The evidences become more apparent with each new moon... Kovi is SO two.
Today we played in his sister's room, he with the Rock Band guitar (having labored quite intensively to retrieve it from the family room), she with an apple sippy cup from last Fall's apple orchard trip. Apparently, the cup was far more interesting because it became the subject of what could have been a bloody UFC cage match.
"And in this corner, wearing the cheetah leggings (thanks Lindsay!) and pink smocked top, weighing in at a buttery 19lbs, Ever the Chubby Puppet Gaaaaann."
"Wearing the camo pants and orange striped robot shirt, weighing in at bicep-building 29lbs, Kovi the Terrible Two's Woog Gaaaaaann."
With the bickering building up, I intervened and settled the disagreement, giving Ever back her apple and attempting to interest a very disheartened Woog in something equally cool...like my bellybutton. No go. Teething rings hanging from my ears. Nothin. Balanced a book about Dogs on my head. Rejected. No matter how much of an ass I made of myself, he continued to delve deeper into pissyness.
*Buckle up kids...he's a performer.
He was already sobbing- the kind that made his face look like an old man or a raisin. His chin was tucked, so...a chubby raisin with shiny, razory chompahs. He started swatting at the air like he was shooing flys or a bad Dublin fart. I tried to sing Wheels on the Bus, but he swatted faster making his curls bounce and sob drool zip out of his mouth willy nilly. Then he went over to Ever's crib and rammed it with his head, not hard, but he was committed to displaying his displeasure. More swatting. More raisin face. Drool zinging.
I ignored the behavior, moved out of the drool drop zone and focused on Ever who was beginning to enjoy Woog's show. She mimicked his swatting and squealed.
She and I played eat the apple, or her version, slobber on the apple until it drips with slime then shove the slimy apple into Mom's eye taking care to run said apple down the length of Mom's face with forceful concentration around the sensitive throat area. Kovi's agitation grew and he responded with a full-body drop and flail. He pelvic-thrusted in the air, raisin, thrust, raisin, thrust.
Then, it was as if the clouds parted and God appeared holding a delicious train-shaped cookie that puffed the words "dog-dog" from it's smoke stack just for him. And all became right in his little world.
Hooray for Two...this should prove interesting and wet.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
In Case You Didn't Know
We are all aware of the recent and devestating Haitian earthquake. Poor folks. While rescue teams search for survivors and aid makes it way to those in need, our very own Big Daddy is working hard to help reestablish cellular communication on the island.
Nifty, eh? I'm very proud to be married to such a smart, sweet man.
Love you Big Daddy <3
Nifty, eh? I'm very proud to be married to such a smart, sweet man.
Love you Big Daddy <3
Overdue Update
*My Son the Fashionista*
We've been moving at the speed of...Kovi. Obviously, posting has been put on the back burner- far enough away to now be consider a Coleman stove. Sorry. I promise to make it up to you, posting lots of adorable grandbaby pictures. In the meantime, here are a few anecdotes to passify your chubby widget needs.
This afternoon Kovi was going down for a nap while his sister and I played in her room across the hall. For 20 minutes, Kovi could be heard talking to himself, taking to his babies, playing his gloworm, banging around in the crib- evidences that he was not going to sleep.
I went in to check on him, prepared to lay him down, rub his head and pat his tummy until he agreed to go night-night. Instead, Kovi was standing up, bare-assed and smiling, his wild hair aflame about his little face...and with his diaper on his head. The look on my face must have conveyed confusion because he blurted out, "HAT!" Biting my lip, I tried my best not to bust-out laughing... the thing was, he sported the diaper/hat like it was the most natural, fashion-forward thing to do. Yes, it's a diaper...that I like not peeing in, but, Mom, it is also a fabulous accessory! See?!
As I got closer to the crib he pointed at a wet spot on the sheet and said, "pee-pee," then, "diaper," and finally, "HAT! HAT!" I nodded, understanfing the sequence of events.
After re-diapering and re-clothing and re-sheeting, he layed down, patted his own tummy and said "night, night Mama."
*The Curse of the No-Tailed Dog*
Later in the evening while I was preparing dinner, Kovi and Ever were playing sweetly in the living room. After a few moments, I noticed an unusually wide-eyed Dublin staring at me. Curious, I poked my head around the corner to get the full view of him. And HOLY Stink Finger... there was Kovi with a very chubby digit plugged into Dublin's cornhole. I hollered. Kovi removed his finger and Dublin sorta chugged to life, tucking his butt down and bucking forward, like an old time car springing to life.
Still hollering, I snatched Kovi and ran to the sink, attempting (and dismally failing) to explain to a not-quite-two-year-old why we don't put our fingers in our dog's butts. Sanitized to near boiling, the freshly scrubbed, slightly red-handed chubby little cherub toddled off to less stinky play, while I tried to erase the image of Dublin's bug-eye look from my memory.
We've been moving at the speed of...Kovi. Obviously, posting has been put on the back burner- far enough away to now be consider a Coleman stove. Sorry. I promise to make it up to you, posting lots of adorable grandbaby pictures. In the meantime, here are a few anecdotes to passify your chubby widget needs.
This afternoon Kovi was going down for a nap while his sister and I played in her room across the hall. For 20 minutes, Kovi could be heard talking to himself, taking to his babies, playing his gloworm, banging around in the crib- evidences that he was not going to sleep.
I went in to check on him, prepared to lay him down, rub his head and pat his tummy until he agreed to go night-night. Instead, Kovi was standing up, bare-assed and smiling, his wild hair aflame about his little face...and with his diaper on his head. The look on my face must have conveyed confusion because he blurted out, "HAT!" Biting my lip, I tried my best not to bust-out laughing... the thing was, he sported the diaper/hat like it was the most natural, fashion-forward thing to do. Yes, it's a diaper...that I like not peeing in, but, Mom, it is also a fabulous accessory! See?!
As I got closer to the crib he pointed at a wet spot on the sheet and said, "pee-pee," then, "diaper," and finally, "HAT! HAT!" I nodded, understanfing the sequence of events.
After re-diapering and re-clothing and re-sheeting, he layed down, patted his own tummy and said "night, night Mama."
*The Curse of the No-Tailed Dog*
Later in the evening while I was preparing dinner, Kovi and Ever were playing sweetly in the living room. After a few moments, I noticed an unusually wide-eyed Dublin staring at me. Curious, I poked my head around the corner to get the full view of him. And HOLY Stink Finger... there was Kovi with a very chubby digit plugged into Dublin's cornhole. I hollered. Kovi removed his finger and Dublin sorta chugged to life, tucking his butt down and bucking forward, like an old time car springing to life.
Still hollering, I snatched Kovi and ran to the sink, attempting (and dismally failing) to explain to a not-quite-two-year-old why we don't put our fingers in our dog's butts. Sanitized to near boiling, the freshly scrubbed, slightly red-handed chubby little cherub toddled off to less stinky play, while I tried to erase the image of Dublin's bug-eye look from my memory.
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