My bossy girl...

Last weekend, at my parents' place Sunday morning, Clara demanded bacon for breakfast. My mom told her she didn't have any, and Clara barks out "Go buy bacon, in store."

Haha....

Later that morning, we're out for brunch for my grandma's birthday. There's bacon on Clara's plate. She shouts across the table (it was about 4 long rectangular tables put together for us, and my mom was about 2/3 of the way down) "Thanks Babcia, for buying bacon!"

Hah.

My little multitasker.

Yesterday, we were heading home from visiting friends (some of our dog-walking friends, from across the park?)
Philip was in the sled, holding Clara in his lap, while Sean pulled them. Philip was holding this new little ATV toy that our friends got him, and talking to me about something. At one point, I told him he was quite the multitasker.

He got sort of offended, and told me he's NOT a multitasker (as though it was some sort of insult).
I explained to him that multitasking is when you're doing lots of things at once. He was holding Clara, holding his toy, and talking to me, ALL while riding in the sled. That was definitely multitasking!

I'm waiting for him to use it himself one day... Hah.

March 11, 2007

(Another old one)

Philip's daycare called... and apparently he lost a boot playing in the back yard.
They searched for almost an hour, but couldn't find it.

March 12:

No boot found yet.
Sean dug around for 1/2hr last night, and only found his sock.

He offered our caregiver's kids (there's 3 of them) a $10 reward for finding the boot. We'll see if they have any luck!

In the meantime, my friend lent me a beautiful pair of her daughter's two-tone bubble-gum pink boots. I marketed them to Philip as "boot-searching boots", which will help him find his own green boot. Fortunately, he's totally oblivious to gender stereotypes, (which, I'm sure will only last until he starts school in December) so he put them on eagerly this morning, ready to hunt for his boot.

April 3, 2008


So, our caregiver found the boot yesterday. Almost a month later.
In the backyard, in a corner up against a fence. Full of snow/ice.
It sat on her furnace vent thing all night, and Sean brought it home this morning to put on our radiators, because Philip is really excited to wear his green boots again.

I like happy endings.

Actually...

Another old one:

I haven't posted about many of the ridiculous words Clara picks up, but they just sound SO funny on a not-even-two yr old, that I can't help laughing about them.

The newest one?
Actually. (Sounds like Ah-shoo-wee)

And she uses it in context.

"Actually, it's my turn."

"Actually, Philip did it."

"Actually mummy, it's yucky."

Fun.

Another old one dug up, from the summer:

Clara had her 18 month checkup today. Including vaccinations.

She's screaming her eyes out about all of it - being weighed, being measured, and of course the needles.

I find talking to her and asking her questions often helps with this kind of stuff, because she needs to stop screaming to answer me.

So I'm asking her:

Me: Clara, did you get a needle?
Clara: Uh-huuuuuuh!
Me: Did it hurt?
Clara: Yeah...
Me: Was it fun? Are needles fun?
Clara: Uh-huh.
Me: Really? It's fun?
Clara: Yeah...

I guess she doesn't know what fun means?

But, the our little chat helped her calm down, so whatever. It worked.

On our way out, we're at the desk, making her next appointment. The receptionist is asking her what happened (she sees her tear-streaked face) and Clara points to her arm (where she got a needle) and says "Fun."

I thought I misunderstood her, so I asked her what happened to her arm. She answered again "Fun."
When I dropped her off at daycare, she ran over to Philip, pointed to her arm, and told him "Fun."

Okay then.
From now on, in Clara-ish, 'fun' means vaccinations.

Life lessons - in the bathroom...

I'm trying to gather up - oh, about 20 funny stories from the last year - to make a photobook with stories for the grandparents for Christmas. Today. ;) Here's an old one I dug up:

Philip had to go pee. Clara keeps wanting to go pee too, but just sits on the toilet with no results. I was putting some laundry away, and Philip went to the toilet to pee. He heard Clara chanting "I try! I try! I pee! I pee!" so he sat on the toilet, telling Clara exactly what he's doing. "See Clara? You pull down your pants, sit on the toilet, and let the pee come out. Then stand up, and --- TADA! Pee!" Then he helped her out of her diaper, and up onto the toilet. When she didn't pee, he said "It was a good try anyway, Clara."

More penis humour (will it ever end?)

I was at the bathroom sink, brushing my teeth, when Philip came rushing in to go pee. He pulled down his pants, and said "I pee standing up, like the big guys & daddies do."

I said: "Yup, guys can do that."
He asked: "Not mummies?"
I said: "Nope, not mummies, because they don't have penises."

He looked at me, sympathetically, and said: "One day mummy, you'll have a penis too."

Heehehheee..

Dinner and Doctors...

I had Clara with me this morning while we ran some errands and then went for flu shots. Man, she's funny when I get to pay attention to her!

Funny 1:
We're at the Ministry of Health office, renewing her health card.
She's sitting all nicely and patiently in a very silent room despite it being packed with people. Suddenly she hears the 'next person' chime go off, and she jumps up all excited, and yells "Dinner ready!"


Funny 2:
I told her how we'd be picking Philip up at school, and going to the doctor for shots.
When we got to Philip's school, she ran over to him, and said "Philip! Let's go see Dr. Seuss!"

Philip, the budding artist.

Last night, Philip was drawing on the chalkboard of his art easel thingy. He tends to scribble until you give him a specific thing to draw, then he tries to draw it.

I asked him to draw me, so he did.
There was a head, with eyes, a nose, a mouth, hair (Er - really? is that how I look?), arms, legs... it was all there, and somewhat recognizable.

Then I asked him who he wanted to draw next, and he said "Clara!"

So, he drew a big circle around me.
Huh?

I said: "I thought you were going to draw Clara?"
He replied: "I did. She's giving you a hug."

I turned into a puddle of mush - seriously, is that ridiculously cute or what?

But what about the boat, mummy?

We went to vote after work/school the other day. Philip was pretty excited about it. I couldn't figure out why, but you never know what'll get a kid going, so whatever.

We get tot he polling station. Philip is asking all sorts of questions about what's happening, how it works, etc. I'm loving this oh-so-serious conversation we're having.

I even let him make my "X" on my ballot.

When HB and I finished, and we were heading back outside, Philip stopped in the hallway.

He asked, all confused: "But what about the boat, mummy?"
I looked at him, confused too: "What boat?"
Philip: "The BOAT. We didn't see the BOAT."
Me: "WHAT boat?!?"
Philip: "You told me we're going to a boat!"

??

Philip still can't pronounce his Vs. They still sound like Bs.
His vote sounds like boat.

And, to make it more believable, our polling station was a the pool where he's had swimming lessons.

Still funny, a year later...

I came down this morning, dressed for work. Philip was in the kitchen, and as I entered, he looked at me all excited.

"You're wearing your fish-catchers again!"

My fishnet socks, that is.
He's been calling them that for ages. Hah.

Farm fun

Today Philip had the day off school, so I took the day off work to hang out with him.

We went to the Experimental Farm this morning. We were walking through the cows, and one was named "Goody". (Their names are displayed above them.) Philip asked what the sign said, so I told him.

He asked: Why is this cow named Goody?
I replied: I guess because it's really good?
He paused for a second, then went to the next cow, and said: I think this one should be named "Stinky".

Heeheehee....

An oldie but a goodie...

Figures.
I finally get around to setting up a blog, and they stop being funny.

So, I thought I'd take advantages of this momentary lull in funniness to catch up on some hilariousness from the past. Here are two of my favourites from the summer:

Clara:
I guess we went through a few drive-throughs this summer - something we don't normally do very often. Towards the end of Philip's swimming lessons, we had been through the drive-through almost daily for 2 weeks, as I tried to bribe/reward Philip for his great progress.

Anyway, we were heading down to Vermont to check out the Ben & Jerry's ice cream factory with my friend and her 2 little ones. As we reached the border crossing, my friend pulled the van (with all 4 kids) up to the booth with the security guard, and she rolled down her window.

Clara yelled from the backseat: "Cookie please mummy! Cookie!"




Philip:
We're at the cottage. I was up early one morning with Clara, and we were in the kitchen making pancakes or something while the boys slept.

Eventually, Philip woke up. We took off his pull-up, he went to pee off the deck, and he came back inside without his pajama pants on. (Not an uncommon thing here...) He wanted to see what Clara and I were doing, so he pulled up a chair to the kitchen counter. As he watched us, I noticed he was playing with his little penis. Rather rhythmically.



I asked him what he was doing, and he replied: "I want my penis to be up, because I'm up."



I guess they start young, eh?

Clara's rough afternoon

My poor Clara just had the world working against her this afternoon. Poor thing just couldn't get anything right.

We had some errands to run at a mall, and since it was so sticky & hot, she and Philip talked me into ice cream. She gets her little DQ cone, and as she's sitting in a chair, oh-so-excited, she notices a woman walking by with a seeing eye dog. She starts to frantically point out the puppy, with the ice-cream-holding hand of course, and the ice cream plops right out of her cone, onto the floor. It was 5:04, the mall was closing, the DQ people had closed up entirely. Philip reluctantly offered her a few licks, but it's not the same as holding your own ice cream. Poor kid. Screamed for her "I feem tone!" all the way home.

We get home, and one of the 'errands' was to get her a toy bottle for her beloved doll (Lala). She's been obsessed with feeding her, so I got her a bottle. We open it up, and she rushes over to the couch, to get Lala all tucked in and 'cozy' in preparation for her bottle. She goes to stand the bottle on the coffee table, but it won't stand. The base isn't flat - it's curved, and the damn thing doesn't stand. Poor thing, tries to stand it up a few dozen times, gets SO frustrated, that before I know it she's banging the bottle into the table trying to force it to stand, and in the end she just threw herself on the floor in a full-on tantrum. I can't blame the kid - who designs a bottle that won't stand?



So, I distract her by suggesting we go out & walk the dog. It's just been pouring rain for a bit, so I knew there'd be great puddles. They get their rain boots on, all is good. She insists on bringing Lala. I agree (against my better judgement...) We find puddles. Life is good. Clara oh-so-carefully puts Lala down beside a puddle (to keep her clean) and then proceeds to stomp through the puddle. She picks up Lala, and is disgusted to see that she's covered in gravel from the path. (She's one of those fabric-body-plastic-limbs-and-head kinds of dolls). I assure her we can clean Lala at home, and Clara does her best to brush her off. Crisis averted. I think.

Nope.

We keep walking, and Philip's telling me something, so I half dismiss what Clara is trying to tell me. She's pointing at a puddle, and I nod & smile, because - after all - we're here to stomp in puddles. I keep talking with Philip, and out of the corner of my eye I see that I should've listened to what she was saying. She was saying "Wash Lala". Ooops. She's got Lala bathing in the puddle. The muddy puddle, with tons of fresh grass clippings floating around in it. Lala comes out FILTHY.

Clara loses it. I'm starting to find this all pretty funny.

I can't do anything to help Lala at this point, so I tell Clara that Lala can have a bath with her tonight. She can only get cleaner at this point, eh?

We get home, we get through dinner (I open a bottle of wine...) and we head up for baths.

Lala goes in with them. Clara has SO much fun washing her. She's cleaner than she's ever been!
They get out, I towel them all off. Clara carries Lala to the family room, all bundled up in a towel. She oh-so-carefully dries her off, bit by bit. After a moment, she seems to just be wiping her face. Over and over again. And getting frustrated. She picks Lala up, rocks her, shushes her, and tells me "Lala crying." She tries to comfort her, which she often likes to do. I look over, and I see that Lala really IS crying.

Oh shit.

I suddenly have a flashback of a comment I heard months ago - about washing dolls with those blinky eyes. Lala's head is full of water, and it keeps pouring out of her eyes. She just won't stop crying. And Clara is LOSING it.