That's Impossible!

I like keeping the kids' smaller toys in baskets on their bookshelves.  I think it looks cute, and it's easier for WeeBee to put his toys away when he knows all dinosaurs go in one basket, and all cars in another.

Unfortunately, it's also easier for them to dump everything out.

Like the contents of 5+ baskets down the stairs.

And while Mommy chases one little hoodlum, the other can dump another basket down the stairs, and run off giggling.  Then when Mommy chases hoodlum #2, the first one can go right back to causing mayhem.

Somewhere between threatening to throw all the toys in a garbage bag and never letting them see the light of day again, and having hysterics over the mess, I told WeeBee he was being naughty.

WeeBee:  (truly, deeply shocked)  I not naughty, Mommy!  That's impossible!

I see.  Clearly, I should not have read "Click, Clack, Moo - Cow's That Type" to this child, because now everything is "impossible."

It's not that they have an obscene amount of toys.  But when you're standing at the top of the stairs looking down at 50 alphabet blocks, half a dozen toy cars, 6 duplo blocks, and 2 dozen crayons that you swear are multiplying underneath the front doormat, what will take 15 minutes to clean up looks like it will take 2 hours.

And sometimes you just have to go have a cup of tea, write the day off as a disaster, and try to face the world again tomorrow.

That Is the Answer

Around 6:30 Sunday morning, WeeBee weaseled his way into my bed.  Well, a more accurate description would be that he scrambled up, climbed on my back, and then hung his head upside-down over my shoulder, so that when I opened my eyes, he was three inches away, grinning maniacally, upside-down.

WeeBee:  Look, Mommy!  It's a beautiful day!
Mommy:  Uh huh.
WeeBee:  Mommy, 1 + 1 is 2.
Mommy:  Uh huh.  Wait, what?

Every once in awhile, WeeBee comes out with something and I have absolutely no idea where it came from.  Besides questioning what sort of child does math problems at 6:30 on a Sunday morning, he didn't learn this from me.  I thought maybe he saw a math show on Nick Jr. at Paka's house, but my husband is convinced the only thing he watched was Blue's Clues and Pound Puppies (whatever that is.)  I questioned WeeBee on it again later, and he was even more insistent.

Mommy:  So, this morning, you told me 1 + 1 is 2.
WeeBee:  Yes!  1 + 1 is 2.  That is the answer.

Right.

Sadly, I must go, because my little tyrant has just questioned why the laundry hasn't been put away.  I believe his exact words were, "Mommy, why is the basket on Daddy's chair?  It's impossible!"  (With the implication clearly being that I'm the impossible one, because the laundry basket is preventing him from bouncing on the chair and throwing mini beach balls behind it.)

Puppies, Kittens, and Vladimir the Hedgehog

Or how to keep Lowly entertained when you are too tired to think...

Lowly has an ambivalent relationship with TV, with the exception of watching Gumby.  (She can hear that theme song from across the house, will drop everything, and run into the living room to dance.  It's awesome.)  The rest of the time, she doesn't really acknowledge its existence.

Apparently, videos of baby animals on Youtube are more her speed.

Yesterday afternoon I took a nap to escape from the teething baby of doom who is getting 4 vampire teeth at once.  (Incisors?  The pointy ones in the front?  I should just google this, right?)  Anyway, my husband had the brilliant idea that Lowly might like to watch a video of baby puppies on Youtube.  She went nuts.  She would have spent the entire afternoon squealing at the computer screen if we had let her.  Sadly, Daddy had to run errands eventually, so I found my delirious self camped out on the bed watching videos on my phone, and getting attacked by a drooling toddler who was hell-bent on kissing every adorable furry kitten that couldn't figure out how to climb out of a basket.

I think my husband might have regretted the whole thing when he heard me announce that I wanted a baby hedgehog, though.

Stinky, Smelly, Mushy Bananas

WeeBee takes a long time to unwind at the end of the day.  There are days I wish I could put a trampoline in his bedroom and just let him go at it until he fell asleep.  One of his favorite routines, aside from using his bed as a diving board, is telling me about his day.  Then I have to tell him about his day.  Then he tells me about his day, again.

Last night he started in on this while I was downstairs loading up the dishwasher.  I admit I wasn't quite giving him my full attention until I heard this...

WeeBee:  And I took the stinky, smelly...
Mommy:  (thinking he's referring to the lentil soup I made for dinner that he refused to touch, that I'm still rather ticked off about) WeeBee, we don't speak about our food that way!
WeeBee:  And I took the stinky, smelly banana, and I gave it to Lowly.
Mommy:  What?
WeeBee:  (pleased with self) I took the stinky, smelly, mushy banana, and I gave it to Lowly.  Then I only had two slices of banana.
Mommy:  (trying to figure out how grounded in reality this conversation is)  You gave mushy bananas to Lowly?
WeeBee:  Yes!  And then I had two!
Mommy:  You mean you took apart your sandwich?
WeeBee:  Yes!  And gave the stinky, smelly, mushy banana to Lowly!  And she ate it!

So, as far as I can uncover, WeeBee did not approve of the quality of all of the banana slices on his peanut butter and jelly and banana sandwich at lunchtime.  He then took the offending pieces of banana, and gave them to his sister, who has less discriminating tastes, leaving him with two slices of banana on his sandwich.  All of which took place silently, within twenty feet of me, while I was unloading the dishwasher in the morning.  He was quite gleeful, although whether it was because he tricked his silly little sister into eating subpar bananas or his problem solving skills, I couldn't actually tell.

I don't even know where to begin.