- What is your favorite color? Bown (Brown)
- What is your favorite toy? NANNIE! [Natalie]
- What is your favorite food? Pee. Pee? You mean, pizza? Uh huh!!
- What is your favorite TV show? Mit-mow (Mickey Mouse). No, Bubble! (Bubble Guppies). No, Peh! (Peg + Cat)
- What is your favorite animal? Cow ... MOO.
- What is your favorite book? Bo-gug [Goldbug]
- What is your favorite drink? Pee. Um, come again? Pee! 'Pee' like 'pink'? Uh huh!! No, not your favorite color [which you said was brown not two seconds ago]. What's your favorite thing to DRINK? Ohhhh. ICE (ice water)
- What do you want to be when you grow up? Vroom, vroom! You want to be a car? Um, no. Choo choo! Oh, a train? Um, no. Tow-tow! A tow truck? Um, no. So what, then? Ummmm ... pee! You want to be pizza? YESH.
Saturday, November 09, 2013
8 Questions from a Two-Year-Old
These answers are ridiculous. And they totally crack me up. Asking serious questions of a two-year-old should be an Olympic event.
Year Two - Year End Review
Oh my sweet, little pumpkin-headed Bear,
My goodness, you delight me. I can't believe you've dimpled up Team Smith for two whole years; it seems like it was only yesterday I was worried that you were going to be born in my van.
10 Things You're Good At:
10 Things You're NOT Good At:
10 Things You Love:
5 Things You Don't Love (you're good-natured; I could only think of 5 things):
Oh my. The difference between 12 months and 24 months is staggering. You went from a crawling and cruising little dude to a walking and running little Energizer Bunny. You went from someone who just said 'Dadda' to someone who says mouthfuls of words. You went from someone who charmed people with his two-toothed smile to someone who charms people with his ten-toothed smile (your award for Slowest Tooth Grower in the History of Earth is in the mail). You went from someone who ate anything and everything to someone who prefers to only eat food that resembles the color of a manila envelope (not cool; let's work on that in Year Three, shall we?). You went from someone who was only just discovering how to have a relationship with Natalie to someone who has definitely found his niche with his sister. And it's glorious (for the most part).
You're funny. You're observant. You're charming. You're silly. You're excitable. You're affectionate. You're cautious. You're content. (Unless you're teething ... in which case, all the aforementioned characteristics get thrown into a proverbial chipper-shredder). You remind me so much of Daddy. Perhaps that why I cherish the mornings that you and I have to ourselves; it's like I have a miniature version of Daddy to hang out with while he's at work. You say hi to everyone at Winn Dixie, just like Daddy does. You smile extra big at the ladies, just like Daddy does. Your marvelously silly personality leaves me in stitches, just like Daddy does. Just like I said in your Year One recap, this world needs a boy raised by your Daddy. I wasn't wrong. It does. And he's doing such a great job.
You are dimpled goodness, my boy. I pray for you often. One of the (many) devotional books I read talks often of being a thermostat instead of being a thermometer. A thermostat changes the temperature of a room; a thermometer rises and falls with the temperature of a room. I pray you'll be a thermostat. That your warmth and charm will draw people in and draw people to Jesus. That your cheerful light would burn bright in a world full of Gloomy Gusses. Because just like the song says "... hide it under a bushel? No! I'm gonna let it shine!", I pray you shine. Because let's keep it real, my sweet Bear, your head wouldn't fit in a bushel.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
My goodness, you delight me. I can't believe you've dimpled up Team Smith for two whole years; it seems like it was only yesterday I was worried that you were going to be born in my van.
10 Things You're Good At:
- Sleeping. Thankfully, you rarely put up much of a fuss. When I tell you it's naptime, most of the time you yell 'BYE!' to Nat, grab a random toy (to add to the 833 already in your crib) and run down the hall to your room.
- Making other people around smile (this is a trait you inherited from Daddy. It's like you two just bring sunshine wherever you go.)
- Driving your sister bananas.
- Speaking of bananas, eating bananas. You eat a banana so quickly, you should be a sideshow act.
- Making an entrance into a room. When we drop Natalie off at school, you walk in and cheerfully holler "Hi!" to all the kids in her class and wave to everyone, too. When we leave, you holler "Bye!", wave, and blow kisses to everyone. The little girls in Natalie's class think you're adorable.
- Climbing. You can climb stairs and into the van and up into your carseat like a champ.
- Being funny. You caught on quickly that we here at Team Smith run on silliness. Being all stoic and dull just won't cut it around here.
- Building towers out of blocks.
- Dancing. Clearly you and your sister inheirited your Daddy's wicked dance skillz.
- Being a mimic. You repeat sounds and words (and whines ...) like a champ.
10 Things You're NOT Good At:
- Eating non-beige foods. Could you just for once, just for kicks, just on a goof, eat something orange or something green? I promise you won't die.
- Helping me fold clothes. Your version of helping involves running around the living room with undies and towels on your head.
- Being still and/or quiet during diaper changes. I submit giving an enema to a lion is on par with changing your diapers. As is giving you a bath.
- Behaving in a restaurant. I distinctly remember this phase with Natalie. You don't want to sit in your chair, you get mad when we won't let you wander around the restaurant - and couple this with you being a picky eater and we have ourselves an unpleasant evening. It helps that Marianna isn't the mecca for fine-dining establishments, so it's not like we have the opportunity to GO to nice restaurants anyway.
- Sharing. Whoever said that "second children are just born having to share; they don't know any different!" is a certifiable crackhead. You haaaate sharing. You haaaate taking turns.
- Letting me pick out your clothes. Dude, you're two. And dude, you're a dude. Why must you have such strong opinions on what clothes you wear?
- Sitting in your carseat for a long car ride. You get antsy and crabby after about 20 minutes.
- Sleeping in. You're a good sleeper, but you're allergic to sleeping past 6. (ps: I hate you, Fall Back. That extra hour of sleep [that I didn't get anyway] was so not worth messing up both Smithkids' sleep schedules.)
- Spelling. Natalie is a great speller but still needs help on some big words. It'd be awfully nice of you if you'd learn how to spell big words and help her out.
10 Things You Love:
- Animals in theory
- Playing on the bed with Natalie and Daddy after Daddy gets home from work
- Trucks and trains and cars and planes (hey look, that rhymes!)
- Books
- Dairy products (yogurt, cheese, milk, and ice cream)
- Sports. You lose your mind when you see a basketball, football, baseball, or soccer ball. You could sit on Daddy's lap and watch football for hours.
- Mickey Mouse
- Riding your bike (and by 'Riding your bike', I mean 'Being pushed around in your bike by Mommy or Daddy')
- Ice water (ice-less water is always met with a loud and insistent "EYE-SH!!" [ICE]
- Bubble Guppies
5 Things You Don't Love (you're good-natured; I could only think of 5 things):
- Animals in real life (I get it; we don't have pets, so when you see a real-life dog up close, it understandably freaks you out)
- Baths. Two years going strong. You're certainly a stubborn (and loud) thing.
- Healthy food (except for the aforementioned dairy products)
- Being bossed around by Natalie. Which is unfortunate because it's on Natalie's 10 Things She Loves list.
- Loud noises. It's a Smithkid tradition.
Oh my. The difference between 12 months and 24 months is staggering. You went from a crawling and cruising little dude to a walking and running little Energizer Bunny. You went from someone who just said 'Dadda' to someone who says mouthfuls of words. You went from someone who charmed people with his two-toothed smile to someone who charms people with his ten-toothed smile (your award for Slowest Tooth Grower in the History of Earth is in the mail). You went from someone who ate anything and everything to someone who prefers to only eat food that resembles the color of a manila envelope (not cool; let's work on that in Year Three, shall we?). You went from someone who was only just discovering how to have a relationship with Natalie to someone who has definitely found his niche with his sister. And it's glorious (for the most part).
You're funny. You're observant. You're charming. You're silly. You're excitable. You're affectionate. You're cautious. You're content. (Unless you're teething ... in which case, all the aforementioned characteristics get thrown into a proverbial chipper-shredder). You remind me so much of Daddy. Perhaps that why I cherish the mornings that you and I have to ourselves; it's like I have a miniature version of Daddy to hang out with while he's at work. You say hi to everyone at Winn Dixie, just like Daddy does. You smile extra big at the ladies, just like Daddy does. Your marvelously silly personality leaves me in stitches, just like Daddy does. Just like I said in your Year One recap, this world needs a boy raised by your Daddy. I wasn't wrong. It does. And he's doing such a great job.
You are dimpled goodness, my boy. I pray for you often. One of the (many) devotional books I read talks often of being a thermostat instead of being a thermometer. A thermostat changes the temperature of a room; a thermometer rises and falls with the temperature of a room. I pray you'll be a thermostat. That your warmth and charm will draw people in and draw people to Jesus. That your cheerful light would burn bright in a world full of Gloomy Gusses. Because just like the song says "... hide it under a bushel? No! I'm gonna let it shine!", I pray you shine. Because let's keep it real, my sweet Bear, your head wouldn't fit in a bushel.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
Month 24 - Recap
Hello, my darling TWO year old little fella,
You're such a boy. Every time you emit a gas from the, um, lower half of your person, you giggle and say 'toot'. Actually you say 'too' because you still insist on ignoring the last letters on 99% of all words. And every time you cough, you say 'bo' [bone] because I've always asked you if you're choking on a bone. And now you just go ahead and tell me that yes, in fact, you ARE choking on a 'bo'. And finally, every time you pitch a fit, you roll your shoulders roll forward, get a grouchy look on your face and say 'pow' [pout]. It's so nice of you to let us know what you're doing. And when I ask you if you are, indeed, pouting (because pouting is a big ol' no-no in our house), you un-roll your shoulders and say "No, nuh uh!"
I've stopped putting you in the shopping cart when we go grocery shopping. You insist that you want to 'wah' [walk], so I oblige. And since we live in a city that has a really small population and since we usually go grocery shopping at 8am during the week when there are only a handful of (usually elderly) people in the store, it's not a big deal. It's a good learning experience for you. You're learning to stay by me and you're learning the consequence of not staying by me (going back into the shopping cart - and it's only taken one time of going back into the cart for you to learn to stay by me). We usually start by looking at the toys for a while. You're now to the point that you don't (usually) pitch a fit when we leave the toy section; you even holler "Goodbye" to the toys as we leave. Side note: It seems that toys are getting creepier and creepier as time goes on, so I fully expect that in a few years, they'll say "Bye" right back to you.
You're highly annoyed that Daddy and me switch off reading you bedtime stories. If it were up to you, Daddy would do it 100% of the time. Alas, you get stuck with me 50% of the time. I can usually distract you with a Richard Scarry book (because looking for Goldbug is *almost* as fun as Daddy is), but when it comes time to put you in your crib, you poke out your bottom lip all pitiful-like and wail for Daddy. It doesn't hurt my feelings one bit. Excuse me while I go sob in the corner.
Daddy and I are debating on when to move you to a toddler bed. That we have hardwood floors in our rental house makes me worried that you're going to break your neck if you try to climb out of your crib. It took (what felt like) forEVER to get your sister to stop getting out of her bed once we switched her to a toddler bed. Many nights, I stopped counting at 50 for the number of times I put her back in her bed. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. It was rough, but there wasn't another Smithkid to worry about. With you, if you decide to pull the same antics, you could easily wake up your sister (or just generally freak her out with your noise). And if that happens? Two unhappy Smithkids makes this momma cuh-RAZY. You just may be the weirdo who goes to college in a crib.
I'm flabbergasted that you're two today. You've been excited for weeks about having cake. And pizza. If you'll be 1/10 as excited for your train table as you are for your Carb-a-Palooza lunch, I'll feel like a million bucks. Or just surprise me with one of your awesome spontaneous leg hugs and cheek kisses and I'll feel like a million bucks. You are scrumptious, my sweet Bear. Let's rock this thing, Year Three.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for November 9, 2013:
You're such a boy. Every time you emit a gas from the, um, lower half of your person, you giggle and say 'toot'. Actually you say 'too' because you still insist on ignoring the last letters on 99% of all words. And every time you cough, you say 'bo' [bone] because I've always asked you if you're choking on a bone. And now you just go ahead and tell me that yes, in fact, you ARE choking on a 'bo'. And finally, every time you pitch a fit, you roll your shoulders roll forward, get a grouchy look on your face and say 'pow' [pout]. It's so nice of you to let us know what you're doing. And when I ask you if you are, indeed, pouting (because pouting is a big ol' no-no in our house), you un-roll your shoulders and say "No, nuh uh!"
I've stopped putting you in the shopping cart when we go grocery shopping. You insist that you want to 'wah' [walk], so I oblige. And since we live in a city that has a really small population and since we usually go grocery shopping at 8am during the week when there are only a handful of (usually elderly) people in the store, it's not a big deal. It's a good learning experience for you. You're learning to stay by me and you're learning the consequence of not staying by me (going back into the shopping cart - and it's only taken one time of going back into the cart for you to learn to stay by me). We usually start by looking at the toys for a while. You're now to the point that you don't (usually) pitch a fit when we leave the toy section; you even holler "Goodbye" to the toys as we leave. Side note: It seems that toys are getting creepier and creepier as time goes on, so I fully expect that in a few years, they'll say "Bye" right back to you.
You're highly annoyed that Daddy and me switch off reading you bedtime stories. If it were up to you, Daddy would do it 100% of the time. Alas, you get stuck with me 50% of the time. I can usually distract you with a Richard Scarry book (because looking for Goldbug is *almost* as fun as Daddy is), but when it comes time to put you in your crib, you poke out your bottom lip all pitiful-like and wail for Daddy. It doesn't hurt my feelings one bit. Excuse me while I go sob in the corner.
Daddy and I are debating on when to move you to a toddler bed. That we have hardwood floors in our rental house makes me worried that you're going to break your neck if you try to climb out of your crib. It took (what felt like) forEVER to get your sister to stop getting out of her bed once we switched her to a toddler bed. Many nights, I stopped counting at 50 for the number of times I put her back in her bed. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. It was rough, but there wasn't another Smithkid to worry about. With you, if you decide to pull the same antics, you could easily wake up your sister (or just generally freak her out with your noise). And if that happens? Two unhappy Smithkids makes this momma cuh-RAZY. You just may be the weirdo who goes to college in a crib.
I'm flabbergasted that you're two today. You've been excited for weeks about having cake. And pizza. If you'll be 1/10 as excited for your train table as you are for your Carb-a-Palooza lunch, I'll feel like a million bucks. Or just surprise me with one of your awesome spontaneous leg hugs and cheek kisses and I'll feel like a million bucks. You are scrumptious, my sweet Bear. Let's rock this thing, Year Three.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for November 9, 2013:
- Philippines tallies the damage after 'most powerful storm ever' kills at least seven
- Why do JFK conspiracy theories endure?
- Obama administration report details cost of last month's shutdown
- 'It gives me strength': Dancing double mastectomy patient inspires others
- Boy's bone marrow transplant wiped out cancer -- and his peanut allergy
Friday, November 01, 2013
October 2013 - Recap
Well hey there, honey bunches, how y'all doin'?
You have developed quite the Southern accent over the past few months. It's not Marianna. It's the uber cute little blonde friend in your preschool class who sounds like the classic Southern Belle. You've changed your speech pattern to match hers. And it's HYSTERICAL. Aaaaaand kind of annoying. Because I have to muster extra brain cells to translate from Southern Belle to Normal Folk talk. Case in point:
Me: What would like to drink, peach?
You: Hmmm ... I think I mat like some aaaassss water.
Me: EXCUSE ME? What did you say?
You: [have zero clue why I just started yelling] Uh, I just said I mat like some aaaaassss water.
Me: [thinking in my head] Okay, let's translate to Normal Folk talk. 'Mat' means 'might'. And let's hope for her sake that she did NOT just ask for THAT kind of water. She must mean ice water. And just happens to sound like a debutante.
Me: [out loud] You'd like some ice water?
You: Yes! That's what I said!
Me: Nooooo, you said aaaaassss water. Let's say aye-ssss water.
You: Well, I like saying like aaaaassss water.
Me: I see. And that's a problem.
Here's a simpler version:
You: Good nat, Momma!
Me: Huh?
You: Good nat!
Me: You mean, good niiiiiight?
You: I like saying like this: 'nat'
Your current favorite show is Peg + Cat (it's 100% adorable, so it wholeheartedly gets the Mom Seal of Approval). One of the things Peg does is count by 2s. You asked what she was doing and I explained that she was counting every other number (I figured there was no need to explain that the numbers also had to be divisible by two). You cocked your head to the side and thought about it for a second. Then you were all, "Like, two ... um, four ... six ... uh, eight ... and ten?" (You then kept going all the way until 30). Um, yeah, kid. Just like that. Side note - I like being smarter than you. I can't keep being smarter than you if insist on catching onto concepts this quickly. Keep this up and I'll make you memorize the 50 states in alphabetical order. (I've tried, but after 22 years, I still can't get un-memorize that).
You're all about 'the law'. I have no clue where this 'law' came from but it royally defies any and all logic. If I tell you to brush your teeth before Charlie has brushed his teeth, you fall apart and sob "But Charlie hasn't brushed HIS teeth! It's the LAW that I go SECOND!" If I come to your pretend school and you suddenly realize that I don't have a desk but I try to shrug it off, you wail "But you HAVE to have a desk! It's the LAW! I'll go to JAIL if you don't have a desk!" It would appear that you think that jail is full of rule-breaking four-year-olds. Rule-breaking four-year-olds who brushed their teeth first and whose mothers didn't have a desk at make-believe school.
When I picked you up from school the other day, your teacher came up to me and said "I have GOT to tell you what Natalie did." (That sentence always makes me nervous, by the way). At chapel that day, the teacher asked if anyone wanted to lead the prayer. Well apparently you jumped at the opportunity to pray. You ran right up to the front of the room and, according to the teacher, you "prayed like a grownup". Daddy hadn't been feeling well that week and during your prayer, you asked God to touch Daddy's body and help him feel better. When I heard that, I just wanted to squeeze the stuffins out of you. I was so proud of you. We pray a LOT in our house (because living with two young kids? I either pray or go crazy/crazier) and it delights me to know you're actually absorbing something when we pray. Because most of the time, you fidget or pick the fuzz off your socks or whine because praying takes SO LONG or get in trouble because you insist that you don't know how to be still for 30 seconds.
As you inch closer and closer to five, I inch closer and closer to the time I had intended on stopping these monthly recaps for you. I thought, "I get how babies change from one month to the next, so I definitely want to write monthly recaps when the Smithkids are babies. But I'll probably stop when they turn five. Because how interesting could a four-year-old be from month to the next?" I'll tell you, self. VERY INTERESTING. While I'm not 100% sure I'll keep up with them, I'm 99.8% sure I will. You're too funny not to document. While you might not learn something major from one month to the next, I'm almost guaranteed from you a story that either leaves me in stitches or brings me in tears (or both). You are such a treasure, my sweet doll, and I cherish the memories you've allowed our family to experience. You sweet thang, you.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for November 1, 2013:
You have developed quite the Southern accent over the past few months. It's not Marianna. It's the uber cute little blonde friend in your preschool class who sounds like the classic Southern Belle. You've changed your speech pattern to match hers. And it's HYSTERICAL. Aaaaaand kind of annoying. Because I have to muster extra brain cells to translate from Southern Belle to Normal Folk talk. Case in point:
Me: What would like to drink, peach?
You: Hmmm ... I think I mat like some aaaassss water.
Me: EXCUSE ME? What did you say?
You: [have zero clue why I just started yelling] Uh, I just said I mat like some aaaaassss water.
Me: [thinking in my head] Okay, let's translate to Normal Folk talk. 'Mat' means 'might'. And let's hope for her sake that she did NOT just ask for THAT kind of water. She must mean ice water. And just happens to sound like a debutante.
Me: [out loud] You'd like some ice water?
You: Yes! That's what I said!
Me: Nooooo, you said aaaaassss water. Let's say aye-ssss water.
You: Well, I like saying like aaaaassss water.
Me: I see. And that's a problem.
Here's a simpler version:
You: Good nat, Momma!
Me: Huh?
You: Good nat!
Me: You mean, good niiiiiight?
You: I like saying like this: 'nat'
Your current favorite show is Peg + Cat (it's 100% adorable, so it wholeheartedly gets the Mom Seal of Approval). One of the things Peg does is count by 2s. You asked what she was doing and I explained that she was counting every other number (I figured there was no need to explain that the numbers also had to be divisible by two). You cocked your head to the side and thought about it for a second. Then you were all, "Like, two ... um, four ... six ... uh, eight ... and ten?" (You then kept going all the way until 30). Um, yeah, kid. Just like that. Side note - I like being smarter than you. I can't keep being smarter than you if insist on catching onto concepts this quickly. Keep this up and I'll make you memorize the 50 states in alphabetical order. (I've tried, but after 22 years, I still can't get un-memorize that).
You're all about 'the law'. I have no clue where this 'law' came from but it royally defies any and all logic. If I tell you to brush your teeth before Charlie has brushed his teeth, you fall apart and sob "But Charlie hasn't brushed HIS teeth! It's the LAW that I go SECOND!" If I come to your pretend school and you suddenly realize that I don't have a desk but I try to shrug it off, you wail "But you HAVE to have a desk! It's the LAW! I'll go to JAIL if you don't have a desk!" It would appear that you think that jail is full of rule-breaking four-year-olds. Rule-breaking four-year-olds who brushed their teeth first and whose mothers didn't have a desk at make-believe school.
When I picked you up from school the other day, your teacher came up to me and said "I have GOT to tell you what Natalie did." (That sentence always makes me nervous, by the way). At chapel that day, the teacher asked if anyone wanted to lead the prayer. Well apparently you jumped at the opportunity to pray. You ran right up to the front of the room and, according to the teacher, you "prayed like a grownup". Daddy hadn't been feeling well that week and during your prayer, you asked God to touch Daddy's body and help him feel better. When I heard that, I just wanted to squeeze the stuffins out of you. I was so proud of you. We pray a LOT in our house (because living with two young kids? I either pray or go crazy/crazier) and it delights me to know you're actually absorbing something when we pray. Because most of the time, you fidget or pick the fuzz off your socks or whine because praying takes SO LONG or get in trouble because you insist that you don't know how to be still for 30 seconds.
As you inch closer and closer to five, I inch closer and closer to the time I had intended on stopping these monthly recaps for you. I thought, "I get how babies change from one month to the next, so I definitely want to write monthly recaps when the Smithkids are babies. But I'll probably stop when they turn five. Because how interesting could a four-year-old be from month to the next?" I'll tell you, self. VERY INTERESTING. While I'm not 100% sure I'll keep up with them, I'm 99.8% sure I will. You're too funny not to document. While you might not learn something major from one month to the next, I'm almost guaranteed from you a story that either leaves me in stitches or brings me in tears (or both). You are such a treasure, my sweet doll, and I cherish the memories you've allowed our family to experience. You sweet thang, you.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for November 1, 2013:
- 'Panicking' families brace for billions in cuts to food-stamp benefits
- Midwives sometimes better than doctors, study says [Your mommy agrees!]
- How the NSA snoops: What happens when you hit 'send' on your email
- Cocaine smuggled in pumpkins at Montreal airport
- Boston Red Sox Win World Series!
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