The strange location of the turkey baster

Lately, Benjamin has been inventing things.  The things he creates usually are compromised of my kitchen equipment, and the purpose behind the invention is usually mysterious.  I have to watch what he does with it for awhile until I can figure it out.

This is his fishing pole.  Notice the slap
bracelet he's using as bait, and the constant
lack of pants.  

This is Benny's 'musical instrument.'  It makes sounds just like
a loud four-year-old boy.
I couldn't find my turkey baster for days.
Finally, I uncovered a piece of it in the sandbox
this morning.  Sigh.

Yesterday was the best invention of all.  He pulled my plastic margarita glasses down, filled them with water and started shooting ping pong balls into them.  Olivia helped.  If I didn't know any better, he had now invented a drinking game.

The man of steel: he glows

Today was Joe's first day back at school.  It was nice being down one child and getting back into our normal routine, but it was kind of empty too.  He didn't really need any new clothes for school, but Ryan found him a few superhero shirts that he loved.  He was so exited to wear the glow-in-the-dark Superman one, he asked it he could wear it to bed.

The man of steel.

"No, buddy.  You can put it on first thing in the morning."
"But I want to wear it when it's pinch dark, so I can see it glow."
You can't argue with that logic, just his word choice.
"The phrase is 'pitch dark.'"
"That's what I said."

Benny celebrated back-to-school eve by jumping out of a grocery cart and smashing his head so thoroughly, that his ear was a mass of dried blood by the time I got home from work.  Ryan is a wonderful husband, and does more than his share around the house. But there are a few things that are not his strong suit.  Putting away clean dishes, transferring wet laundry into the dryer, and wound cleansing (just to be fair, I'm terrible at making sure the dirty diapers get in the outside garbage can, and leaving him messes in the kitchen as I dash off to work).

So I got to spend my back-to-school eve, clamping a screaming four-year-old between my knees and cotton swabbing his ear until I could see what I was working with.  It was pretty gruesome.  There are reasons I'm not a nurse.  All mothers should magically manifest iron stomachs with the birth of their first child, because things inevitably get messy.  He had a lovely puncture wound just inside the curve of his ear.  It was so bad, I flipped it over, checking to make sure it didn't tear all the way to the other side.  It probably could have used a few stitches, but can you stitch the inside of an ear?  Plus, our window of time had passed.  So, I swabbed some anti-biotic on it, said a prayer it wouldn't scar too badly, and sent him on his way.  These incidents or going to have to get smaller and further apart as he grows up, or he'll be missing limbs by the time he's an adult.

Can you imagine God assigning guardian angels to him when he was born?  Being all knowing, he probably took one look at baby Benny, and knew what was in store for him.  I can see him hand picking a pair of angels instead of one.  The most dexterous and most burly guardian angels he had.  If it weren't for them, he'd probably be dead by now.

Socks in the Shower

Yesterday, on a short shopping trip that included all three kids; I lost my keys, my wallet and my mind. My keys were sitting in my pocket the entire time.  My wallet was discovered in the front seat of the car.  Once that was retrieved, I couldn't remember my pin for my debit card and forgot to pick up my prints from the photo lab.  Then last night, I tried to get into the shower with my socks on.  I'm still looking for my mind.

It might be time for everyone to go back to school.

Hello, Kitty

Joseph said the most hilarious thing this morning.  But to understand, you need to know an older story. One that is slightly embarrassing for me, but I suppose it's a sacrifice I'll have to make.

When I was about 18 months old, my uncle sent me a stuffed cat with a music box in it for my birthday.  Mom said that I pulled it out of the box, promptly sat on it, and peed.  The cat was from then on known as 'pee-pee kitty.'  Fast forward thirty years.  I was at home and found a few old things in my room that Olivia might want, including the kitty.  I had no intentions of telling any of the kids its original name.  After thirty years, we could pick a completely new name, right?  But as soon as I pulled it out my mom said, "Oh, pee-pee kitty!"  That was the end of that.

So this morning, Joe, once again referred to it by the dreaded name.  "Can't we just call it Kitty?"  I pleaded with him.

"But Mom, everyone calls it that."
"Who?"
"Everyone.  They have hats and jackets and backpacks that all have Pee-Pee Kitty on it."
"Are you talking about Hello Kitty?"
"Yeah."

Really, I'm glad we straightened that out.  How would it look if Joe walked up to some girl in his class next year and told her he liked her Pee-Pee Kitty backpack?

Knife Lessons

Believe it or not, they have cooking classes for four-year-olds.  This is, of course, right up Benny's alley.  We had class Saturday morning, and a very excited Benny and I donned our aprons, and got to work.  Our teacher is not only used to small children in the kitchen, she has several of her own.  She stressed letting the kids to the actually scooping, stirring and cracking of the eggs.  This was a little difficult for me.  I had to sit on my hands to keep from interfering when Benny squished a raw egg through all ten of his little fingers, shell and all.  He dumped cheddar cheese all over the counter and smeared chocolate on every conceivable surface.  I would catch myself trying to fix things for him and have to sit on my hands again.

Benny drew us cooking.  I'm the one with curly hair.  I'm
a bowl, Benny has garlic.

As messy as that child is, he couldn't stand having anything on his hands.  He must have washed his hands 10 times in an hour and a half.  He'd run from his table at full tilt toward the sink, dodging through legs.  Every time I'd admonish, "walk!" Every time he'd forget.  Benny is like a windup toy.  He's only got two speeds, full tilt, and dead stop.

I am always amazed at how my kids listen to others so much better than they listen to me.  Ryan says it's because I make them nervous.  We had knife safety lessons with our instructor.  Benny was repeating the information to me this morning.  "You have to put you hand on the handle, or on the back, not here."  Benny was demonstrating with a butter knife.  "And you never stab someone with it."  Glad we got that down.

Benny's knife skills.

The Truffle Trail

 Today Ryan and I celebrated our 10 year anniversary of the day he proposed to me.  We had our entourage with us to help commemorate the day.  This is the visual story of our adventures.

We started the day at Cafe Pierre Michel,

and made our way to Tiny Town.

Benny waited patiently for the train.

The caboose was the favorite car for the ride.

There were lots of houses to peer in,

pose in front of,

lean against,

or take a rest on the porch.

We had lunch at the Coney Island hotdog stand.  Where we waited,

and waited,

and waited,

and played in the water,

and waited,

and finally placed our order.

We found new friends,

and danced in 

BUBBLES!

After a quick nap in the car, we went hiking.

I nicknamed the hike, "Truffle Trail," for obvious reasons.

We found raspberries,

more mushrooms,

and more mushrooms.

We hiked and found, 

more mushrooms,

and bridges to cross.

But nothing can compare to the excitement of

mushrooms,

upon mushrooms.

We started a contest to see who could spot,

the most mushrooms.

There was no shortage of 

objects for the game.

Joe even found a snake!

Which certainly produced more screams

than the finding of...

the mushrooms!

It was pretty much, the perfect day.

Lemons to Lemonade

On more than one occasion, the boys have been put into time out.  On a bad day, they go to their room upwards of five or six times.  When Joseph is sent, he whines, he flops on the floor like a noodle, he cries.  He tries to stall me with, "Wait, Mom, let me talk to you."  He informs the world that regardless of what he's done, me sending him to his room is so much worse.  Finally, after much avoidance and threats on my part, he goes.  This leads to him poking his head out at the top of the stairs every 30 seconds and asking if he can come down yet.

When Benjamin gets sent to his room for time out, he goes up immediately, finds an old duck washcloth in his bathroom, and treats us all to a puppet show from the top of the stairs.

Make lemons into lemonade Benny.  Lemons to lemonade.