Archimedes Principle (sort of) and the Boy's Theory of Relativity

I like to bucket water from the kids' nightly bath out onto the pot plants. It makes me feel like I've done something constructive with my day.
One day I was trying to take advantage of Justababy's naptime by doing just this, but Boy wanted me to stop and play. I explained I just needed to finish emptying the bath first.

But...mummy...you can just pull the plug out, you know. *

Then I tried explaining about time - specifically the need to complete tasks within set time frames. Boy was unimpressed.

But...mummy... time isn't real, you know. It's just imaginary. *




*Imagine this in your best god-she's-so-silly tone of voice

Backseat Driver 2

Grandma: Boy, you were very quiet in the car on the way here.

Boy: Yes, I was watching Granddad to make sure he used the proper controls and pedals. 

Stay tuned - I'll ask him when he gets home whether Granddad passed the test.

Mummy meanest

This happened quite some time ago, before Boy could talk quite so well..

My brother was visiting - let's call him Uncle P - he comes and goes a fair bit. One day he popped his head round the doorway and said "I've done something a bit silly"... He then produced a small animal cage.
I thought: ****!! He's bought a dog. (He'd threatened to before, and once called from the pet store - barking dogs in background - saying "I'm going to do it!").

But no. It was worse.

He'd bought a ferret. (I'm not keen on ferrets, are you? Apparently some people like them.)

Anyway, he then disappeared off to work somewhere for a few weeks. After a day or two, it occurred to me that perhaps I should feed the ferret something. I didn't know what ferrets eat and rather than consulting google, I thought: Maybe they like cat food. I know it's palatable to dogs and cockroaches at least.

As Boy was keen to be helpful and just getting the gist of following instructions I asked him to go round the corner to the kitchen and bring me back 2 pieces of cat food. (He could count to 2 - so proud!)

Well I heard some rustling in the cat bowl, then he reappeared around the corner... with nothing in his hand. But he did have a rather odd expression on his face - something like a cross between Ugh and Why-would-my-mummy-do-this-to-me?.

He was swishing something around in his mouth.

......

Poor love must have thought I was a very mean mummy telling him to eat cat food. I pulled the biscuits out and reassured him that I didn't really want him eating it. I asked if he liked it and got an emphatic No for answer.

He did correctly pick up two pieces though. :D

Boy versus Wild Baby

Boy spent this morning making a baby trap for Justababy to live in.
"And that will keep the family safe"

Bit of a worry

Boy is staying with his grandparents. My mum called this evening to share:

Boy was in the kitchen at his grandparent's place having some dinner, with Tony Abbot on in the background saying he disapproved of gay marriage. Grandma and Grandad think it's a complete non-issue and said so. Boy says: Well, I don't like it. It worries me.

Seriously WTF....

A bone to pick

Boy: Mummy, can you come please? I need your help with something.

Me: Ok. What's up?

Boy: Well, you see, there's a Tasteosaurus in the way here.

Me: A Tasteosaurus, huh? What's that then?

Boy: A Tasteosaurus is a kind of dinosaur that steals people's taste buds. But it's in the way. And we need to find a way to make it dead.

Me: Right.

Boy: Oh, I can use this ball to hit it. And make its bones go crunch.

Me: Ok.

Boy: [smacking ground with ball] CRUNCH! And now the meat is coming off them.

What are little girls made of?

Another day, another impossible question:

Boy: Mummy, why don't girls have penises?

Me: Gaaawwwd. I don't know. Because they just don't.

Boy: Maaaaaybe it's so they can fit a vagina and a bottom...?

Me: Yes. Good. Let's go with that.

What are little Boys made of?

Boy: Mummy, do we use tools to make people?

Me: Well, what do you think?

Boy: [laughs] Nooooo, people are not made from nuts and bolts and things like that.

Me: What are people made from?

Boy: .....ummmm.....they are made from babies

Logic bubble

Boy: Naughty Tiger is my imaginary friend

Grandma: Can you see him now?

Boy. No. He's IM-A-GIN-ARY Grandma

Grandma: What does Naughty Tiger look like?

Boy: [sigh] No Grandma. You just can't see him because he's just imaginary. He's not real.

Grandma: Does he have stripes.

Boy: [SIGH] NO!

I bought some cheap Russian vodka on the way home - it came in a bedazzling gold box that opens out a bit like a coffin. Boy thought it was a perfect carry case for Nut. He was having trouble shoving Nut in one day and asked (read: yelled at) Grandma for help.
Oh, no, says Grandma, that's just perfect like that. There's a little gap so Nut can breathe.
No Grandma, says Boy, he doesn't need to breathe. He's Just. A. Toy.

Poor Grandma can't get anything right.

I just called...

Boy: Mummy, who can I call? 

Me: Do you want to call grandma?

Boy: I want to cause emergencies.

Me: You want to cause emergencies?

Boy: Yes, because I have to call them first before I do the emergencies.

Boy has already completed his emergency training too. He just "sat in a chair and listened to some stuff".

Boy Wonder

Boy: [Standing with a blanket over his head] You can’t see me!

Me: Yes I can

Boy: No! You can’t see me!

Me: I can. Here you are [poke]

Boy:.... I can’t see you

Just Desserts

But I just want to eat what I want to eat

We were very spoilt on holidays. Our hosts provided meals including dessert, even at lunch! A Boy could just about get used to that.

One evening he was particularly busy in his own private universe visiting Naughty Monkey (who, by the way, isn’t really naughty, that’s just his name) for a birthday party. So naturally he’d eaten already and didn’t need any dinner. Well, ok, he was thirsty so he’d sit down for some juice. And no, he didn’t even need dessert as he’d already had some. Then pudding arrived....

“Oh, well, I didn’t eat much dessert”

We managed to convince him that he would have to eat some real dinner before getting real dessert. 

Backseat Driver

Daddy, do you know the roads here? ‘Cos they are a bit different to the ones back home. 

I will watch out for the tricky ones.

Our loaner car seat didn’t offer much slumber support, leaving Boy slumped over in an ‘L’ shape when he dozed off, so we bought him a little travel pillow. Which meant he was slumped over with a little pillow behind his neck.

Anyway, he thought it was a pretty neat headset – grabbing one end and speaking (loudly of course) into it.

"Um, yes, we just on the way to Dunedin now. Yes, we just coming up to the intersection now, we just going that way. Ok Daddy? That alright?"

No, I can’t read. I can only read maps.

Songs of Praise

Boy was ecstatic to be home after a whole month away. He rushed around very busily reacquainting himself with his toys and the house. Then he dragged out an old busted up guitar and proceeded to serenade us with some very entertaining lyrics. By the time I got the video out he had moved on to less interesting stuff – you’ve missed the one about someone getting their head bitten off and neck pooed down, for instance – but we got in just before his exhausted, jet-lagged mind succumbed to incoherent jibberish.

Well almost.

If you really want to know.... -

There was a little....

There was a little, little bee and it was very busy

There was a cat that ate it and it wanted the bee to be its mother

But it [something something] and invited it to its family to be its mother

It did it [something] it did it so it would have a mother

It invited it to its family and did what it did from Donaldson’s Dairy

[some other stuff about Donaldson’s Dairy and stuff]

Fying high

On the way back from our holiday, Boy and his fearless sidekick Nut were invited to assist the captain in the cockpit. He showed Boy the controls and explained that was how you moved the plane.

So, he asked Boy, do you think you can fly the plane now?

Um.... well... I don't have my driver's licence yet.

Maintaining structural integrity

I made that wall. The wall is there so the wind doesn't come in and blow me out the window.

The mystery revealed

Because everyone is dying to know the answer to the Quiz

It was a fireman's kit... of course!

Green foam = the hose
Goggles = Gas mask (that's an easy one)
Dummy = An air blower to help the fire
Brush = To scrub the dust off the walls (fires make lots of dust)
Hair brush = 'To fix your hair up' (I suppose helmet head is an ocupational hazard after all)

Master and Commander

You're not the boss in this house Granma, you know.

We're uncertain at this point exactly who is.

Magical Mystery Tour....

.... into the mind of Boy.

Today's quiz - what is this a picture of?
*Hint - this collection of items represents the tools of the trade for a particular line of work.

Double bonus points if you can correctly identify the purpose of each item

Germs, germs, out damn germs

Heading out for the day, I suggested that Boy and I could share a water bottle.

Yes, but mum, do you have wipes so you can clean your germs off before I drink from it?

I explained that it was ok for us to share germs since we were family and were in close contact anyway.

Naughty Tiger doesn't have any family. But Nice Tiger shares his germs with lots of people.

Somehow sharing germs is now a good thing....

The unbearable grossness of sharing

Mummy! Can you please wash this for me?

It's a bit gross. It's got baby slobber on it and that's gross

Boy is still getting the hang of sharing with his sister.

Like a Boy in a tool shop

Boy: Do tigers have bones?
Me: Yes. All animals have bones...
Boy: No they don't. Jellyfish don't have bones.

Sometimes I'm honestly not sure whether I should be proud of how sharp he is.... or annoyed at how sharp he is.

Today we went vacuum shopping. 'Mummy needs a new vacuum cleaner 'cos hers is broken' (Daddy broke it) he proudly announced to anyone who might (not) be interested.
Boy was eying off the Dysons: Can we get one of those funny looking ones? That's the one I want.

Afterwards Boy was promised a trip to the tool shop. Trying Behaviour Modification Tactic #3, Daddy offered Boy a biccie in the car.

No thank you. They have food at Bunnings.

It's Huckle time. Can't rhyme this

Translation:

Huckle Cat, Huckle Cat
What did you do?
I'm reading a newspaper, here on the loo.
Huckle Cat, Huckle Cat
What did you there?
I told you already, now don't stand and stare

Huckle Cat, Huckle Cat
What did you break?
I broke a plant that was growing dead.
Because Mother Cat's plant was growing dead.
I was growing in the tree dead.
So Father Cat had to buy some bougainvillea to go over the fence.
'Cos that's what Father Cat had to do. He bought an orange bougainvililillea

Justababy: Woo Woo Woo

Handy Boy

Check out the gear on this utility belt.*

*Please ignore grubby face and crappy backyard.

A screw loose

I gonna fix it tomorrow. Yes, I gonna screw it up tomorrow.

We got Boy a tool set for his birthday.

He's quite handy with the Phillip's head screwdriver.

We keep finding screws all over the place. We have no idea where they've come from.

We hope nothing important will fall apart.

Working Boy

Boy: [shaking money box] I need some more money!
Me: What do you need money for?
Boy: I need to buy Creamit Monkey* some ice cream and chocolate. He's been very helpful.
Me: Really? How has he been helpful?
Boy: Uuuummmmm. Weeellll. He is waiting for his ice cream and chocolate.
Me: Hmmmm.
Boy: Briiiing briiing. Briiiiing briiiiing. [mimes picking up a phone] Oh, it's Creamit Monkey and he is waiting for his ice cream and chocolate. I have to go and buy him some.
Me: Ok.
Boy: But I need more money first!
Me: [sigh] Maybe you could do some chores to earn money. You know, like daddy goes to work to earn money.
Boy: Oh yes. I would be happy to earn some money. [goes to computer desk and starts thumping on the keyboard] See. Mummy I am earning money now!

* My best attempt at transliteration

Random words of wisdom 2

Me not a tired young man. Me a spider man.

Me gonna live in the chicken house. And... dad can live in the dog house.

Mummy: Priorities!

Boy: No it isn't! They is just pumpkins!

Monsters are 'Straylan animals.

I'm Mr Downer. And daddy is Mr Upper.

I'm a lego girl, in a lego world...

... life's fantastic, strapped to a tractor

"Little Boy" is in the driver's seat and "Mummy" is, erm, riding shotgun.

A creepy little Boy like you

I got a special machine to look inside bodies of adults. Because sometimes they have creepy crawlies living inside them.

That's particularly reassuring in light of his previous medical advice.

One day, when I was pregnant with Justababy, I took Boy out with me to look for baby stuff. Well, first we stopped at Bunnings so he could go nuts in the play ground while I drank a coffee. On the way out I picked up some gardening gloves for him. He was right chuffed. They were too big, but he insisted on wearing them anyway.

So, there I was, browsing the baby shop, when I bumped into my son, his hands held upright to keep the gloves on - like a surgeon attempting to preserve sterility. He threw himself to the ground and began inspecting the underside of a cot, declaring: I looking for creepy crawlies. There's lots of them all over the place.

The tell-tale Boy

Boy recently spent a few nights with his grandparents. When we got there, his grandma asked him if he'd like to stay with her.
Oh yes, he said, then I won't get yelled at.

At least he knows better than to tell her about the beatings.

Random words of wisdom

Mummy: Are your legs long?
Boy: Yes. They can reach the ground easily.

Mummy: Where is New Zealand?
Boy: Near the farm, past the tractor.

I didn't bring my rollercoaster with me. Sorry about that.

That's not meat. That's a burger.

 

 

Fageddaboudit

I mentioned previously Boy's passion for television. He has added to his repertoire with a mafia standover technique.

Mummy, can I watch TV? I promise I won’t erupt you...

Translation: Hey, that’s a nice baby you’ve got there. It would be such a shame if someone were to wake it up. You turn on the TV... I can guarantee that won’t happen.

I just called to say I need some wood

Mummy, make the numbers. I wanna call the police. My car got broken

This is what the police lady says: Please check the number before trying again.

The other day Boy called our local medical centre. He was blabbering away as usual – something about wanting some “Big, tiny, long, smooth wood. You know the one, it’s white. Do you have it? Ok. Yes, I need some of that big, tiny, long, smooth wood. Ok?” – when Granma suddenly realised there was actually someone on the line. Whoops.

But it’s ok, because a few days later he got a hold of the phone again and called The Fat Controller (aka Granma, or in this case, her assistant, Grandad) and asked for some more wood – “You know, the long, smooth, white stuff”.

A spoonful of sugar helps the vomit go down

I gonna teach Justababy how to eat. You just put it in and vomit it all out again.

When I was a baby, I vomited all over the place. It went out of my mouth and smashed through the window.

Actually, Boy wasn’t much of a chucker. Justababy, on the other hand, seems to like a good projectile vomit. (I do not.) The frequency of upchucks has decreased with time, but the introduction of solid food seemed to bring it out of her again. ;) As did a recent illness. I even tried giving her some medicine... which she promptly spewed up, along with everything else in her gut.

Boy has a medical kit and likes to use it. Around the time Justababy was sick, he gave me a checkup and some ‘special’ medicine to help me recover.

Here you go mummy, it’s vomititup medicine.

There you go.

Go on. You have to vomit it up mummy.

Vomit mummy!

[puke sound]

That’s good. Now you all better.

A few of my favourite things

But mummy, can you say yes if I say TV?

Soooo, in theory we like to restrict television time. Sadly the reality is that Boy watches rather more than I'm comfortable with. He has declared it his most favourite thing in the whole world.

But on the plus side, I'm his most favourite lady in the whole world. 

It seems, though, the more TV he watches, the more his whining for it intensifies. And if I say no, he asks his dad, his grandparents, his uncle, his sister even - "But mummy, Justababy said I could watch tv".

He used to take a fairly strategic (for a 3 year old) approach:

What can I do...?
You can go and play.
No! I can't play.... Can I watch tv?
No, not now.
So.... I can watch TV?
...No, not today I said.
Mummy... Can I watch TV on the 'puter?
No, not today. Ok?
Umm...yes.... I think I can watch TV after we go to the shops. Are we going to the shops now mummy?
 Now he's going for the sledgehammer approach:

Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV?

Excuses, excuses

Mummy! My porridge is too batty. There's a bat in my porridge

I told him to eat it quick, before it flew away.

Me: Time to use the potty.
Boy: No I can't. A shark bit my penis off.
Me: Wha...?
Boy: Yeah.... Oh, no, sorry, it was a whale.

I don't know where he gets these funny ideas from.

Sharpest tool in the box

Mummy, you can use my tools, but only when I there. You have to be careful though, because some of them are sharp.

The Boy just loves his tools. And he's dead keen on Bunnings*. Bunnings is Daddy's fallback position - any time Boy is difficult or Daddy needs a break (or rather, Mummy needs a break and Daddy's not sure what else to do) they head off to pick up some "bits and pieces". Sometimes Boy insists we need to go the Bunnings at other times - I just need to pick up a couple of things from Bunnings Mummy - but it's not really my thing.
On a recent little trip there Boy came back with his latest tool (it's funny how often Daddy comes back with nothing) - little plastic steps.
Brilliant!
Now Boy can reach up all the really high places.
Didn't think that through, sorry, says Daddy.
Look. I am standing up here and fixing the wall, says Boy. Then he drags his steps over to the sliding glass door and climbs up.
Look! Look out there! There are hyenas in the distance!
Uh huh, hmmm. [Mummy and Daddy are trying to have a conversation about appropriate toys for 3 year olds.]

Don’t just stand there looking miserable and not talking to me about the hyena!

* Daddy would prefer he didn't know the name and insists on calling it the tool shop. Boy doesn't miss much though.

Playing possum

I'm making a possum! I'm sretching it out to make its tail.

Rumaging through the kitchen cabinet Boy found one of those brillo steel-wire-thingos and decided it would, naturally, make a good pet.

It's now safely nestled in its cage. It's name is Raison (or something like that).
(Yes, I know he's wearing odd shoes. He likes it that way. Remarkably, only one of them is on the wrong foot - he must not have been paying close enough attention. I'm really happy to say his other clothes are on the right way round today.)

A dog! A dog! My baby for a dog!

Boy: Why do you have a baby?
Daddy: Well, we wanted to have more children.
Boy: Uuummmm, no, Granma said other words for this.
Daddy: What did Granma say?
Boy: Granma said you had a baby because you didn't want any dogs

This is the sort of answer you're likely to get from your grandmother if you ask far too many silly questions...
And this is the sort of 'logic' you get from a 3 year old...

'Mum, you don't want a baby anymore so you can get a dog.'

For the record: I never said that. And I still don't want a dog.

You've come a long way kid

No mummy, go away! I don't want you!

It sounds bad, yeah? But this marks real progress (not so much in his manners, but we're working on that). This is now Boy when he's ready to go to sleep. What a long way we've come from hours of feeding, rocking and singing (and a fair bit of pleading) that it used to take. Now the Boy dismisses us and 'sefl settles' - yes, that beacon of Good Parenting we all aspire to.
Now, when he needs to go to the toilet he still tells me, but then when I get up to help he says, hand out to make me 'stay': No mummy, you stay here. No mummy don't follow me! He wants to do stuff for himself. And it's lovely when he comes rushing back, his pants askew, to announce he's not only gone to the toilet by himself, he also wiped his own bottom. (Great! I say, as I prepare some wet cloths and clean underwear.)
Hell, the other day he even made a cup of tea for his grandmother.

I made a cup of tea for granma all on my own.

...........

It just had a lot of dirt and froth in it, so she just pretended to drink it.

The froth was imaginary, but the dirt was actually old coffee grounds, so he's getting close.

Facts of life

Boy: Only I and daddy work. Only I and daddy. Because we have penises. Only the ones with penises can work. Not you Mummy.
Me: [Aghast] Who told you that?
Aric: I told me.... I told you!

So there you have it!

You can face anything with a towel

'Yes, I'm pushing Nut [beloved toy] in my trolley. Awww, he likes that. He will need some milk soon.
'Cos he took a long time to be born.
Now I will give you some milk. Come on, just drink the milk. Come on baby.
There. Now he's had enough.
Oh baby, you got milk all over me. Mum I need a towel.'

Together, mummy and Justababy have prepared Boy for the hard task of parenting.
He has taken to his role as big brother quite well, finding a niche for himself in the provision of amusing distractions and background noise. Sometimes he's called upon to talk to Justababy when mummy's busy. It helps when she's upset, because she finds absolutely everything about him hilarious.

'Mummy's going to put me in the oven and cook me and eat me all up. Then there will be no Boy to play with the baby'

And he's learning to share... the toys he doesn't really want. It is a hard lesson to master and he's been working on it since before Justababy was born.

'Me want to get in there.

...........

No! There IS room for me and the baby in there.'

Breastfeeding basics

After Justababy was born, Boy really, really wanted to help feed her.
We have finally managed to convice Boy that his boobies don't make milk. So now he wants me to put milk into them.... that's what breastpumps are for, you know?

Story time: A duck amongst the carrots

Just a little mealtime ditty

Two little carrots went out a day. Over the highchair too far away. One little carrot said "Rug rug rug rug" and four little carrots came back.

One little duck went out a day, over to a field too far away. One little duck ate the carrots...

Parenting win-ish

’Good job mummy. Well done!'

It’s nice to get some validation.
We know our parenting tactics are working when things get easier, the kids start doing things the way we’d like without us asking quite so many times. Sometimes they start echoing our language. Instead of saying Boy is a good boy because he’s done something that conveniences us, or that he’s done a good job putting that block in a box, we say thank you if he does something for us, and note his helpfulness.
‘Cos that’s totally different.
He is picking this up. We can not only hear it when he screams ‘I DON’T WANT TO BE HELPFUL!!’, but also when he talks to his sister sometimes:

Boy: We home now. I will read you Thomas the Tank Engine, but you have to be helpful.
Justababy: [cries]
Boy: No. That's not helpful

It is a bit much, really, telling a kid he’s done a good job putting his shoes on, or whatever. It’s hardly rocket science. The Boy gets this, I think. He has a wicked sense of humour.

Boy: What are houses made of?
Daddy: [sigh] Jelly.
Boy: [pauses to consider] Yes, that’s right! Well done daddy.

Alan! Alan! Alan!

'I'm making a baby. Mummy, where is my screwdriver?'

Ah! The simple mechanics of conception! When I was pregnant with Justababy - 'No, she's not a girl. She's just a baby!' - the Boy gave birth to his toys many times. Then one day he presented me with his latest addition - an allen key in a little plastic baggie.
Oh, how he lovingly cared for that allen key. He fed it milk from his boobies and put it to bed.
Then one day, he whipped it out of its baggie and declared: 'Now it's a sword. I'm gonna go chop down some trees.'

Sniff.

Parenting fail-ish

'Me a 'asol.'

Oh dear.

You're a what, dear...?

He tries harder, and I hear just the faintest suggestion of an R...

'Me a [wr]asal.'

Oh, bless him, yes he is a rascal.

'Me a widdle bugga'

In my defence, he really is a bit of a bugger sometimes.

'Me say shuck shake like daddy.'

You see he clearly fingers his father. Nothing on me.

'Come on mummy, stop bucking me. You bucking me mummy.'

.... I'm not sure about this one. If it is what I think it is... he didn't get it from me.

Terms of endearment

'You're not clumsy daddy, you're just big and heavy'

That's practically a compliment.

'Move your big, heavy bottom please mummy'

At least he said please

'Let's laugh at daddy. He's being silly'

Fair cop

'Your hair looks like a lion mummy'

He may have a point

'There's a big froggie in the bed. Frog wants to sit on the log.
[ooof]
Mummy is a log. '

I wish I were a log sometimes

'No. Mummy not a man. Her haven't got a beard'

Oh. Isn't that sweet?

'I like mummy. My favourite lady in the whooooole world'

Naaawww

Harro

I'm compiling some of the wonderful thing my boy says in a blog. Because the world needs another blog. Especially this one.

As he said, when first figuring out how grownups answer the phone:

'Harro. This is Boy. Watchoo doing?'