We Joined the Pickle Club

I need only type one little word and dozens of people will know exactly where this story is going. Everybody has been there at some point in time, some of you even recently.

The word: bath.

Know where we're going yet?

Just in case, allow me to set the scene.

I was in Alexis' room this afternoon doing a little cleaning of the new and improved saltwater aquarium (which, I'm proud to say, is about 90% mother trucking worm free--100% is an unattainable goal, so I can live with 90%). Daddy was giving Alexis a bath. He has been charged with bath time for many, many months now and it is a task he enjoys. Except, he's not very good at remembering to stay in the room with the Toddler that is immersed in water. It has a little something to do with the fact that she can play in the bath for hours and a lot something to do with his utter and complete lack of an attention span.

So, he wandered into Alexis' room to supervise my work. He was generally being a pest when I heard them.

The Noises.

You know . . . The Warning Sounds.

Mr. Husband has one of those Man Filters in between his ears and his brain, so I knew he didn't hear and/or recognize the sounds.

So, I said, "Aren't you supposed to be making sure Alexis doesn't drown herself?"

He muttered and made excuses and blah, blah, blahed. In the midst of his procrastinating I heard the confirmation.

"I pooped."

Mr. Husband didn't hear it.

He walked into the bathroom and tried to be slick, "Come here."

I responded, "I'm doing something."

"You need to see what your daughter is holding in her hand," he said.

"No, I really don't," I replied.

And that is how our streak of 2 years, 1 month, 29 days, 23 hours, and 17 minutes of poop-free baths came to an end.

(The photo is from three weeks ago. I wasn't about to go look at the scene in the bathroom, let alone photograph it!)

A Letter for Two

Dear Two,

Hi, there. How have you been? I have been fantastic. Frankly, it's because you haven't been around for a while. I'm sorry, but you really aren't my favorite body snatcher. If we're being honest, and I think we should be, I could have done without ever seeing your face again. The Toddler is just SO FUN when you aren't controlling her little body.

The funny thing is I almost didn't recognize you, what with that new two-faced mask you've taken to wearing. That's pretty clever how you look and act differently depending on which parent is in the room. I admit it's been slightly humorous for me to see Hissy only come out for Mr. Husband. He, however, is not amused. It seems he's not a fan of when you make the Toddler throw temper tantrums. You might want to be careful with that one, Two. He can be a bit irritable.

Saving Nora for me? That was genius. Really, I have to give you full credit. The first few dozen times I saw Nora, I had no idea how to respond. My generally agreeable kid suddenly saying "No" to my every request certainly threw me for a loop. But you know what, Two? I'm not going to take it anymore. Just to be clear, if I say, "Alexis, put your toys away, please," your options are:

a) Allow the child to say, "OK" then start cleaning up the toys,
b) Allow the child to say, "Yes, ma'am" then start cleaning up the toys,
c) Remain silent, but start cleaning up the toys.

There is no option d. There is no "None of the above." And responding with a "No?" Absolutely not acceptable. Period.

Go away, Two, and take Hissy and Nora with you. Thanks.

Sincerely,
The Lady Who Will Not be Told No by a Two-Year Old

Feel Free to Explain it to Me

I found myself really struggling with something this Easter: Why? Seriously--why? Of course I understand the reason for the holiday, but how did it turn into the massive commercial thing it is now? Why do parents feel the need to drop buckets of cash on Easter gifts? Since when did Jesus die so that kids could get new bikes? Or DVDs? Or stuffed bunnies? Or whatever random toys the stores claim that we are supposed to buy our kids for Easter? And why do people who aren't Christians celebrate it? I'm all for a cute bunny hopping around and hiding a few eggs while we spend time with our families, but I don't get how it has anything to do with Easter. I'm very confused about the whole thing.

Anyway, I had zero plans for putting together an Easter basket for Alexis. I figured she really wouldn't care since she's not old enough to know the difference. However, Mr. Husband thought I was a communist for even thinking about skipping out on a basket of crap, so we ran to Target on Saturday and picked up a few things. As in, she got about $20 worth of candy and Play-Doh. That's all. Somehow, I feel like it was plenty.

I'm not totally a non-conformist; Alexis and I did spend about an hour dying eggs. Well, actually she told me what color to use and I died the eggs because it's probably the last time she's going to let me help with that little project in any way. I figured I might as well enjoy it.

Of course Dora managed to invade Easter. I owe that pleasure to the one and only Anglophile Football Fanatic. Oh, and why yes, Alexis did manage to smother an egg with an entire sheet of Dora stickers.

Yummmmm . . . eggs!