I remember doing this. I didn’t check the back of the original for the date, but according to its placement in the album I was quite likely two and a half. I thought the sand on my hands looked like sugar so I decided to taste it… I can still remember the gritty feeling of having sand in my teeth. BLECH! But what I love most about this photo is how much of myself it allows me to see in my son. I’m talking about the one who usually looks like his father… I have seen this very face many, many times on him. So maybe I did have a little to do with him, after all.

“get your sharp scissors because there is a spider up on my toy. Just get them and (demonstrates scissor motion with his fingers) SNAP it.”

They gave the kids cupcakes at school today. Because it’s someone’s birthday. After our trip home which included (I am not making this up) 30 minutes of screaming “NO!” and “I WANT TO START THIS DAY OVER AGAIN” and “THIS IS NOT FUN FOR ME” I decided Ian needed to go straight to bed when we got home. Bedtime included more tears and more screaming. Including my favorite, “NO I CAN’T CALM DOWN ENOUGH TO HEAR A STORY. NO I DO NOT WANT TO SNUGGLE. NO I CAN’T CALM DOWN. IT’S NOT EASY.”

I shared a video of 30 seconds of this awesomeness with my husband, who thinks I am cruel to subject him to such a fate. But, on the up side, he darn well made sure he was home in time to relieve me so I could attend my Tai Chi class, which I seriously needed by the time it started. The poor dude DID eventually calm down enough to hear a story, and when I got home he only made it to 54 bottles of beer before he fell asleep.

So, if you have found yourself thinking I’m a whackadoo for not wanting him to drink juice, or eat candy, or have too many cookies… I have a video for you.

Ian has reached the age where we have some really very philosophical conversations in the car.

Ian: Mommy, who’s Barbie? (I was no more prepared for this question than I was for “what’s God?”)
Me: She’s a freakish looking doll that people give to little girls.
Ian: Oh. (A moment later) Why do they do that?
Me: I don’t know, maybe they think it’s cool.
Ian: Oh. Well, does she go to the pumpkin patch?
Me: No. She wears very impractical shoes so she hardly ever gets to do really fun stuff.
Ian: Why not?
Me: Her shoes would get dirty.
Ian: (in his “that’s crazy” voice) Oh. Then where does she live?
Me: In a little plastic house.
Ian: (silence)
Me: She does have really pretty hair.
Ian: Hm.