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.