Only My Child

If I could get the two-year old to pick lotto numbers, I think we'd be all set. Either that, or they need to start paying me to watch her for physical comedy ideas on Kelly Ripa's sit-com or something.

I took her to the grocery store (well, first we went to the bank and they wouldn't let us use their restroom even though it was apparent she was in dire straits). Anyway, we made a beeline through produce and made it to the potty on time. She did her business. Somehow, she'd managed to get her shorts off one foot and they were hanging around the other ankle. She does a little kick maneuver and the shorts go arcing over and...yes...into the bowl. Pre-flushed.

I had two choices. I could have left, gone home and got her new shorts, or I could just go on about my business. I chose the latter. So, we went on our merry way through the aisles sans shorts. The silver lining is that her underpants did NOT suffer the same fate as her shorts. Ergo, if anyone saw a curly-headed two year old at the Lambertville Kroger's today wearing nothing on the bottom but bright, pink Dora underpants--um...that's what happened. :)

Aghhhhhh.

Settling In

Ah...subdivision living. I can actually hear bugs at night and see the stars. Our neighbors all have little rugrats just like ours. My son thinks it's like living in Disneyland. The bad news, he's socializing. Ok, so that's good news for him, bad news for me. My aunt warned me. If you think it's bad when your child scrapes his knee or needs stiches (or needs a sponge extracted from his nose or popcorn from his ear...oh, sorry, totally other story), wait until someone hurts his feelings. Yow. She was right. Well, so far so good.

He was riding bikes the other day with all the other little scruffy boys. Ok, ok, so he was the only one who's mom was following behind him, hiding in the shrubs so as not to mess with his nearly five-year-old coolness. My husband suggested I borrow his hunting camo next time. Hey, I just might ;)

More good news. I think the two year old has come off her post-move potty strike. We've gone four whole days with no major accidents (nighttime is another story, but last time I checked, there's no such thing as night pre-school, so we're good for fall). I had to resort to bribery with M&M's though. Still, I'll take it.

Robin