Archive for the 'Use Your Words' Category

Mr. Malaprops

May 22, 2008 | Antique Embarrassment, Use Your Words

Sometimes, in a fit of motherly passion, I”ll scoop Sean up and smother him with kisses, telling him he’s so cute that I can’t stand it.  And then he squiggles and wiggles out of my arms and runs off, laughing and yelling “Yucky!”

Last week, we were at the grocery store, and as we were checking out, he was chatting up the cashier, a grandmotherly type. 

“You’re cute!” she cooed at him as I ran my credit card through the machine.

“Yeah but my mom can’t stand me,” he told her.  “She says that all the time.”  And then for some reason,  he offered her this weird, crooked, sad little smile.

The cashier narrowed her eyes and looked at me suspiciously.

It probably didn’t help that Sean had a dirty face and had dressed himself that morning as a Hip Hop Rap artist on a golf outing.

I shut my eyes and shook my head ever so slightly. 

The effort it was going to take to explain that it was the level of his cuteness that I can’t stand vs. him which I can stand very tolerably (sigh), exceeded my mental bandwidth at that particular moment.  So I didn’t even try. 

I think I exceeded my mental bandwidth just typing that sentence.

In some local ladies Bible study, there’s a Wal-Mart cashier asking for prayers for the little boy whose mother can’t stand him.  

Kicked Out

December 9, 2007 | Use Your Words

Earlier in the week, Sean and I were in Target.  He was being loud.  Happy loud, but loud.  Happy loud is annoying, but not nearly annoying as Unhappy Loud. Still, it was LOUD.

I told him that he needed to pipe down so that we didn’t get kicked out of the store.

“Kicked out?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.  “You are disturbing the other customers and the store manager might kick us out of here.”

“Kicked?” he asked incredulously. “Out?”  His eyes widened in disbelief.

He stopped along side the cart, and with a worried and questioning expression, demonstrated a swift little soccer kick for verification.

I nodded.

“Well that wouldn’t be very nice,” he declared, quietly.

Perhaps I should have stopped here and taken the time to explain the concept of metaphorical speech, but I was too busy enjoying the not loud.  And what do I know, the manager of Target could very well be literally kicking people out of the store.

I know there was a lady in the Christmas aisle talking loudly on her cell phone that I wanted to kick. Out.

The New Amen

July 11, 2007 | Use Your Words

Three-year-old ears hear everything. Every. Thing. They are omnipotent little creatures.

No matter how preoccupied you may think they are with your contrived distractions, they are listening and taking in every word, mentally crouching like a hungry tiger, waiting to pounce at just the right opportunity to gobble up your tender juicy pride.

Sunday morning at church, Sean was busy racing his Lightning McQueen matchbox car up and down my arm and gobbling up Goldfish by the fistful –  seemingly oblivious to the inspired and impassioned sermon about hell, fire and brimstone.

Just as the preacher paused for dramatic effect, Sean comments rather loudly, “Well THAT doesn’t sound good!”

And indeed it did not.

Flip Flops

July 10, 2007 | Use Your Words

When Sean was just a little guy, maybe around 18-months-old, we were sitting on the floor by the door that looks out into our back yard, watching the squirrels play hide and seek and flit and zip around.

One squirrel had regrettably decided to bury an acorn in a fire ant pile. When he discovered his mistake, the poor little fella began erratically flipping and flopping like a crazed acrobat trying to shake off the angry ants. Having been bitten by my fair share of fire ants, I felt sorry for him, but at the same time it was quite amusing to watch.

“Sean, look at the squirrel flip flopping!” I said. He began laughing hysterically until tears rolled down his cheeks. “Fwip fwops!” he repeated over and over as he pointed to the back yard. It was the funniest two words he had ever heard and the more he said it, the funnier it got. And the more he laughed, the more I laughed at him laughing.

And to this day, he still calls squirrels flip flops. It has become part of our family’s own unique vernacular that makes absolutely no sense to anyone else.

The other day at the playground, Sean exclaimed, “Mommy! Look at the flip flops!” Confused, all the other mothers looked at their feet.

I didn’t even try to explain.

Does your family have any “special” words?

What I Said

June 28, 2007 | Antique Daddy, Use Your Words

What I said:  Done with the milk?
What I meant:  Would you pleeeez not leave the milk out?
What I wanted to say:  Stop leaving the damn milk out.

What I said:  I need to go to the store (sigh).
What I meant:  I have to defrost or chop something for dinner and I don’t feel like it.
What I wanted to say:  I’m not really hungry. Y’all are on your own for dinner.

What I said:  Are these papers important?
What I meant:  These papers have been on my kitchen counter for a week and you need to move them. Now.
What I wanted to say:  I’m throwing these papers away.

What I said:  Can I make you a sandwich?
What I meant:  Do you have to spread the contents of the fridge and pantry across the entire kitchen to make a measly sandwich?
What I wanted to say:  Get out of my kitchen before I turn on you with a spatula.

What I said:  Thanks for fixing my computer.
What I meant:   I love how you take care of me.
What I wanted to say:  I’m glad I married you even if you leave the milk out. 

Antique Carnivore

June 27, 2007 | Mildly Amusing, Parenting Gone Awry, Use Your Words

Sean has never been much of an eater, but when he was around 18-months old eating stopped almost entirely.  Somedays we are lucky to get five calories in him.  We try not to worry about it because watching us nervously wring our hands at the dinner table has not increased his appetite.  Wise people say when he’s hungry he will eat.  Wise people are wrong.

In an effort to encourage eating, we tell Sean that if he hopes to grow up to be big, he’s going to need to eat something — specifically something not made of orange dust or coco/fruity/frosty/gummy/happy stuff – something with protein to build bones and muscle, something like meat.  

Apparently he has been giving this concept some consideration because the other day we had this conversation:

 “Mommy, I’m going to start eating MEAT like you so I can be big -  like you!” 

“You eat MEAT all the time and you are willy willy big (holding hands out in front of him in a big circle.” 

“That’s fabul  ….. hey, I’m not that big.” 

“You eat sooooo much MEAT!  You eat hamboogas and pork chops and ham and wunch meat and woast beefs and chicken and hamboogas and…. (pauses to think up other varieties of meat) you are big Big BIG!” 

“Look dude, I’m not that big.  Okay?  According to the insurance charts, I’m average.” 

“Oh no mommy – you are SO big (again with the hands in the big circle) because you just eat meatmeatmeat all the time.” 

“You are big MEAT-eating BIG!” (making a circle from front to back like a hula hoop).

“Go away before I eat you.”

I’m The Poodiest

May 24, 2007 | Mildly Amusing, Sometimes Sweet, Use Your Words

School is out for the summer and the days are getting longer. Boy oh boy are the days getting longer. Being the sole teacher/disciplinarian/guardian/playmate/muse of a three-year-old boy from sun up to sun down has given me a greater appreciation for Sean’s teachers — even though they slighted him missed the opportunity to feature him in the school slideshow as prominently as my precious beautiful special boy-genius deserves (wink wink).

By dinnertime, I was exhausted. I set down a bowl of hastily made gourmet macaroni and cheese in front of Sean and then I collapsed into my own chair, too tired to eat. Instead I just sat there and watched him clumsily spooning the little orange spirals out of the bowl and into his mouth. I noticed how the afternoon light from the windows outlined his profile with a tiny white line, illuminating the imperceptible baby fine hairs on his face. I thought to myself if I ever get around to doing a painting of him, this is the scene I would paint, his hair the color of an old penny, his impossibly long dark eyelashes, his face outlined with the iridescent glow of sunset.

He stopped eating and looked at me. He gave me a sweet smile that belied the number of times he’d visited the time out corner today.

“I love you Sean,” I said to him.

“I wudz you Mommy,” he replied as he screwed up his face and shyly pressed his ear into his hunched up shoulder.

“You’re a good boy.”

“You’re a good mama,” he enthused pointing his cheese-encrusted spoon at me for emphasis.

Sigh. I thought about that for a moment. I thought about how I had yelled at him earlier in the day. I’m not that good of a mama. But that boy knows I love him with all of my heart. And hopefully that will cover the myriad of mistakes I make in parenting him on any given day.

“Oh Sean,” I confessed more to myself than to him. “You are a better boy than I am a mama.”

“That’s okay,” he consoled, “You are the poodiest wady in the whole woold.”

Man. I’m really going to hate it when his world gets bigger.

Scorpion Bits

April 19, 2007 | Mildly Amusing, Outsmarted, Use Your Words

“Mommy I’m pretending this scorpion bitted me,” Sean says from the back seat. I look in my rear view mirror to see him stretch a sticky rubbery scorpion the length of his reach.

“No, Sean,” I correct him, “I’m pretending this scorpion BIT me — not bitted.”

“This scorpion bitted you too?!”

Oh never mind.

Eat Taters Hot

April 11, 2007 | Mildly Amusing, Outsmarted, Use Your Words

Last week we had a lot of rain here in north Texas. A lot. Rain is pretty much always needed and wanted here, at least by grownups.

Sean, on the other hand, was missing the sun. He stood at the door to the backyard asking, “Where did the sun go? Is it ever going to come back?”

I decided it was an excellent opportunity to teach a lesson in Earth sciences, so I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and called him over to my desk. I pulled him up into my lap and started drawing.

I drew a picture of our house. In the sky I drew rain clouds and rain pelting The House of Antique. Then above the dark clouds, I drew the sun shining happily. I explained to him that the sun was still there shining as it always has since forever, but that the rain clouds were in the way. I told him that when the wind pushed the clouds away, then we would see the sun again.

He seemed satisfied by that answer, but then he asked me where the moon was. That was a little more complicated, so I drew a picture of the earth with the sun on one side and the moon on the other. I explained to him how when it was daytime here and we were playing or eating lunch, it was night on the other side of the world where everyone was sleeping.

He pointed to the top of the earth and announced jubilantly, “Dat’s the North Pole! Polar bears and penguins and Santa wiv dare!” He was so proud of his display of knowledge.

Then he pointed to the center part of globe I had drawn and just as a foreigner searches for a word, he haltingly said, “Eat taters…hot…wizards whiz…dare.” And then he looked at me pleadingly and waved his hand over the drawing as though that would help it all make sense.

I looked at him and he looked back at me, each waiting for the other say, “Aha! I see!”

So finally I said, “Whuut?”

So he repeated it, only louder this time so that understanding might penetrate my blonde hair, hair that no only looks like a helmet, but also acts like one too, protecting my brain from all incoming useful information. All I could do was stare blankly at him while visions of eating taters hot and/or hot wizards whizzing danced in my head.

Perhaps spurred on by the dumb expression on my face, he kept repeating the mystery phrase faster and louder and more emphatically, “EATTATERSHOTWIZARDSWHIZDARE!” until finally the light bulb went on.

I jumped from my seat and shouted, “THE EQUATER IS HOT AND LIZARDS LIVE THERE!” We high-fived and did the end zone dance. Confetti rained from the ceiling and a girl in an evening gown appeared and presented me with a years supply of Rice-A-Roni and some lovely parting gifts.

No. The part about the confetti is not true, but she did have popsicles.

Batteries

April 6, 2007 | Mildly Amusing, Use Your Words

Last week I needed to use my flashlight and of course the batteries were dead. Of course. Maybe you store your batteries in the fridge, some people do. I store my batteries in the flashlight until they die a dark and lonely death with no one beside them to urge them to “Go to the light! Go to the light!” That way I can always find a dead battery if I need one.

Aside: I don’t think I’ve ever a) been able to locate my flashlight when I really needed it and b) consequently found it “not-dead”. The flashlight is like the armadillo - for the most part, useless, and you never come across one that’s not deader than a doornail.

Anyway.

Sean asked me what I was doing as he watched me working to replace the batteries.

“Well, the batteries ran out,” I said, “So I’m putting in some new ones.”

His eyes grew wide with concern. “They ran out?” he asked sounding slightly alarmed as he peered into the empty cannister.

“Yup.”

“Where did they go?”

I stopped to laugh at the mental image of a pair of C-cell batteries with skinny legs running away to freedom, hand in hand.

That boy, he makes me stop what I’m doing and laugh at least once a day — and that recharges my batteries.

My New Pseudo-Curse Word

February 5, 2007 | Mildly Amusing, Outsmarted, Use Your Words

I am given to the occasional curse word. It’s probably the thing I like least about myself. But it happens. Especially in moments of frustration, and given that I’m a person who is easily and often frustrated, it happens more than I’d like to admit.

And now that I have a child who is omniscient - is aware of all, sees all, hears all, repeats all - I have really made an effort to do better in that regard. But I fail. Oh how I fail.

This morning I was trying to make a pot of coffee, a reasonably simple and familiar task. Just as I was about to put the coffee grounds into the filter basket, I bumped it on the edge of the coffeemaker and coffee grounds went flying everywhere except into the basket. I had coffee grounds in the silverware drawer, all over the counter, on the floor, down my shirt, in the pan of cinnamon rolls I was about to bake, but not one speck in the coffeemaker. Not a good thing for a person who hasn’t yet had any coffee. And of course I said, “dammit!” And then when I stood up from wiping up coffee grounds off the floor, I bumped my head on the cabinet door. And again I said “dammit!” And then I said “dammit” because I couldn’t quit saying dammit and dammit, I really needed some coffee and the coffee gods were conspiring against me!

When I realized that two little ears had taken it all in with great interest, I told him that “dammit” is not a nice word and that mommy shouldn’t have said it and that he should never say it either. Never tell a toddler that. Just don’t. Trust me on this, unless you want to hear your toddler say “dammit” all day long.

As we were sitting down to eat Coffee Grounds flavored cinnamon rolls (They’re crunchy! Want the recipe?) he pretended to bump his knee on the table and began dancing around and hopping on one foot saying, “Oh damage! I bumped my knee!”

And so, there you have it. Damage! My new pseudo-curse word, courtesy of my three-year-old. And really, in a weird sort of way, I think it more accurately reflects my sentiment on those occasions when I’m picking coffee grounds out of my bra.

When Things Are Askew

January 21, 2007 | Mildly Amusing, Outsmarted, Use Your Words

This morning I was trying to get Sean dressed for Sunday school and made the mistake of trying to help him put on his socks. After he yelled, “NO! I DO IT MYSELF!” I deduced that he didn’t want my help. I’m intuitive like that.

For three or four minutes, I watched him wrestle the sock onto his little square Fred Flintstone foot and somehow I managed to resist the unbearable urge to DO IT FOR HIM. After he got his sock on, I noticed that he had the heel part in the front and I advised him that perhaps he might want to turn it around.

“You need to turn your sock around dude,” I said, “Your sock is askew. Can you say askew?”

And then without missing a beat he said, “Okay, but then you have to say God bless you.”

God bless you my funny little boy. How you make me laugh.

Kids Say The Darndest Things

December 27, 2006 | Mildly Amusing, Use Your Words

AM: Sean, do you have poo poo pants?

Sean: No.

AM: Are you sure, because I smell poo poo. Come here, let me check.

(Stands with his back to me and bends over slightly, a pose we call the check for poo-poo-pants stance, one I half way expect airline security personel to add to their arsenal of ways to humiliate the flying public in the coming year. I pull his diaper back to expose the cutest little plumbers crack ever.)

AM: Sure enough, no poo poo, but I smell something.

Sean: Must be you.

Look! A Peemo Boat!

December 26, 2006 | Mildly Amusing, Use Your Words

Photo Temporarily Unavailable

NOT!

Even though Playmobil sounds somewhat like Peemo Boat to the untrained ear, it is in fact not. Christmas is as good a time as any to crush the hearts of little children so that they should learn from the great philosopher Mick - you can’t always get what you want, yet you still have to say thank you. I give it six weeks before this non-Peemo Boat and it’s 78 parts finds its way to the trash heap goes missing.

The most favored toy status has been officially conferred upon the Magna Doodle, a gift from Aunt Annette. Thanks Annette!

And now, this Christmas season, it is finished.

Except for the fight over when/how to take down the tree and and the Discover card bill. Those things of Christmas 2006 shall live on into the coming year.

The Well-Placed Curse Word Is At The Top Of My New Year’s Resolutions List… Again

December 15, 2006 | Use Your Words

Antique Daddy: I can’t believe the language Sean uses.

GULP! I get that sickening “Called To The Principal’s Office” feeling in the pit of my stomach. I am mentally beating my breast and tearing my clothes. Where did I put my sackcloth and ashes? I am caught and I am guilty. I knew that one day it would come to this. I knew that one of these days it would come back to bite me in the…. behind. I knew that kids repeat everything. I knew that I had to overcome my love and appreciation of the well-placed curse word. I was in trouble. I cringed and braced myself for a well-deserved rebuke.

Antique Mommy: (coyly) Oh, really? Whatever do you mean?

Antique Daddy: This morning, he pulls out your computer lap desk from under the bed and he brings it to me and says, “Look Daddy. This lap desk is similar to yours, only smaller.” How many 3-year-olds use the word similar?

Sean: (from under the bed) One!

Antique Mommy: (Heavy sigh of relief — comic relief)

It looks like item one on my New Year’s Resolution list will be the same as it has been for the past 25 years.

A Peemo Boat

December 1, 2006 | Use Your Words

Last year, it was the chicken wipes mystery, which was later solved, thanks to my astute readers who are fluent in toddlerese. Last years chicken wipes are this years ticket whites. We are making progress.

This year’s mystery phrase is Peemo Boat.

When I ask Sean what he wants for Christmas, he will say, “A boat.” And then I say, “What kind of boat?” And then he says, “A Peemo Boat.” And then I say “A Peemo boat?” and walk away scratching my head.

Anyone have any idea what a Peemo boat is? You’ve got 24 days to figure it out.

Nature Call

October 23, 2006 | Antique Daddy, Use Your Words

Little known fact: The Navajo invented their super-secret code not to throw off the other Indians, but because they had toddlers. Everyone with a toddler knows that they are omniscient — they see all, hear all and are acutely aware of all. Navajo code is the only way to keep information, which they will use against you, out of their hands.

This past weekend we stayed in a hotel and we were enjoying breakfast in the dining room when Antique Daddy leans over to me and almost inaudibly whispers, “Nature calls. I’m going back to the room.”

As Antique Daddy makes his way towards the door, Sean announces to the other diners, “DADDY’S GOING ON A NATURE CALL!”

Anyone know Navajo for Nature Call?

God Bless She Who Invented On-Line Shopping

September 14, 2006 | Outsmarted, Use Your Words

Toddlers are very tactile people. They like to touch things. They must touch things. They can’t not touch things.

Nonetheless, as a parent you strive to teach them to overcome their nature and to not touch things. It is very difficult. It requires the ability to repeat “don’t touch” about 40 billion times or until the hinges on your jaw are worn smooth.

And since you yourself have probably been in a store, you know that they are filled with fantastic, wonderful, delightful, sparkly, glistening, visually delicious things that scream at you “Touch me! Go ahead! Touch me! I promise ya, you’ll like it!” as you walk past. And even though you try to ignore the merchandise that shamelessly begs you to publicly fondle it, you can’t. And then when you can resist no more and you pick up the bauble and turn it over and look at it’s sexy bottom for a price you will hear this announcement over the Emergency Broadcast System:

“MOM! PUT THAT DOWN! DON’T TOUCH! LOOK WITH YOUR EYES, NOT WITH YOUR HANDS!”

Spelling Is Impotant

July 30, 2006 | Mildly Amusing, Sometimes Tart, Use Your Words

Anybody Googling for anything antique, usually end up here at Antique Mommy sooner or later — undoubtedly disappointed to find the only antique around here is me.

Today, however, Mr. Google dispatched someone searching for antique coffee urine. There’s plenty of that around here of a morning. I just didn’t know there was a market for it.

Brought To You By The Letter “N”

July 19, 2006 | Parenting Gone Awry, Use Your Words

(Scene: Morning. House of Antique. Sean and the crazy lady.)

Sean: (pulling a hand from behind his back) Mommy! My fingers are stee-eee.

AM: (freaking out) Your fingers are stinky?! What did you touch?! Did you touch poo poo? Because poo poo is bad! Very! Bad! You never, and I mean NEVER EVER touch poo poo. Do you hear me? Come here right now, we need to Clorox scrub your hands.

Sean looks at Antique Mommy and in an act of toddler defiance, grins wickedly and moves his spread out fingers towards his mouth.

AM: Sean! STOP! Do not put your fingers in your… DO NOT… Oh me, Sean, why would you put your fingers in your mouth? Why oh why oh why would you do that?

Sean: I got je-wee on my fingers. They stee-ee.

AM: Oh. Sticky. Well, that’s different. Carry on.