed his hands on either side of my face, looking very serious.

"A really little guy could use the lines on your forehead as a ladder."

Yep, I felt very confident after that.

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The director of Brenden's preschool stopped me the other day when I was picking him up. After laughing at my concerned face and assuring me that Brenden was not in trouble, she told me that he had acted up during their practice for the end of the year presentation. She got onto him and said he started acting right after that.

That wasn't the funny part, though. After they were done he came up and hugged her, smiled really big and said, "Miss Melissa, I just love you! You're the best!" He's learning very early that flattery is a good thing.

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This picture says it all:

Name That Tune

One night last week Brenden asked me to sing him a song that he had heard in the car. "The Take Me Home song!" he squealed, bouncing on his knees. I was at a complete loss and sat there with my mouth hanging open, totally stumped as to which song he meant. I finally asked him to sing it for me, which went something like this:

"Nah nah, nah nah nah, TAKE ME HOME! Nah nah, nah nah nah, TAKE ME HOME! Nah nah, nah nah nah, TAKE ME HOME! TAKE ME HOME! TAKE ME HOME! TAKE ME HOME! TAKE ME HOME!"

He smiled, very proud of himself. "That one, mommy!"

It did have a tune, but not one that I recognized. He sang it for me a few more times, slightly frustrated that I couldn't guess the song. I finally called Tim into his room to see if he could figure it out, but he was just as lost. We finally convinced Brenden to listen for it in the car and let me know which one it was. He agreed, but not without a frown.

Fast forward to a few days later. We're driving home from school and I'm flipping through the radio when, out of nowhere, Brenden yells, "TURN IT BACK! THAT WAS MY SONG!"

I was shocked he had remembered, but even more shocked to find out which song he was talking about.

Not exactly appropriate lyrics, but I'm not correcting him anytime soon. We'll go with "take me home" for now.

Mini Me

We've all heard the warnings about how our children repeat everything they see or hear. That's the main reason we started the "Swear Jar" when Brenden was still a baby, which went into his piggy bank and is still accumulating. (It's also why you'll hear me say "Poop!" if I stub my toe or slam my finger in a door.) I never realized that there was a good side to this as well.

I know Brenden has said and done things that I do that are funny. Just last night we were watching Kung Fu Panda, not sure where this new fascination came from, and there was a small crocodile marching around. He exclaimed, "Oh! Look at the cute little crocodile!" Yes, that definitely came from me.

It's become even more obvious with Lauren that they will do anything I do, bad and good, and lately it has been a lot of the latter. She likes to feed her babies and push them around in the little plastic car or her grocery cart. She tries to change their diapers, wash their hands, and once, even tried to wash her Boots "hair" by dunking his head in the toilet. (Boots is Dora's friend that is a monkey for those who are lucky enough not to know who I'm talking about.) My favorite by far is when one of her stuffed animals or babies falls down, either from being thrown by her brother or falling off of the couch where she has placed them, she immediately picks them up, cradles them, and asks, "What happened?" It is the most adorable, sweetest thing.

Sorry it's so long and for the loud background noises. I never know when she's going to do something adorable. :)

So many parts of parenting are difficult, draining, and downright make-you-want-to-pull-your-hair-out insane. Seeing these little things and realizing that, at least sometimes, I'm doing something right makes the rest of the day a little more manageable. 

This Is Why I Need More Adult Interactions

Brenden is really starting to make sense now, at least when it comes to how well he's speaking. What he's actually saying is a completely different matter. Sometimes it's very logical. Other times...I have no idea. Here are a few of the random conversations I've had with him lately. And yes, most of the time he really does speak with an exclamation point.

Me: "Brenden, you act like a monkey!"

Brenden: "I'm not a monkey! I'm Brenden! I'm a big boy!"

Me, quizzing him on his knowledge of body parts: "Do you have ears?"

Brenden: "Yes."

Me: "Do you have knees?"

Brenden: "Yes."

Me: "Do you have eyes?"

Brenden: "Yep."

Me: "Do you have a tail?"

Brenden: "Nope! I have a booty!"

Me: "Do you have whiskers?"

Brenden: "Nooooo."

Me: "Who has whiskers?" (I expected to hear him tell me one of the dogs names, or maybe a cat."

Brenden: "Daddy! Daddy has whiskers on his face!"

While drawing happy faces...

Brenden: "Draw mommy!"

Me: *draws a happy face with curly hair*

Brenden: "Draw me!"

Me: *draws a happy face with a little hair on top*

Brenden: "Draw Lauren!"

Me: *draws a happy face with a little hair and a bow*

Brenden: "Draw daddy!"

Me: *draws a bigger version of the happy face that was supposed to be Brenden*

Brenden: "Mommy, you didn't draw daddy's crutches!"

In the candy aisle at Walmart...

Brenden: "No! I don't like that! It's gross! It smells like cat poop!"

Me: *blushes* *hurries away from the several people who are now giving me weird looks*

Brenden: "I'm a boy!"

Me: "Yep. Who else is a boy?"

Brenden: "Daddy."

Me: "Good job! What is mommy?"

Brenden: *sly smile* "You're a boy!" *laughs*

Me: "I don't think I'm a boy. What am I?"

Brenden: "You're a boy! Lauren's a boy, too!"

Me: "Okay, crazy. You know I'm not a boy. What am I?"

Brenden: *sighs* *rolls his eyes* "You're a girl. Lauren's a girl, too."

Me: "Thank you!"

What A Compliment

This morning I read about my friend Heather's little girl and what she wants to be when she grows up. Not long after I had this conversation:

Me: "Brenden, what do you want to be when you grow up."

Brenden: "I wanna be daddy."

I think that's a wonderful goal. :)

He's Learning Early

A Kay Jewelry commercial was playing on the television.

Brenden: "Mommy, you like that!"

Me: "Yes, honey, I do like jewelry. Tell your daddy."

Not sure if anyone will take the hint. Haha!

Please??? :)

Funny Things My Kid Says

It's been a long time since I posted a "funny things my kids says." This one, of course, is about Brenden and his pottying. (What else could it be?) :)

Brenden, after getting out of bed for his one trip to the potty that we allow after he's laid down for the night, checks out the contents of the toilet. He had told Tim that he needed to poop, but we know better than to believe him. He'll say anything to get out of bed.

Brenden: "Awww...it's only a little poop. Daddy, I wanna make a BIG poop."

Tim: Dies laughing.

Ever since then he's been all about the "big poops." He obsessed with everything being "big" or "little". He'll tell me all the time that he's a big boy and I'm a big girl.

We definitely love our big boy Brenden and appreciate the hilarious things that he says.

Overheard...just now

(I walk in from getting the diaper bag out of the car, which has my camera in it.)

Brenden: "Daddy's tooting!"

Me: "Cooking? Tooting?"

Brenden: "Tooting."

I look to Tim for clarification.

Tim: "Tooting."

Me: "Nice. Did daddy say excuse me?"

Brenden: "Yes. Excuse me."

Me: "Well, good."

Tim: "Daddy's going to go potty."

Brenden: "Okay! Bye! See you tomorrow!"

I was unaware that the simple matter of going potty was going to take all night. Thanks for informing me, Brenden. :)

They Learn So Quickly

Last night the conversation at bedtime went like this:

Tim: "Brenden, it's time to change your clothes."

Brenden: "NOOOOOO! Wanna play with Jarrett!" (our friends were over with their little boy)

Tim: "It's bedtime. Come on."

Brenden: screams all the way through changing his diaper, putting on his pajamas, taking his medicine.

Me: "Are we ready for bed?"

Brenden: "NOOOOOOOOO!"

Me: "I'll lay down with you for a while."

Brenden: "NOOO! I'm stinky!" (as in, needs his diaper changed, which had just happened 2 minutes before)

Me: "No you don't, silly."

Brenden: "I'm wet?"

Me: "Nope. I don't think so."

Brenden: "Have to go potty?"

Me: "I wish you would go potty in the potty!"

Brenden: sighs, realizing he has used up all of the excuses to not go to sleep yet

Next up? "I need a glass of water!" "My clothes are too tight!" "It's too hot in my room!" And on and on. Why didn't anyone warn me that this started so soon!?!