Snowmobiling Santa?

Today Canaan was watching "Santa Buddies" a special about puppies that save Christmas. It was too long for him to really follow, but he enjoyed watching the dogs in Christmas hats (so did I, let's be honest!). At one point, there was a shot of a dog walking across the frozen Arctic Tundra with Santa, and Canaan said "Their snowmobile must have broke down, Mommy!". Clearly, his father's influence is rubbing off.

Tell Me if You Find It!

Today I found Canaan scrabbling frantically through a basket full of toys. When I asked him what he was looking for, he replied "peace of mind!". I asked him to please let me know if he found it-that's a scarcity around here.

My Children, the Locusts

The downside to taking my children to other people's  houses is that most people without small children don't find it necessary to hide all of their edibles. Either that, or they think I'm exaggerating when I talk about the amount that my boys eat. I wish I were; it would save me a fortune in groceries. However, one child is a toddler whose definition of "food" is very loose, and the other is a 3-year-old Hoover. My children take horrible advantage of food left unattended whenever we go visiting. Today they descended upon the fruit basket at my neighbor's and would have happily swallowed clementines whole had I not stopped them-instead, our talk was punctuated by small voices saying "you OPEN DIS!!" (this is how they ask you to peel a fruit). I was met with great fury when I finally stopped the massacre for fear a child would explode. Not fifteen minutes later, Canaan demanded to go downstairs-"I watch Story Train and you START IN THE KITCHEN, MOMMY! I need dinner!" One would think I never fed them.

His Own Language

Canaan is very articulate but that certainly doesn't mean I have a clue what he's actually talking about. Case in point: Today, I asked him what television show he wanted to watch while I made dinner. His answer? "I want to watch the toilet papers!!" The mysterious toilet papers eluded me, but he settled for Thomas the Tank Engine (aka "Thomas Tanker Nengine). He has also been going into hysterics over something called a "rips"-he'll come up to me and say "That's a RIPS!" and run away laughing uncontrollably. It's been happening for weeks and I've yet to gain any insight into the origin of "rips".

Christmas-isms

Canaan has an issue with the word "Christmas". It's not that he dislikes it, but he can't say it. He calls it "Cursemas". As the primary holiday shopper in the house, I can't disagree! Yesterday, he was describing Cursemas to Ezra; apparently, Cursemas is "a tree and shiny lights, and there is Thomas Tanker Nengine, and a Spongebob! And sometimes, there is a firetruck, and a helicopter, and a trailer for cows". So, in case anyone's looking for a new twist on the Christmas story, there you have it.

A "Gross" Misunderstanding

Yesterday, Canaan was watching a show about a farm. All was well until I heard an unearthly shriek from his room. My first thought was that somebody had flipped the switch that controls the television, so I went to fix it. The television was still on, however, and Canaan was gesturing toward it agitatedly. On the screen was a pig sitting in a pen, covered in mud. He started yelling "Mommy! Mommy! You need to CLEAN THIS PIGGY! He is covered in POOP! OH NO!" He was really upset and I was having SUCH a hard time not laughing about it! He calmed down once I explained it was dirt, but now every time he sees the pig he comes to me to confirm "Piggy is just dirty? Not poopy?"

Reading to Ezra

This is what happens when you read a book to Ezra:

Me: "A cow says moo"
Ezra: "MOOOO! They say MOOOOO! MOOOOOO!"
Me: "A sheep says-"
Ezra: "Cows say MOOOOOOO!"
Me: "Right. 3 singing pigs say..."
Ezra:*turns page* "No, no, nonononono"
Me: "The pigs say oink"
Ezra: "MOINK! Piggies! MOOOOOOOINK!"
Me: "Rhinoceroses..."
Ezra: "MOINK!" *runs away*

This is why story time is NOT a before-bed activity at my house. Not calming at all.

Punny

For his birthday, Canaan received a Bruder Jeep and horse trailer set. It came complete with a brown rubber horse to pull around in the trailer. This morning, I asked Canaan what he wanted to name it, and without hesitation he answered "Charlie". Yes, my child named his new toy "Charlie Horse". I am so proud.

Yes, Really

Earlier today, I heard the lovely sound of toddler laughter emanating from the small squishy one. As any mother can tell you, this is a sound that should be investigated immediately; its source is usually Things Not Allowed. When I tracked down the small one, he wasn't doing anything not allowed...exactly. He was banging his forehead on the wall and laughing hysterically at the subsequent hollow noise (from the wall, not his head). Other kids play with toys to amuse themselves-mine beats his face on a wall. Someday when he does something epically foolish (and he will) I'll know exactly why.

A Birthday Boy

Canaan turned 3 yesterday, and his Gramper bought him a tricycle! Here he is, in all his glory! (Next purchase-helmet!)

Canaan the Ninja

So my kids aren't allowed to drink soda for the most part, except maybe a sip. Therefore, soda is equated with the Water of Life by the boys, especially Canaan.

Last week, I bought everyone fast food for lunch. I got a soda-a Diet Coke. It was late in the afternoon-no soda for the kids. Canaan disagreed with the ruling though and started looking for a way to circumvent it. Finally, he saw an opening when our friends decided to visit. He waited until I was good and distracted, and entered....Stealth Mode. For a 3-year-old that communicates mainly at ear-shattering decibels, Stealth Mode doesn't come easily. Apparently it worked though, because mid-conversation I glanced down to find him laying on the floor at my feet, calmly sucking soda out of the cup. Did he look guilty, you ask? No, he screeched with rage when the soda was removed and placed on a shelf. He better have a future in the CIA.

The Mysterious Smell

Today when I went into Canaan's room, I noticed...a Smell. It wasn't an overtly terrible smell, it was one of those smells that makes you go "What is that? Am I  just imagining that?" Then, as you follow your nose (What is it that makes us do that, by the way? Why do we feel compelled to track disgusting scents to their source?) you find that no, you did NOT imagine it, and furthermore, it's getting more sickening as you investigate. I tracked the smell diligently. Not behind the dresser, or the bookshelf, or under the baseboard heater. Not in the stuffed animals. As I climbed over the bed, around the precariously balanced television, and behind the last box in the corner, I found it. A tomato. Not a recent tomato, either. This was most definitely an antique tomato. It smelled like a combination of vinegar, mold and rotten cheese, if someone had rubbed it all over their feet and then run the Boston Marathon. Thank heaven it was a small tomato. I dread the day he becomes strong enough to carry watermelons.

Cats Are Confusing

Canaan loves, loves, loves the kitty, but finds the actual process of learning basic cat anatomy to be confusing (maybe it's the fur??). Say "Canaan, pick up kitty around the tummy" and he inevitably goes for the head. For a long time he was also unclear as to which end of kitty was the front, but he seems to have resolved that. However, the matter that still brings him to deep puzzlement is the matter of kitty's teeth and claws.
He has mentioned the cat's claws more than once; when asked if he wanted Flower (the cat) to sleep in his bed, he said "no, because Kitty's toes are too sharp sometimes". Reasonable enough. Cats are infamous for turning from balls of snuggly fluff into prickly little scratch-machines, this is true. My most vividly remembered moment is this: Canaan is playing too roughly with the kitty. She carefully unsheathes ONE claw and lightly pokes him in the arm (a sort of kitty "hey, stop it!" sign). Canaan looks up at me and goes "Mommy, kitty has teeth in its FEET!!" Then, in a more speculative tone, "Mommy, kitty's head is in its toes??". Of course, that matter has since been resolved, but he still refers to the cat's claws as "teeth in its feet".

We Got a Cat-Maybe a Bad Move

So, I got a kitten. We fostered one for our upstairs neighbor for a few days and everyone enjoyed her so much that we got a cat of our own. The boys are thrilled with her, and Canaan has named her "Flower". Unfortunately, the affection of toddlers is a dangerous thing. Canaan spent an entire week trying to convince me that the kitty didn't mind when he picked her up...by the head. His reasoning? "Monarch doesn't mind when I grab HIS head!" Monarch is a pony-a toy pony. Monarch also doesn't mind being tossed in the washing machine, so I'm pretty sure that his level of tolerance is slightly higher than a cat's.
This week, he has finally gotten over trying to carry her, and now just likes to sit with her on the couch. Today though, he tried to sit on her. I'm still not very clear on why.

Ezra also loves her very much, and every time he sees her he bounces excitedly and yells "Kit-TAAAAAYYYY!" Then he goes up to her, touches her nose with his nose, and tries to poke her in the eye. Without fail. Luckily, she's quite agile and his hand-eye coordination isn't great. At least he's realized that he can't eat her-he stuck her tail in his mouth yesterday, looked at me and said "Yuck". Yuck, indeed.

The Tiny Dictator

Canaan is lecturing Ezra on why he shouldn't stand in the highchair: "No, no Brother, you sit on you BOTTOM! You stand, you fall on you head! Then you cry, you yell, you fuss, you whine-you be SO SAD! It will make you sad if you fall on you head. You sit and do clapping." Brother is not impressed. The fact that Canaan finds pretty much everything worth "crying, yelling, fussing and whining" over may have something to do with it.

The Baby Has Hysterics

Throwing

Like a lot of toddlers, Canaan throws his toys when he gets mad. Earlier today he got really angry with Ezra over something, and he stomped over to me and said "Don't throw THE BROTHER!!" with a HUGE frown. Luckily, he can't even lift Ezra, so throwing him isn't exactly a real danger.

Blanket Generalizations, or, Why Cows Live Outdoors

My husband forgot his dinner today. We went to the farm to bring it to him, and used it as an opportunity to go in the barn and see the "milkin' 'sheen" (milking machine). 
While visiting the cows, one pooped on the floor as cows often do.Canaan looked shocked and immediately said "Oh no cow!! You had an accident! You should poop in the potty, not on the floor!"

The entire ride home was spent talking about the cow's "accident". He remains unconvinced that cows don't use a toilet, especially since he saw a toilet in the barn and used it himself. He kept reiterating that "pooping on the floor is NOT a good idea! Always poop in the POTTY!" 

Canaan Channels the Zac Brown Band

Canaan really, really likes to sing. One of his new favorites is The Zac Brown Band's "Where the Boat Leaves From". However, he can't get the words quite right.

Their version:

So get away to where the boat leaves from
It takes away all of your big problems
You got worries you can drop them in the blue ocean
But you gotta get away to where the boat leaves from

His version:
Get away, to where the boat leaves from
It takes away all of your big problems
The brothers can jump into the blue ocean
But you gotta get away to where the boat leaves from*

I am not sure if he thinks Ezra would enjoy jumping into the ocean or not, but Canaan certainly thinks it's a good idea. Some days more so than others. 



*All lyrics not in bold courtesy of The Zac Brown Band

Ezra's River Nile

My house is falling down around my ears, thanks in no small part to my children. Ezra has apparently appointed himself the King of Destruction; he is not content unless he is sitting in the midst of a shambles. His new favorite thing is "cleaning" my refrigerator-he yanks open the door and frantically opens both the vegetable crisper drawers, flinging produce far and wide.
Today, he proved that he is devious beyond my suspicions. I was cleaning up the living room when I thought I heard running water. As the only adult home, I knew without a doubt that water should not be running. I proceeded to the kitchen, and there sat Ezra in front of the open refrigerator. He had discovered the container of Gatorade with a dispenser spout on it and promptly flipped the stopper open. A river of green was coursing towards my cardboard recycling and my back door (did I ever mention that my apartment floors are slightly slanted?). I snatched up the baby and staunched the nuclear-colored hemorrhage. Damage averted...for now. Ezra the Fierce Beast, King of Destruction, will strike again soon.

Recent Canaan-isms

Canaan was mad at me because I wouldn't let him have hay for dinner (he discovered today that hay is cow food). He also told me, in his infinite wisdom, that "If daddy's farm made tractors and not just cow food, they would have lots and lots and LOTS of tractors!".

Last week, he told me quite decisively that he needed "A hundred and four dollars". He never told me why, but mentions it every once in a while still. Immediately following, he always says "You are not getting a hundred and four dollars". At least he knows.

 

Ezra and the Great Poop Disaster

This happened last week, but I was too traumatized to write about it until now. Last week, I found out two things; 1) why Velcro diapers are not a good idea for a nosy, Macgiver-inspired child, and 2) why all children should come with bio-hazard warnings.

It was a day like every other day. The children were sleeping, and I was sitting on the couch folding laundry. Suddenly, I heard a noise. It was a cross between a squeak and a squawk, but it was not a noise of distress. In fact, it sounded like the noise of a baby, happily playing in his crib after his nap. So, I didn't panic and resumed folding my laundry.
A few minutes later, the noise turned from a squawk to a SCREEEEEEEEECH-this noise was unmistakable. A small person was ANGRY. So I sighed, left the laundry to watch television without me, and went to remove His Angriness from the Cage of Cruel and Unnecessary Confinement (better known as a "crib").
When I opened the door, my nostrils were immediately assailed with the kind of smell usually associated with the streets of medieval England in the midst of summer. An unmistakable smell. The smell...of POOP. I still didn't panic--I am a veteran of the poopy diaper. I thought to myself "The room is small. The window is closed. Perhaps it is just a result of the non-circulating air". This, my friends, was wishful thinking at its finest.
I opened the curtain and beheld a horror like no other. Graffiti covered my child, his crib, the wall, the floor, and everything in the crib. Graffiti-made of poop. LOTS of poop. Despite (or maybe because of) his poopy-ness, the small screeching Picasso smiled brightly when he saw me. I removed the child, placed him in the (waterless) tub, held my breath and threw everything in the crib into the washer (except the musical giraffe, which I had the pleasure of hand-washing).
That was last week. The crib, stuffed animals and baby were all restored to their former, feces-free state. However, I still shudder a bit with trepidation when going to get him out of the crib; I never know what I'll find.

Picture post!

Video001(2), originally uploaded by tangleb0x.

Ezra "splooshing"!!

Making "soup".


Some lovely dirt for Mommy:


Ezra in the Wild:


He's Off!


Ezra was VERY impressed with the slide:


Fat, fat baby!


Skinny, skinny toddler:


"Scoopin'"


More "scoopin'"
 

Moments that make you go "NOOOOOOO!"

Yesterday, I was folding laundry. The children were playing happily and quietly, so I should have guessed that something was up, but I just counted my blessings and kept folding. Ten minutes in...(in order to properly picture the scene, imagine all of Canaan's sentences ending in a squeak).
Canaan: "Brother's playing in the WATER!!"
Me: "What water? Where? Why is brother playing in water in the house?"
Canaan: "Brother found water in the bathroom! I help him open the water!"
Me:".......um......" (running)
Canaan "See brother, Mommy? Brother!!"

Entering the bathroom, I view Ezra....happily splashing in the toilet.
Canaan: "See? I help brother! I so kind!"
Me: "EWWWW!"

Yes, my kid played in the toilet. Thank goodness I had cleaned it the day before. Now I can't keep him out of the bathroom.

The bunnies are the driver's favorite passengers

Canaan is singing "Wheels on the Bus". He was singing away, then he got to "The bunnies on the bus go..................." (long silence). 
Abrupt switch-"The horn on the bus goes toot toot toot!" Apparently, there is no noise acceptable for bunnies to make.
After the horn, he moved on to moose-"The moose on the bus go moose moose moose!" I guess moose noises are hard to pin down too. 

The Beast Has Awoken (permanently, it seems)

Apparently, in the 18 months since the Big turned one, I have forgotten something that goes with baby birthdays. Funky sleep patterns. My precious, adorable, sleeps-like-a-log Ezra has turned whiny, fussy and WAKE-Y. He is NOT interested in going to sleep. He is less interested in staying asleep. He won't even consider going back to sleep without being re-fluffed, re-tucked, re-pacified, and requires many, many windings of his musical "Giraffe-y". I know all the moments when small boys need their Mommy gradually lessen over time and I should be grateful for his babyness-but I'm not likely to feel that sentimental at 3 AM. Fat Ezra-I love you; now please turn back into sound-sleeper Ezra. Thank you.

Happy Birthday Little Boy!

Ezra fedora, originally uploaded by tangleb0x.

Thomas and the Jailbreak

Yesterday, we went on two Epic Adventures. The first was to the mall, to buy birthday presents for the Little as well as various other sundries. The second was to Price Chopper, because the fridge, freezer and all the cupboards were empty. Really and truly empty. While at Price Chopper, Daddy bought Big this:

Now, this particular Thomas is VERY securely fastened into the package. Unfortunately, it is displayed in a cutaway so that little children can see and touch Thomas, but not get him out. So, for the subsequent grocery shopping and while waiting in line, I had to hear "Mommy, want to get Thomas OUT!" in a high, squeaky voice. Repeated approximately every 30 seconds.
Finally, convinced my head would explode if I heard the phrase even one more time, I handed Big a pencil, and told him to draw a picture of Thomas on the box. He did that, but then decided to use the pencil to better ends, and tried to stab enough holes in the box to break Thomas out. It didn't work, but I admired his initiative!


*Photo of Thomas the Tank Engine courtesy of Amazon.com

I didn't know I was broken!

Today, Canaan approached me with a small wrench. He then placed it around my fingers and proceeded to "tighten" them. "I fix the MOMMY!" he said. Oddly, he is the only one who noticed that I needed fixing.

A misunderstanding of the animal kingdom

A lot of Canaan's comical moments seem to involve animals.

The other day, we went to the grocery store. As soon as we got there, Canaan says "Mommy, I want to buy a goat!"

Me: "Um....they don't sell goats here, buddy".

Canaan: "Are NO GOATS at the grocery store?"

Me: "No. Definitely no goats."

Canaan: "And no tractors?"

Me: "Nope, no tractors either."

Canaan: "So I can buy a pony??"

Um....explanation FAIL.

He also just told me that he couldn't sit on the potty because there was a chicken in it.

Brothers don't DO that.

A recent conversation between my children:

Canaan: "Brother, say ma-ma-ma".

Ezra: "Googoogoo" *raspberry*

Canaan: "No brother, say MA MA MA".

Ezra (hopefully): "Wub?"

Canaan (marching away): "Mommy, brothers can't DO talking!"

Picture post!

Yesterday, we ventured into The Great Outdoors. We did "scoopin de dirt" (Canaan) and Ezra tasted everything that didn't run away first. It was a productive afternoon.

At least SOMEBODY remembers the rules!

A conversation with Canaan in the car:
Me: "Canaan, what's your brother saying?"
Canaan (adamantly): "Don't kick the seat!".
At least Ezra remembers the rules!

Cleaning gone too far!

DSC00340, originally uploaded by tangleb0x.

Canaan and I got a little carried away cleaning today-this was the result!

Sooooooo big!

My precious Squishy is 11 months old today. I can't believe we're about to celebrate his first birthday-it seems just yesterday that he was born.

The Books of Canaan

Canaan is reading Fox in Socks, which he calls his "book of puddle paddle battle". All books are referred to by what is in them, not by the title-it sounds like some odd Biblical spin-off where all the apostles are scenes or inanimate objects. We have the Book of Backhoe, the Book of Thomas (the tank engine) the Book of Feet, the Book of "brush and brush the teeth" and the Book of Many, Many Animals.

Easter and Beyond

 My dad and sister were gone for a week, so I took the kids to stay with my mom from Sunday until this Thursday. While there, they managed to wreak colossal havoc. My parent's house is basically a small child's dream-they have a big yard, lots of toys, and a menagerie-four cats, four dogs, five horses and chickens. There have also been goats, pigs and turkeys at various other times. Canaan thinks he's died and gone to heaven every time we go there. They both love animals.

Canaan rode a pony....

and shared his carseat with the dog.

Ezra really liked the dogs, too.

 They also both slept very well due to all of the exciting activities. I need to take them on more vacations!

Ah, the hazards of bathtime.

After a long day of playing in the giant sandbox at our local playground, both of my children were sorely in need of a bath. Now, bathing two children in one tub is so drastically different from bathing one child, it should really have a different name.
It begins thusly: while the children are eating dinner, I remove all of the toys from the tub, scrub it and fill it. I have approximately 30 seconds to accomplish this before Canaan comes racing in saying "Tub? Tub? I can have tub? Now? Now? NOW???" He continues in this vein for approximately 10 minutes or until I banish him.
After it is full, I get the baby and place him in the tub. As soon as he glimpses the water, he begins waving his arms furiously in preparation for all of the splashing he wants to accomplish. Once they are both in the tub, I have a few minutes of peace before Canaan decides to become creative.
Tonight, he decided to clean. He took a Hello Kitty toothbrush and carefully scrubbed, in this order, the tub, his brother, the spout cover and lastly his own teeth. He then attempted to brush my teeth but I dodged. Then he tried to "swarsh (wash) the Mommy" but I dodged that too (becoming a mother is wonderful for honing the reflexes!) So, bottom line-my kids are clean, and so is my floor. Unintentional multitasking is still multitasking!

Oklahoma-the musical. NOW with new characters!!

Canaan is singing "The Surrey with the Fringe on Top" from Oklahoma!, but he can't quite get the words right. Instead of singing "Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry" he is singing "Chicks and ducks and Lightning McQueen".

Check out those baby blues!

download-1, originally uploaded by tangleb0x.

I think his eyes are nicely accented by his fabulous bedhead!

Chicken Tractor

Today Canaan demanded my help in locating one of his seven million toys (number is an approximation). The toy he wanted? He refers to it only as the "chicken tractor". He has both tractors and chickens but nothing that combines the two and he isn't giving me a single clue as to what it could be. However, I'm definitely supposed to find it. King Arthur had the Holy Grail-I have the Chicken Tractor.

Foraging

One would think I never fed Squishy-he is developing his foraging talents. He enjoys sneaking up on Big and just face-planting into whatever he's eating-chaos always ensues. Big views food with great reverence and finds the idea of face-planting directly into someone else's dessert appalling, to say the least. Squishy also knows that I'm not quite used to the idea of him standing yet, so I tend to leave food where he can eat it if he's quick enough. Yesterday, he ate a sticky bun roughly the size of his head that he stole off an end table. More impressive is that I was in the room at the time-Squishy just hid behind the couch. I have restricted my eating time to nap time or bedtime-it's the only way I actually get to eat my food.

He's Got it Under Control

Today, Squishy procured for himself a screwdriver (plastic) and a wrench (real, but tiny). He then crawled about the house banging purposefully on all of the cupboards. After he had beaten them into submission, he gave a satisfied "Oh-HO" noise and placed them down. Apparently his work was finished. I'm calling Guiness-they must have a category for "World's Tiniest Repairman".

Good Parenting

One of the most amusing (and occasionally sobering) things about having a toddler is constantly having your own actions reflected back at you. Canaan models his words, actions and tone of voice on the things that I do. It's most noticeable when he repeats me verbatim, or when he says something cringe-worthy that he learned from me. It is nice to see that he is learning from me how to be empathetic though, and he also watches out for baby Ezra very nicely. Yesterday:

Setting: Canaan's room.

Ezra is crawling into the corner.

Canaan: "No, no buddy! Get out of there, buddy! You don't want to play in there! (exasperatedly) "Come OUT OF THERE, baby Ezra! OUT OF THERE!" 

He sounded just like me.

He was trying to help...

So yesterday, Big and I were playing a game that involved balancing a small truck on my head. Since it had wheels, it kept rolling off. After about ten minutes, he placed it back on my head and said "I go get the glue!!"

I had to spend the next fifteen minutes explaining why I did NOT want a truck glued to my head, even though it was a "so boo-ful (beautiful) truck".

He is teaching me manners!

So apparently I'm rude, at least according to Big. We often play a game where I call him a "terrible, terrible boy" or a "stinky, stinky boy". Today I asked him "are you sooooo stinky??" and he goes "Mommy, NOT NICE!" He was so serious!

Why I am the worst mommy EVER

Today, I refused to let my son bring snow into the house so he could take a nap with it. I am clearly the cruelest person ever to walk the planet.

Canaan's cow story: "Cows say moo. Cows live on the farm. Cows like milk. Cows like Kix (cereal) too. They drink milk from the milkin' 'sheen (milking machine). Cows on the farm like Daddy!!"

No two children are alike. If you have just given birth to your second child, if you are pregnant with your second child, or if you are just vaguely contemplating having another child in the distant future, people will start telling you this. Everyone will start telling you this; mothers, fathers, grandparents, teachers, daycare workers, and even people whose nearest experience with a child was the time that they substituted for the school crossing guard. They will repeat it so often that you may find yourself muttering it like a sort of mantra.
Now, to most people (parents or not) this seems an obvious truth. However, until you are confronted with the day-to-day reality of juggling the wants and needs of more than one child, you will only know it intellectually.
My two children are so different I’m pretty sure that it’s cosmic comeuppance for the relative ease with which my first child passed through babyhood. No, my second son is not a difficult baby. However, aside from the fact that my children are both male, they have nothing else in common except DNA. They don’t even look alike.
Canaan, my older child (known around here as “His Highness”) breastfed voraciously from the moment he was born. He turned up his nose at every type of bottle with expressed milk in it-consequently he went everywhere with me until he ate enough solid food for me to be gone for more than fifteen minutes.
His brother is a bottle baby and drinks everything from formula to apple juice with equal enjoyment-he is also a devotee of the pacifier.
Until he was over a year old, Canaan would not go to sleep without a ritualistic combination of patting, rocking, singing and not one but TWO fans providing a wall of white noise. If a person happened to sneeze in the same room, he would bounce awake.
Ezra is placed in a crib with a pacifier and drifts off without so much as a peep.
Ezra has even managed to defeat my “no disposable diapers EVER” gospel by peeing so copiously that no cloth diaper can possibly be used for more than 45 minutes.
So, there you have it-no two children are alike. That’s probably why childcare books continue to be published and will on into infinity. However, as challenging as two can be, the constant chaos is a thoroughly enjoyable experience.

A mystery for the ages!

So, I just found a rotten kiwi fruit hidden behind an end table in my house. It is full of toddler-sized finger holes, almost as if someone had poked the kiwi fruit repeatedly before hiding it. Who would do such a thing??

The Evidence

Apparently Monday is "Play-with-your-food" day at my house: Canaan dumped out a bottle of red sugar crystals so he could scoop them with his toy skidsteer, and then Ezra finger-painted my floor with goat cheese that he stole from the fridge.

Apparently they're dangerous

Yesterday I was making a quilt for Squishy. Big was evidently very affected by my repeated admonishments against touching my sewing machine. When he saw me pressing the pedal with my foot he came over and lifted my foot up, placed it firmly on the floor, and said "No, no Mommy, not to play with!"

Wants and Needs

Canaan has recently earned the privilege of accompanying me on foot through the grocery store rather than riding in the cart. He is actually quite well-behaved and I like the fact that it tires him out quite a bit. Yesterday, we were concluding our grocery-purchasing activities through the diaper aisle when the following scenario occured:
Setting: Price Chopper grocery aisle.
Players: Mommy, super-loaded grocery cart, fat baby, toddler.

Canaan is barreling along when...
(Picture a small child stopping so fast that his shoes almost come off).
"MOMMY! MOMMY!"
"What?"
"Mommy, that is a MONSTER TRUCK. I want that MONSTER TRUCK. I NEED THAT MONSTER TRUCK. I get it!"
(This was not a tantrum; he was so fascinated with it that he crouched down and rested his nose gently on the molded plastic frame).
We are now the proud owners of one overpriced Monster Jam monster truck. It is SUPER NEAT!

The celebrity!

Here is Canaan in "Lightning McQueen" mode.


And here is dear little Squishy-in cow mode!

Why name him at all??

My dear beloved Big has decided that the name his father and I so lovingly picked out for him just WILL NOT DO. He would much prefer that we refer to him as Lightning McQueen, the famous racecar, who is "fast so fast so speedy quick!" Yes, this is his full title. You may not shorten it to "Lightning". He has also decided to rename Little Squishy. His choice? Monarch, after his beloved stuffed pony (who is named after Grammy's real-life pony). Squishy doesn't seem to mind so far, although he's not a big fan of carrots.

We are back and running!

So, ever since Squishy Little has become a mobile unit, Big-Big has been trying to figure out how one handles a continuous hostile takeover of one's belongings. Castles under siege have undergone less drama then one high-strung toddler whose brother touches the wrong toys.
Herein lies the problem: he is oblivious to the fact that Squishy is totally incapable of following directions-I often here "Brother, get out of there! No, don't TOUCH the tower!" Most exclamations are made as Squishy ("Brurr" to Big) is gleefully embedded within a pile of toys. I'm thinking of putting on a low-budget Godzilla remake. The cast will look like this:
Godzilla: 25-lb. 8-month-old.
Fleeing people, police officers, heroes, etc: Angry toddler.
Peter Jackson, look out.