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Archive for April, 2014

The Boo was over a year old when he decided he liked being sung to at bedtime. This did wonders for my self-esteem, what with me being a teenage opera major and all. The songs he likes, however, are far from the repertoire I studied in college.

Here’s the current lineup:

Port Side Pirates, a gem we found to explain what pirates are.

Downtown, yes, the Petula Clark tune. I don’t know all the words, I just fudge my away through a verse and chorus, twice. He also likes me to play it on the piano, and it’s one of my favorites to from a vocal perspective.

Our House, the Madness song from the 80s because yes I am that old. I started singing it on the way home one day and he liked it so much I showed him the video and put it into heavy rotation.

The Thomas And Friends theme song. I won’t inflict a link on you, although as kids’ songs go it is fairly tolerable and interesting to sing.

Last but far from least, Don’t You Worry About a Thing, which I randomly sang in the grocery store one day.

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When you hold your newborn baby in your arms for the first time, your head floods with pure love and thoughts of perfection and perhaps a creeping sense of panic. But one thing is sure: The thought of lying to your child is far, far away. That, my friends, will come later.

Last week I met a mom friend at a playground so we could shout sympathetic things at each other as our toddlers ran in opposite directions. Once we sat down for a snack, though, the conversation turned to the untruths we have used to avert conflict and /or simplify our lives. I can’t recall many of hers, but here are mine:

– We don’t have any more cookies/chocolate/chips.

– Daddy will be home soon.

– The ducks are too cold to eat.

– I can’t understand you when you whine.

– Bears like to stay home. (In reference to the bedtime buddy who increasingly “wants” to leave the house with us.)

– Bears like to go to the doctor. (A confusing inconsistency, I know.)

– Mama forgot. (Used increasingly as the Boo protests the fact that I haven’t let him close the garage door or push the buttons on the microwave or turn a light switch on or off.)

– I don’t know where those stickers went. (Technically true, since I don’t know where the landfill is.)

– The iPad is sleeping.

I’m going to be so screwed when that last one stops working.

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I wish I had made a note of the first time I turned the word “tuna” into a game. My best guess is that I was putting a can of tuna in the pantry, narrating the event like you’re supposed to do so your kid learns to talk all proper-like.

While I don’t know the when or why, I do know what I said. “Tu-nah, tu-nee, tu-nay, tu-nai, tu-no!” You know, like you do when you’re sleep-deprived and desperate for entertainment at three in the afternoon. The kiddo probably laughed, and I probably repeated the string of silliness a few times.

So now this is one of our go-to verbal games. The Boo or I will break into a string of tuna riffing from time to time, and then pause and look at the other player with a silly, expectant grin. We run through the list, usually ending with “tu-no.”

One day last week, I was the one to say “tu-no,” and then the Boo said, “tu-yes.” And giggled at his first joke.

My little boy, folks: Lover of language, maker of goofy jokes.

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You think everything can be fixed with tape or new batteries, even things that don’t take batteries. You also seem to intentionally rip the flaps on your lift-the-flap book so that you can help Mama fix it with pieces of tape that end up anywhere but on the rip.

You are increasingly resistant to diaper changes, often announcing “no diaper today” during the first change of the day.

You are inclined to pinch or scratch Mama (and to a lesser extent, Daddy) when you are tired, sick or wound up. This earns you a stern “you may not hurt Mama” and a short stretch of being ignored.

You have developed a strong distaste for the changing table, but a simple change of venue (a/k/a changing you on the floor or in the living room) has you happy about getting clean again.

You were recently scared away from a piece of playground equipment by an older boy who rushed up as you were getting on it. After that, you whined “no” at every kid who came within 15 feet of you — including infants in strollers.

You got to know your cousins during a recent visit. By the end of it, you were kissing one of them, and letting both of them hug you.

You grew to like your uncle Dave so well during that same visit that you were demanding his finger by the end of it. His willingness to hoist you over his head a dozen times in a row may have had something to do with your esteem for him.

You experienced your first fist bump — with your doctor, during your two-year checkup.

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