Saturday, July 18, 2009

7 a.m. Musings

Sometimes I'm afraid I will never have another original thought...and then sometimes I'm afraid I already have too many.


Sunday, July 12, 2009


Well, my little boy is growing up. As is his vocabulary and language skills (as evidenced in an earlier post). Following are some anecdotes providing further evidence of said skills.

Here It Comes
I was changing Ari's diaper on my bed one day last week and was letting his bottom air out when he got That Look in his eye. All of you with toddlers know That Look. Uh oh.

Ari: Pee in Mommy's bed?

Wendy: Noooo, we pee in the potty or in a diaper, Ar.

Ari (grinning and nodding): No, pee in Mommy's bed...Here it comes...Look out...

He never actually meant to pee on my bed but he did mean to tease the heck out of me. Where he got this idea, I don't know.

Music Man
Whenever Ari is jamming on a guitar or rocking out to something inappropriate on the stereo, this is his favorite line to bellow:

"Yea, baby, yea. Yea, yea baby. Yea, yea baby. Yea, baby, yea!"

Babe Ruth
Over the past couple of weeks, Ari's gotten quite good at baseball. Not T-ball, mind you, baseball. He and I headed out to the street after dinner one evening last week intent on getting some ball in before bath. We set up the bases and I began to drag out the T, as usual. He vehemently stopped me. "No mom, not that. Just throw." Completely confused, I kept trying to set the T up. He finally got frustrated, threw the thing towards the garage and said, "Throw the ball! I knock it out of the park." Ok. I will. And damned if he didn't do just that. Two years old, no T...and he knocked it out of the park (or at least to the opposite end of the street).

Music Snob
As we were driving along on an errand one day, I was attempting to enjoy a little "mommy music" as opposed to the endless requests for the Wiggles or "The Batman Song" or "The Rock CD". My "mommy music" that day happened to be JoDee Messina's Greatest Hits (fantastic girl CD). About 30 seconds into the first song, Ari pipes in from the back seat, "No Mom, I don't like that moogoo (music)." "Well Ari, we're listening to my music this morning." A pause as he considers this, and then, "No, not that moogoo, good moogoo." Well excuuuuse me. Persecuted by a two-year-old for my love of girlie country.

I took a stroller fitness class last week and one of the stationary exercises we were doing gave you the option of adding a jump to make the exercise more strenuous. This being my first class, I opted out on the jumping portion. As I turned around to answer one of Ari's questions (he and Ally were in the stroller behind me), I noticed him eyeing the mom next to me who, of course, was doing the jumping part. About 5 seconds later, Ari yells out to me, "No, no Mom. You're supposed to jump." This amused my neighbor immensely. Me, not so much.

Love of My Life
While laying in bed this morning, Ari says to me, "Mom, you're my best friend."

Yeah, I melted too.

Apparently he said the same thing to his father 5 minutes earlier when I was in the next room. So he's fickle as hell. We couldn't care less.