Not Quite Ready for Prime Time

Alexis likes to announce her bodily functions. It's not always necessary since she doesn't exactly poop roses, but it's not a bad thing either. So earlier today when she declared, "Poop!" then proceeded to grab a diaper and the wipes, I thought nothing of it. She was just following the rules that I have established. I will wipe her dirty butt, but only if she fetches and returns all the necessities for me.

However, when I rounded the corner to change her, I found that I hadn't quite understood what she was saying. She filled me in, "Bear pooped." She sat there with her Bear pinned down, wiping his bottom with a baby wipe. I was thinking this was really rather impressive, probably further evidence that I should quit being a lazy, self-centered Mom that plans to wait as long as possible to potty train the poor kid. (I do not want to deal with potty breaks when driving somewhere, eating, standing in line, shopping, or doing anything else that I enjoy. Go ahead, call the Potty Police on me. I don't care!) She set the wipe down, picked up the diaper, and tried to finish the job with Bear. When she couldn't quite get the tabs to reach, I offered to help. Just as I was fastening the first tab, I glanced at her and was startled to realize that she was EATING THE (not really) POOPY WIPE.

OK, so I know it was imaginary poop and all, but I think if you are willing to eat imaginary poop, well then that is all the evidence I need to know that you are not ready for changing real diapers. No siblings for you, you poop eater!

And now I present video of Alexis once again changing Bear's diaper. Please note the lovely gagging sound she makes when opening the diaper and the clever way that she stuffs the (not really) dirty wipe back into the container. So clean and classy. Oh, and the debate around whether Bear should wear an Elmo diaper or a Cookie diaper? She's just trying to push them off onto Bear so she can have all the Zoe diapers for herself. That is how she rolls these days--only Zoe is good enough for her poop.

Irritating the Prisoners, One Day at a Time

Alexis and I have adjusted to stay-at-home life quite nicely. We've settled into a routine and while I think she would prefer that I let her watch Signing Time all day every day, she's getting by just fine.

There is, however, a dog that has not adjusted. In fact, I do believe the dog has had it up to here, young lady. To be honest, I sort of expected it with Jasmine. We are, after all, talking about a dog that has previously been known to like kids because they taste really good with a side of ketchup. Meg, on the other hand, has never displayed anything but the utmost of patience with kids. She has spent many a Thanksgiving and Christmas at family gatherings with no less than 10 kids simultaneously chasing her, tackling her, stealing her toys, riding her, pulling her face, poking her in the eye, and otherwise torturing her in ways that only kids can think of. The freaky part is that she has always loved every minute of it.

So it's a little surprising that Jasmine is still clutching her last shred of patience. She has nipped Alexis a few times, but always when Alexis had ripped enough hair out of her to perform a complete hair transplant on her bald Cabbage Patch doll. In other words, the kid deserved it. I really can't fault the dog when I have been known to want to chew a hole in Alexis' belly for ripping out a chunk of my hair. Actually, come to think of it, Jasmine is showing an amazing amount of tolerance.

No, it's Meg that has had it. Anymore, all Alexis has to do is look at her and Meg will snarl. I don't know if it's the competition for space on the couch (it is, after all, Meg's couch, and the rest of us should never forget it), the fact that Alexis never seems to leave, the constant noise, or what, but Meg is so over the Toddler known as Alexis.

Meg tries to hide, but she's just not the sharpest tool in the shed. She can't seem to figure out that as a 50-pound beast, there is nowhere that she can fit that the 30-pound toddler can't follow. Crawling under the table happens to be a Toddler hobby. Waddling around under the chairs is a Toddler specialty. The Toddler is completely capable of walking into the kitchen. And on the rare occasion that it occurs to Meg to "JUST GO UPSTAIRS ALREADY, YOU MORON," she goes and announces her location by snoring so loudly that Alexis mistakes it as a homing beacon.

I've tried to explain to Meg that all this people food she's been gaining access to can be directly attributed to Alexis. She doesn't see the connection. Even when Alexis begs to give the dogs treats and I go along with it, Meg seems to give me the credit. Alexis is the only one that will pet the dogs (nicely, even!), but yet, she gets no love in return. The poor kid devotes so much love and affection to the dogs and cats (aka the Prisoners), but she gets none in return.

I guess Meg will be thrilled to learn the end is near.

Enough to Make My Mother Roll Over in her Grave

I really had a sad, sad childhood devoid of joys such as Barbie dolls, My Little Ponies, Strawberry Shortcake, and Play-Doh. Play-Doh was an especially contentious past-time because my Mother was convinced the stuff was a tool of the devil, sent to ruin carpet and furniture and make her clean for hours. One year for Christmas, my older cousin took pity on my poor little soul and gifted me with two wondrous jars of ooshy, gooshy joy. We weren't even to the car before the Play-Doh police were called and my happiness was confiscated.

And that is why I know this photo is enough for my Mother to turn over in her grave:

I am such a cool Mom. I bought Play-Doh months ago when daycare kept reporting that Alexis really loved playing with it. I've previously mentioned that whoever wrote the "loves Play-Doh!" notes must have been smoking crack, but lately Alexis has actually started to let me play with her. It's like a dream come true. We've rolled it, cut it with cookie cutters, and cooked it like you probably expect. When Alexis started to take our make-believe a little bit too seriously and began to taste-test her creations, I thought it was time we find some new ways to play.

So we started making impressions of stuff. Her nose, my nose, shoe bottoms, rocks, chairs, doll feet, dog feet, cat feet (don't try that one at home, you'll have to just trust me on that), dog noses, cat noses, cat ears, we've done it all. I don't know how she feels about it, but I've been having the time of my life.

Now if only she would let me play with the Legos . . .