The Mischief of Minions

Kids, Family, Insanity…

Death by Lego


T. – Age 3.5 is becoming a Lego Duplo Junkie. He makes ships and cars and most recently something he calls a “Mickey Train,” complete with Dale the Chipmunk inside.

This is cool and all, but I nearly went down the stairs on a Mickey Lego head and had an unfortunate encounter with Lego Donald that cannot be discussed in polite company. I fully anticipate an awkward at best ER visit in my near future!

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Potty training attempt #341


Go sit on the potty right now or the Lego Police Officer is going to get flushed!

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Oddly enough, this one worked. 🙂

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Pre-verbal Madness


My son, T – Age 18 months, has not decided to speak much as yet. This has caused me much panic and angst: worries about what I’ve not done as a parent, mental-flagellation, and frustration over our inability to ask him what the heck he’s thinking.

On the flip side, it’s also occasionally pretty darn funny.

We have our imperfect methods of getting things across:

  • If T. throws a food clear across the room, it either means “yes, mommy, I am done eating that” or “wow, I’ve been meaning to show you how much air I can get on this thang!”
  • If he goes and finds an empty packet of something in the garbage can and brings it to you, this translates to “I would like this please.” The subsequent howl of rage when you tell him there is no more means “Well,heck!”
  • If he shakes his head vehemently from side to side in an exorcist-like fashion, this means he does not approve of your choice of snack. If you do not move quickly enough to remove it, please see line item one.
  • If T. runs around with a bucket on his head, this translates to “Look at me with my bucket hat! Is it not spectacular?”
  • If he grabs onto your clothes and pulls himself up forcibly, the means “Pick me up, you slacker!”
  • If he bursts into tears and starts roaming the house crying as if you’ve broken his heart, this means you’ve guessed his needs inadequately.
  • And finally, if he finds you curled up in a ball on the kitchen floor bawling and puts his arm around you and nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck this means “I love you mommy. We’ll figure this out before I’m twenty, I promise.”
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    Eating Markers and other tales of office supplies


    I admit it: my son has a problem.

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    How do you say vomit in Spanish? ( warning: graphic )


    I remember when I was a little girl in school my friend Harla and I wrote a play for reading class called “Maggot Rice”. The script was just as disgusting as it sounds. The play was complete with a bag of fake vomit (truly inspired) and ghastly wrenching sounds and was the hit of the school. Super funny stuff!

    When it’s your kid, especially the one who can’t even talk, it’s far less funny: gross yes, vaguely reminiscent of clam chowder (except with chunks of orange in it) yes – disgustingly clumpy and all over my clothes and foot, yes. Scary, yes. Funny? No.

    You panic and worry. You feel horrible for them and helpless. Watching anything bad happen to a child is terrifying.

    As you might guess, my son got ill tonight. He seems better and is sleeping peacefully. I will undoubtedly be lying in bed, awake and listening for much of the night.

    What I find truly frightening is what actually just went through my mind while cleaning up the mess. I started thinking:

  • I wonder if Dora ever does a show about getting sick?
  • I wonder how you say vomit in Spanish?
  • Hey, that bit there looks like styrofoam…
  • I feel I may have reached a new parenting low. Children’s programming has taken over my mind.

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    Childhood joys returned


    My daughter (S. Age 4) got a ton of wonderful things for her birthday, but one caused me excitement beyond excitement:
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    Moving Too Quickly


    I haven’t posted in a few days – partially because of the need for both hands: my little boy, T. – Age 14 months is all over the place. If I am not removing him from one dangerous location or another, I am extracting objects from his mouth!

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    Fecal Matters


    As parents with a baby or toddler, there are many things you think you should be discussing. Perhaps you might talk about parenting strategies, or growth charts, or even your hopes and dreams for baby.

    In my home? Somehow we are always talking about poop.

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    Real men are OK with pink..


    Because we had not found out what we were having with – well – either of our children but especially with the first, all of the baby stuff was pretty gender-neutral.

    So when we got our precious baby girl, and she was old enough for her first baby swing, I pushed for pink. Truthfully, I think, I had figured, coming from a family of predominantly girls, it would not matter: clearly I would also have girls.

    Which, of course, didn’t happen. And now that my son is old enough to enjoy such wonderful things, we are too cheap to buy another swing.

    So- pink it is!

    Luckily, my very macho son, T – Age 14 months, is far too cool to let color stand in the way of utter delight:

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    Things that Make Me Jealous of Toddlers


    There are at least a few moments most days when I am jealous of my children.

    They don’t worry about finances, they squeeze into cramped spaces readily, and have a capacity for fun and merriment that I can only longingly admire.

    Best of all? At this point in their lives, the world and the people in it exist solely to cater to their needs and amusement!

    Here are a few photo examples from just this weekend of childish glee:

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