How Do You Scold A Toddler

That tunes out whatever you just said, instead hugging your kneecaps and saying, "Oh, Mommy, come have cup of tea.  Is all right, Mommy.  You need cup of tea?"

Never mind that he's the one throwing blocks or hanging upside down off rocking chairs.  Clearly, Mommy is the one who's over reacting.

Stop Eating the Pumpkins!

Today, WeeBee and Lowly went to the pumpkin farm for the first time.  Lowly slept the entire time.  WeeBee, however, had an awesome trip.  I think the highlight was going on the hayride - he got to see a tractor up close and even did a little "IT'S A TRACTOR!  IT'S A TRACTOR!" happy dance.  He wandered around the pumpkin patch organizing the pumpkins.  (Apparently he's inherited Daddy's OCD-ness.)  We had apple cider donuts that were literally fresh out of the frier.  He had a great time running through a hay bale tunnel and climbing to the top of the hay bale pyramid with Paka.  He even got a little pumpkin painted on his hand.  (We weren't sure how he'd react to getting his face painted, so that seemed safer.)

Somewhere along the line, he got it in his head that you could eat pumpkins raw.  He was puttering around organizing them in the field, and then I noticed he was leaning over and licking them.  Naturally, we tried to stop him, but everyone had their hands full and it was difficult to tell when he was simply bending over to pick up another pumpkin, and when he was trying to eat it.  The one we ended up taking home actually has a few little teeth marks on it.  I don't know if he thought they were mutant apples or what, but he got a kick out of it.  (He calls potatoes "apples in the ground," so who knows.)

WeeBee's questionable hygiene habits aside, it was a great day.  :)

Fearless

WeeBee has not learned a thing from his E.R. trip.  Today as I was looking for my pocketbook on our way out the door, I heard the following.

"Look, Mommy!  Bump!  Bump!  Bump!  Hi, Mommy!  Bump!  Bump!"

I looked up, and there he was, sliding down our staircase, on his rear, yelling "Bump!" every time he hit the next step.  He's going to give me an ulcer.  Apparently the other day I was such a nervous wreck that he finally grabbed my hand and dragged me into the kitchen, saying, "Come, Mommy.  You make cup of tea.  Have cup of tea."

He's lucky he's such a sweetheart.  ;)

What Goes Up Must Come Down

And sometimes that involves hitting numerous pieces of furniture along the way.

Well, it finally happened - WeeBee's insistence on living life on the edge landed him in the E.R.  Considering how much of my day is spent dragging him off chairs, counters, and other not so inanimate objects that he shouldn't be surfing on, I guess it was only a matter of time before he did some actual damage.

One minute he was throwing a hissy fit because I would only let him eat four crackers right before dinner, and the next he had either lost his balance or thrown himself backwards and was on the floor.  On the way down he hit the table and the chair next to him, neither of which had particularly sharp edges.  He jumped up right away, shaking his head and screaming bloody murder.  I picked him up and was rocking him back and forth when I realized there actually was blood running down my hand...and all over the lower back of his head.

Thankfully Daddy was home.  He was able to clean WeeBee up a bit while I pinned his arms down - at least to the point where we could see where the blood was actually coming from.  There was a nice 1/2 inch gash to the back of his head.  It was still sort of difficult to see how deep it was (curly blood matted hair and thrashing toddler don't exactly lend themselves to precise measurements) so we decided not to risk it and headed over to the E.R.

We were in and out of there in 3 hours, which really wasn't bad considering how many football and soccer players were sitting around us with broken arms and legs in the waiting room.  Apparently it was a pretty bad night for sports on the Jersey Shore.  WeeBee alternated between talking to the fish in the giant fish tank, and climbing on chairs.  (Clearly he learned nothing from his adventure.)  In the end, he needed 2 staples to close the gash.  The worst part of the day was hearing him cry "I'm sorry Mommy!  I'm sorry Mommy!" while I pinned him down on the table.  I couldn't see his face, but I knew he had that, "Why are you letting them do this to me?" look.

Afterwards, covered in blood and toddler snots, we hit the McDonald's drive-thru and got ice cream, which WeeBee proceeded to get all over himself and his car seat.  By the time we got home, we looked like extras in a low budget horror movie.

His first words when we got in the house?  "Mommy, can I have a cracker?"

Ever Wonder Where Your Taxes Go?

Mine go towards paying for this genius.

Dump Truck Vs. Overpass

Apparently, my toddler has a better grasp of construction scenes than this guy does.  I great big puffy heart NJ.