Plus Two

Here’s a tip. If you’re trying to keep something under wraps, don’t tell a very excited and gleeful six-year old boy.

Exhibit A: Excerpt from email from Leo’s teacher, Mrs. L.

"Hi!
We were so happy to hear the wonderful news. Leo was so excited to tell us that you are pregnant with twins. That's all that he is talking about this morning. He came off the bus talking about two babies in your belly. When we asked him how he knew he told us "the Dr." I hope it wasn't a secret because he told half the school!"

So there you have it. As well as a built-in excuse for being a little quiet around here lately. Two babies can make you feel downright terrible.

Speaking of those babies, these are the ones scheduled to join us, June 2011.

Never a dull moment around these parts!

How Does a Personality This Big Fit In Such a Little Body?

1. My friend Amy sent me a wonderful mix which includes two Beatles songs. That, coupled with my recent download spree of a bunch of the Fab Four’s songs on iTunes has transformed Ellie into a confirmed Beatles devote. She’s announced they are her “favorite band.” One of their songs comes on rotation and she says "Guys, they're my favorite band, you know." No one is allowed to sing along to their songs but her. If there is anything cuter than a 3 ½ year old girl crooning along to “Love, Love Me Dooo” from the backseat of the car, I’m not sure what it is.

2. Ellie has become Miss Compliment. She likes your sweater. She likes your scarf. She likes your necklace. My favorite compliment was given in the bathroom at the grocery store (yes, Ellie loves to visit the bathroom at Shoprite-ugh). A few weeks ago she announced in a small but confident voice to the the Shoprite employee sporting the requisite crimson red Shoprite blazer “I like your jacket.” The woman didn’t hear her at first and Ellie just kept repeating herself (as Ellie is apt to do) until the woman finally realized what was happening. She just stared at Ellie, with an expression that seem to say You Have Got To Be Kidding Me. Believe me, I’m not complaining about this recent turn of events. I far prefer the compliments to the Corrections.

3. We had our first “solo” play date last week. Ellie’s friend R. invited her to play and since I happened to not be feeling well, R.’s mom even offered to do pick-up and drop-off (isn’t that every mom’s secret wish? A kid delivery service?) It was a roaring success. Ellie was there from 1 p.m. until dinner time. As darkness fell outside, it was strange not having Ellie home, knowing she wasn’t upstairs napping (those days are long gone). No, she was just a few miles away, having a little life of her own for a few hours. We had R. over to our place this past weekend. Hosting kids without moms (not to mention sending my kid to someone else’s house!) just seems so big kid. Sniff.

4. Speaking of big kid: The sass. The back talk. It’s BAD. I am chalking it up to three and half. That's what it is, right? RIGHT? Cause if not, I might just need to start researching kindergarten boarding schools. It’s hard to know how to handle it. And she is Queen of getting the last word in. Seriously she does not know when to stop.

5. Bed times have become maddening. Most nights she is in and out of her bed at least five times and often isn’t settled down and asleep until close to 10 p.m. This is not OK! I tell myself it’s a phase and it will pass. I start out the bedtime process patient and sweet but by the tenth “tuck-in” I find my blood pressure rising. Then I feel like a Giant Jerk when she calls for me that one last time:

Ellie: Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?

Me: YES? (snarling and exasperated)

Ellie: Um, I love you.

Then there was the time a few weeks ago that Ellie knocked on our bedroom door, long after the fourth or fifth "tuck-in" to wish us a “Happy Holidays.” Hilarious and yet … Go to bed!

Of course it’s not all hilarious and cute (believe me). Two nights in a row she’s chided me for kissing her. For kissing her. She even went so far as to request a wipe (you know, to wipe off the kisses). Meanie.

Monday Notes

That's a (kid sized) car under all that, believe it or not.

1. This morning it was three degrees outside. If I’m going to live somewhere this cold, it should at least be a cute, quaint little mountain ski village. Preferably in a town with really great brew pubs. I know, I know. Blah, blah, blah: weather. Who cares?

2. Leo’s new favorite expression is “I don’t know,” (followed by an exaggerated shrug of the shoulders) which I think dovetails quite nicely with “I’m thinking,” don’t you? He says it a lot now (even when he full well knows) possibly because he knows it cracks me up. He says it clear as a bell, which is particularly exciting to me. We are just swimming in sentences over here and it’s amazing.

3. Leo is usually an “outside guy” in that he is constantly asking to play outside. It’s been so cold and snowy lately he hasn’t asked to (which is fine by me). Yesterday afternoon there was a request to make snow a man. I was feeling uncharacteristically peppy after a 4 p.m. cup of coffee (much needed), so I said, Sure! Out we went and first of all, there is a good two feet of snow in our back yard. And the snow? It’s like confectioner’s sugar. Powdery and wispy and pointless. So instead of making a snowman, Leo just threw snow at the dog and Ellie laughed uproariously. A great time was had by all (except for maybe the dog). And best of all, it was so cold, Leo only last thirty minutes outside.

4. Speaking of snow, here's a video I made a few days after the first Big Storm. Leo was furious because our dog kept taking the snow man's arm (imagine, a dog wanting a stick! Have you ever heard of such a thing?).


5. Leo lost another tooth. Top right. And by lost I mean, once again, lost. As in, never got to give the actual tooth to the tooth fairy. Poor guy. How does this happen? I guess he swallows them? He definitely notices when they are loose. He points to the tooth and says "my tooth!" We wiggle it and sure enough, loose. I think we are one for four: four lost teeth and one actual tooth in our possession to give to the Ms. Fairy.

Sometimes

Sometimes, the best place to be, is next to the fire, with a good book.
This particular book, In a People House, was apparently sooo good, Leo had to read it twice.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love this boy?

Of Course He Was

Don’t ask me what possessed me to take the kids to the grocery store the afternoon of New Year’s Eve after a fun but exhausting play date. Oh, right. We (OK, I) needed ingredients for Thai salad rolls, our annual New Year’s Eve dinner (after the kids go to bed).

We stopped in the toothbrush aisle, because I promised Leo a new one after I made the disastrous mistake of putting a non-electric Spiderman one in his stocking at Christmas (Ellie got an electric Arial toothbrush and to say Leo was envious would be an understatement).

“You can have SpongeBob (yuck, please don’t get SpongeBob I willed Leo, subliminally), Dora and Diego, Transformers or Pokemon,” I rattled off the bevy of choices and presented all four to Leo, who was sitting patiently in the front seat of the grocery cart.

“Princess!” Leo announced.

“They don’t have Princess, Bub,” I said. I again reiterated the choices. He may have been a bit overwhelmed. I find having two options is ideal but he could see there were more than two options.

“Leo, which one do you want? Do you want this one or this one or…” Ellie was chattering away as she is apt to do, crouched down at the bottom rung of the kiddie toothbrush display. “Oh Mommy can I get the Barbie one?”

“No you can’t get the Barbie one,” I answered, probably a little more impatiently than I needed to. Ellie just got a new toothbrush exactly a week ago. This was Leo’s moment. Also, did I mention it was New Year’s Eve at the grocery store? And that people are cranky on New Year’s Eve at the grocery store?

“Come on Leo, you need to make a decision,” I said. I’m usually pretty patient with him. I find that the more pressure he gets to “go faster,” the more he freezes up. He will do most anything I ask of him, in his own time. Which is fine, except we don’t always have our own time. And that particular afternoon, I was tired and losing it and it was the end of the shopping trip and I’d already had to ploy Ellie to even cooperate with a trip to the store with the dreaded Scooby-Doo Fruit Snacks (don’t ask).

“Leo?”

He was studying the brushes, still. And then he pointed to his head and said something I couldn’t quite make out.

“What did you say Leo?”

He said it again. I still couldn’t figure it out. And then, it was like the proverbial light bulb appeared over my head: Leo said, “I’m thinking.”

And with that, he very decisively reached out and selected the purple and green Dora and Diego toothbrush, a huge, satisfied grin on his face.

He was thinking. Of course he was. Leo was thinking.

First Play and Much More

I think the picture pretty much says it all.

But because I am who I am, I have to say just a little bit more about taking Leo to see his first play this past weekend, “Charlotte’s Web." Of course, it didn’t hurt that Charlotte’s Web just happens to be one of my absolute favorite books of all time (I actually consider it to be one of the few perfect books). How can you argue with a line like this one:

"You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that."

When the house lights went down, Leo took my arm for a minute, not sure what to expect, I suppose. When the show started, and the actors began speaking (and there were puppets!), Leo crossed his legs, leaned forward, and was instantly hooked.

Aside from laughing and clapping at all the right places, the only sound Leo made was when the first web with the words “Some Pig” appeared. “Some pig!” he announced, decidedly not whispering. He leaned over to the unsuspecting man next to him, pointed at the web and said “Some pig!” The patient man (a dad) caught my eye and smiled at me, and then Leo. I drew the line when Leo crouched down and attempted to tap on the shoulder of the woman in front of us (he apparently wanted to tell her about “Some Pig!” too.

Unlike “Some Pig,” Leo couldn’t read “Radiant” or “Humble,” the next words to appear on Charlotte’s Web. I assure you that when he leaned over to ask me “What’s that say?” he immediately attempted to tell Dad Next To Us about Radiant and Humble. Luckily, patience mostly abounded that day and Leo’s neighbor indulged him with a sweet nod.

I grew up going to the theater. Nothing fancy, just community theater, shows like “Peter Pan,” “The Fantasticks,” and “West Side Story.” And who could forget the traveling version of “Les Miserables” that captivated me my entire senior year of high school (nerd alert). I think I wore the tape on that cassette soundtrack thin.

And because I am who I am, of course there were [happy] tears rolling down my cheeks at the end of Sunday's matinee of "Charlotte's Web," when the final, utterly simple yet heartbreaking line was spoken:

"It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both."

It's OK, you can call me a sap, but it was almost TOO much. My favorite book. Live theater. And my beautiful, sweet boy next to me, loving the whole thing.