Say what?

Like any kid who gets to watch too much TV while his baby brother naps and his mom job-searches online, Boy Wonder can quote from a variety of movies and shows. He appears to have inherited my prodigious memory, because he's very good at remembering exact quotes. This is usually sort of cute, and sometimes even quite funny.

And sometimes, it's utterly wacky. This morning, Boy Wonder was playing a game on my computer, and picked up one of his books that was sitting nearby. He assumed an air of nonchalance, leaned back, casually leafed through the book, and waited for the computer game to give one of its verbal prompts ("Remember, click on the animals that match!") before saying...

"Hel-LO. I'm picking out my prom dress."

There's just something amusing about an almost-four-year-old boy, wearing a glaring yellow T-shirt, red sweatpants, a red, gray, and white sweater, and socks printed with shamrocks, imitating a cartoon teenager who's picking out a prom dress.

O brother, WHO art thou?

Several weeks ago, during one of our Commute Conversations, Boy Wonder suddenly announced, "Mommy, I have two brothers!"

Now, I may not be certain of a great deal lately, but I am quite certain indeed that I've only given birth to two children. Thinking that he might perhaps mean his cousin, I said, "No, J3 is your cousin, not your brother."

"No, Mommy! I have two brothers. Action Hero and Other Boy Wonder. At school."

Things were getting clearer. Other Boy Wonder, another kid at daycare, has the same actual first name as Boy Wonder. My Boy Wonder is about eight months older, so they're only in the same class for a few months out of the year, and this is the time of year when their paths cross.

"Oh, I see. Well, just because he's got the same name doesn't mean that he's your brother. Action Hero is your brother, but Other Boy Wonder isn't really."

"Yes he is. He will come to our house and play with my toys and eat dinner with us."

Other Boy Wonder's mom, who happens to work at the daycare, was quite entertained when I told her Boy Wonder's thoughts on brotherhood. She also has another son, who's a couple of months older than Action Hero; we briefly wondered why Boy Wonder hadn't tossed him into the scenario as well.

Fever in the morning, fever all through the night?

So today, Action Hero was rather irritable, and did not wish to do anything except eat and sleep. Twenty minutes after he woke up from a nap, he would be yawning and rubbing his eyes (and pulling on his ears, too, which he does rather heavily when he's tired). I chalked it up to his getting over a virus (more on that whole episode later), and comforted him as best I could.

But, duh. Had I actually bothered to, I don't know, TAKE HIS TEMPERATURE, he probably would have been feeling better. I finally realized this at about 5:00 today, by which time he had a fever of 102.6. Twenty minutes later, after an appropriate dose of fever-reducing medication, he was happily pushing a toy truck around the living room, dancing around with musical toys, and rolling a ball around the living room with Dragon.

I got nothin'

I've formulated a wide variety of witty, entertaining (at least to me, and possibly to a certain select audience) posts in my head over the past couple of weeks, but due to circumstances have not been able to muster the energy to craft a single one of them. So in brief:

Action Hero is not feeling well this week.

Boy Wonder is rambunctious.

We're starting to experience real live sibling rivalry here. Oh joy.

I still don't have a job. I had a two-week temporary assignment with a great company. It's over now, but they seemed to like me. (Not enough to keep me on permanently.)

I thought I'd investigate finishing my degree online, and found a great program. However, the price tag makes further investigation impossible. If I had that much money to spend, I'd use it to pay off half the mortgage.

The weather warmed up, but it's going to start snowing again soon. Damn.

Curses! Foiled again!

Boy Wonder has been cursing a lot lately. Not, you know, actual CURSING cursing, in which he repeats things he hears me say when someone cuts me off as we're about to turn into the library parking lot. (Whew. Although, a while back, he did casually inqure, "Mommy, can I have my damn sweater please?" And then, after we talked a bit about language, he took great delight in saying, "Mommy? We shouldn't say 'damn'! 'Damn' is not a nice word! No one should say 'damn'!") Little-kid cursing, in which the kid echoes the sentiments of cartoon characters.

A recent selection:

"Aw, pickles!"

This one is from Higglytown Heroes, one of the Disney Channel's weirder offerings.

"Oh, barnacles!"

"Oh, barnacle-head!"

"Oh, tartar sauce!"

The above three, with their seafaring flavor, are from . . . well, he lives in a pineapple under the sea. Enough said.

"Oh, bodda!"

It took me a few minutes to get this one, until I remembered that several Winnie the Pooh movies have been in the rotation recently. Oh bother, indeed.

"Jinkies!" (var.: "Zoinks!")

Scooby-dooby-doo, where are you . . .

"Oh, toenails!"

Your guess is as good as mine.

A name, it is a-changin'

When I first began blogging, Baby Boone was a scant two months old, and received the moniker "Baby Boone" because he was, well, a baby, and "Boone" provides a slight clue as to what his real name might be. (Actually, when I first began blogging, I had just learned that I was pregnant with my second child. But that blog was beyond boring, and I took it down. [The Peanut Gallery will kindly refrain from saying, "Oh, just that blog was boring?" Thank you. Mgmt.]) I knew that I wouldn't be able to call him Baby Boone forever; indeed, since he's been toddling for a month and a half now, he could reasonably be considered a toddler, not an infant. I think I've got a new name for him now, though.


This evening, Boy Wonder was watching a movie upstairs. Dragon was watching that annual football game thingy in the living room, and Baby Boone was toddling about, playing with various toys, and trying to grab my shoes off the shoe rack so he could lick their soles. (Ew. Don't worry, I'm trying to figure out where to move the shoe rack so he cannot access the shoes anymore.) I was cooking dinner in the kitchen. Dragon came into the kitchen for a couple of minutes, and I poked my head around the corner to see if any interesting commercials were airing. I did not see Baby Boone on the floor anywhere, and then I said, "Whoa!" and vaulted over the baby gate. For lo, the baby was sitting by himself on the futon.

"Whoa what?" Dragon said. I turned to him, about to say something along the lines of, "Dude, don't leave the baby by himself on the futon! He could fall off!" when Dragon looked around the corner too. And said, "Oh my God. I put him down on the floor. I swear I did. How on earth did he get up there?"


So. The baby, who will be ten months old tomorrow, climbed onto the futon. Let me say that again: THE BABY. CLIMBED. ONTO THE FUTON. All by himself. How he managed, we have no bloody idea.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present: Action Hero.

Cracking the baby code

I am pretty sure that Baby Boone is trying to tell me that he's outgrown the high chair and would like to sit in a big-boy booster seat instead. One that can be hosed down with bleach or wiped clean with those nice little disinfecting wipes. Not one with a cloth cover that must be removed and laundered, thereby rendering the high chair inoperable for a while.

Or, he's just experiencing some gastric distress. Either way, it's pretty gross.