Into the bowl

I had pulled the boys from their bath, and they, as their custom, ran into the family room to huddle in their towels.  I made sure that they were watching child appropriate television programming.  Evan was huddled on the arm chair.  Sean stood with his towel like a cape.  I turned my back to get a diaper in the bedroom.

Then I heard the unmistakable sound of water hitting plastic.

Sean must have found one of The Husband’s water bottles and is dumping it out.  I turned to scold. 

Only Sean didn’t have a water bottle.

He was peeing, on accident, into a snack bowl someone had left in the middle of the floor.  The pee was perfectly filling the bowl.  I stood in shock, not wanting to say anything in case Sean moved, making more of a mess.  When he was done, I ran out of the room to get paper towels.

Me: Sean!  You peed! 

Sean: I sorry!

Me: No, it was an accident.  We just need to get you to the potty.

Sean: I sorry!

I hugged and kiss Sean.

Me: It’s ok, Seanny.  It was an accident.  Next time we’ll get to the potty.

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Breaking Penis Rule #2

Yesterday we went swimming as usual when it gets to be 106.  (Ok, usually it’s 101, but it’s still crazy hot.)  After we got out, the boys ran around air-drying themselves.  I took off Sean’s swimsuit because he has a habit of peeing right after he gets out of the pool.

Evan came over to inspect Sean’s penis.  He reached out a messed with it.  This was much more disturbing to my baby brother than for me.

Uncle M: Evan!  Stop playing with your brother’s penis!

Thanks, M.  I think the neighborhood heard you.

Evan: But Uncle M, I like playing with it!

Just the excuse we needed to hear.  I intervened before my brother could throw his two cents in about this turn of events.  Is that the sound of Papi trying not to laugh?

Me: Evan, Penis Rule #2 states we do NOT play with other people’s penises.  Next time you’ll be going into time out.

 

 

The Penis Rules

  1. You can only play with your penis when you are alone in your room.
  2. You are not allowed to play with someone else’s penis.
  3. You must have pants on to go out front.
  4. When in public, including the front yard, you may not take your penis out to show any one.

Everything else is blue . . .

We’ve learned to strip Sean of his swimsuit immediately after he swims.  Or else he walks over to the grass and pees in his swim trunks.   Sean stood on the pool decking, naked, shivering in the wind, waiting for Uncle M to climb out of the pool after he fetched all the diving toys the boys let drop in the deep end.  My brother looked at Sean and then at me.

Uncle M: Hey, Fae! I can tell when Sean’s cold.

Me: From his shivering?

Uncle M: No.

Me: From the bright blue color of the scar on his lip.

Uncle M: Nope.  His penis is totally blue.

Me: What?!

Who doesn’t rush over to see a blue penis?

Papi: Well, we now know he’s pick up line in college.  Girls, have you ever seen a blue penis?

Me: (groan)

Papi: Or.  Some guys get blue balls, but I get a blue penis.

Me: (roll of eyes and groan) You know this is going to go in the blog.

Papi: Or. Gu-

Uncle M: Evan! No!  We don’t touch people’s penises.

Evan: But I want to see it!

Me: Evan, we don’t touch some one else’s penis.  Even if we want to look at it.  Here, Seanny.  (I wrapped Sean in a towel and carried him in the house.)

Papi: Ok, how about this one? –

I slammed the back door shut.

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Learning Bathroom Etiquette

Last week as I set out a breakfast of pancakes for the boys, I called for Evan and Sean to come get breakfast.

Evan: (from the master bedroom) In a minute, Mommy!  I need to watch Daddy pee first!

Lucky Daddy.

 

Then the other day we were hanging out with my baby brother.  Like the great uncle he is, my baby brother played with the boys, wrestling, sword fighting, tickling, playing cars.  Finally my brother had to excuse himself to use the restroom.  Knowing Evan and being modest, my brother locked the bathroom door.  Evan walked right in to the door, and then he started knocking to get in.  My brother only knocked back.  Evan gave up.

Evan: Mommy, why did Uncle M lock the door?

Me: Because he’s going potty and he doesn’t want you in there.

Evan: Uncle M doesn’t want me to see his penis.

Me: (thinking for a second) Yes.

Evan: Daddy doesn’t mind me seeing his penis.

Me: That’s because Daddy is teaching you to pee.

Evan: Why is he doing that?

Me: Because one day you’re going to pee standing up.

Evan: Why?

Me: Because that’s what big boys and men do.

Evan: Why?

Me: Because it’s easier.

Evan: Why? – Oh, Uncle M!  Let’s play ball!

Saved by my baby brother.

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Lessons in pool use

Due to the city’s gushingly bleeding heart, thinking that increasing the two dollar fee for two weeks of swim lessons would break the poor’s back and therefore only had a handful of swim classes available, I didn’t get my boys into swim lessons yet this summer.  Yes, I’m a little bitter.  If you want, I’ll pull up a soap box to discuss why the city could raise it to five or ten dollars to hire more instructors and allow more kids the opportunity to learn to swim.  But that’s not why I’m writing this post.

As I bemoaned the fact of no swimming lessons for my boys this year to an older cousin, she asked why I didn’t teach them.  “I mean, Fae, weren’t you a swimmer in high school.  Weren’t you a lifeguard?”  Yes.  No, that was T, but I could see how you can assume that.  (Wasn’t this the year I was supposed to get my butt certified as a lifeguard for safety reasons?  Crap, where’s that To-Do list?)  Hmmm.  Teach my boys to swim.  I wonder if it’ll be like teaching Evan to write.  Insert mental day dream here: A skinny, wet three year old running from his mommy screaming “No, no, no, stay away from me. Grandma, help me!”  But that’s not why I’m writing this post.

So three weeks ago, I started taking the boys to my parents’ house earlier than normal to go swimming for an hour or so.  I researched online about how to teach your kid to swim.  Never has the chlorine betrayed me so much to damage my hair.  But that’s not why I’m writing.

Three weeks ago, I took the boys swimming with my brother M.  After we finished “swimming,” my brother mentioned he wanted to take us out for lunch.  I began to gather up my wet flock. 

Me: Evan, come on.  You need to get dressed and go potty before we leave for Taco Bell.

Evan: I don’t have to go potty, Mommy!

Me: Evan.  You drank tons of juice.  I just want you to try.

Uncle M: Evan, tell your mommy you went pee in the pool like all guys.

Evan started giggling like a lunatic.

Me: (shooting my brother a dirty look) Evan, did you go pee in the pool?

Evan: I DID!  I WENT PEE IN THE POOL!

Me: We don’t pee in the pool.  We get out, go to the potty, and come back to swim more.  Understand?

Uncle M: Fae, it’s what kids do.  Don’t you remember peeing in the pool during swim lessons?

Me: No!  That’s disgusting.

Evan: That’s disgusting! (returned to giggling like a lunatic)

Me: Thanks, M. Thanks a lot.

So what happened earlier shouldn’t have surprised us as much as it did.

My dad was helping me teach the boys to swim, which is now the new hobby.  For some reason, Evan trusts his Papi more than me.  Maybe it’s because Papi has less reason to drown Evan than I do, but that’s just nonsense.  My dad would force me to dive from his shoulders as he stood on the diving board.  My dad’s six foot one, and I’m terrified of heights.  The SOB would grab me as I tried to dash into the safety of the house.  I would never make my kid do something that scared the crap out of him just for fun.

Evan danced over to my dad who was sitting on the steps helping Sean kick, kick, kick.  Evan giggled like a lunatic as he hung on to my dad.  What tipped us off the giggling or the random hugging?  Well, it was both, and it still took us a few minutes.

Papi: Evan!  Are you peeing on me?

Evan: (giggling like a lunatic) YES!

Papi: Ugh!  Get off me! 

Then my dad playfully threw Evan near me.  I pulled Evan up, holding him away from my body.

Me: Evan.  We don’t pee in the pool.  We don’t pee on people.

Evan giggled like a lunatic.

Being a lunatic myself, I believed that was enough discipline.

Until yesterday.

Evan was kicking around the pull in his ring, when he all of a sudden started kicking my way, giggling like a lunatic.

Evan: Mommy!  I’m going to pee on you!

Being the intelligent mommy I am, I answered: You’ll have to catch me!

Thus I tired him out by swimming away from him, forcing him to kick on his stomach, reaching with his hands to grab me as I paddled away, barely out of reach.

I have a feeling Evan will be giggling like a lunatic later today.

Oh, and Sean.  He waits until he’s out of the pool and then lets it go.

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The Why Phase

I was so excited about the Why Phase.  Honestly, how much fun would that be?  I’m a fountain of useless knowledge.  I love learning useless knowledge.  I love learning period.  In high school drama, the award I was given was The Most Likely To Know Everything (Or She’ll Find it Out).  In college, I had a roommate that loved to torture me with random years, asking me what happened in that year.  I would go ballistic racking my brain, pulling out facts, until I turned on the computer and listed rulers, wars, and all kinds of facts. 

Every parenting book talked about how important the Why Phase was, how it was a sign of intelligence and inquisitiveness.  I worried as Evan out grew the months it was suppose to be in.  I wondered if my son actually cared to learn about the world around him.  I wondered if I was raising a day laborer, fast food restaurant cashier or a politician.  I waited and prepared.  I was well prepared for questions like:

Why’s the sky blue?

Why’s the grass green?

Why’s that an “E”?

Why is Papi bald?

Why do we go to church?

Why does Daddy make Daddy noise when he sleeps?

When the Why Phase started, did I get any of those questions?  No.  I got questions like these:

Why do I have to go to bed?

Why am I tired?

Why are you tired?

Why am I whiney?

Why is my bed so high?

Why did you do that?

Why can’t I have candy in my bed?

Why am I hungry for candy right now?

Why can’t I have juice?

Why will it leak?

Why do I have to have water?

Why is Seanny trying to sleep?

Why can’t I sleep in Seanny’s bed?

Why will he wake up?

Why can’t I sleep with you?

Why do I have to sleep in my own bed?

Why do I have to go to bed?

Why can’t I stay up?

Why am I tired?

Why do I have to put my underwear on?

Yeah, it’s not cute and inquisitive.  It’s not a sign that my kid is smart, trying to figure out the logic of the world.  It’s not a sign of intelligence.  It’s a sign of hidden rebellion.  It’s a sign of anarchy.  It’s a sign that my kid wants the rules to bend to his understanding.  He’s trying to be subversive.  He’s trying to break down the penis rules through his interpretation of logic.

Why do I have to wipe my bottom?

Why will I get diaper rash?

Why will it hurt?

Why do I have to wear underwear?

Why can’t I go naked?

Why do I have to wear clothes in the car?

Why do I have to wear clothes at Grandma’s and Papi’s house?

Why can’t I play with my penis here?

Why can’t I play with my penis in your room?

Does Daddy play with his penis in your room?

Why are you quiet?

Why didn’t you say anything?

Mommy!  Did you hear me?

Why do I have to put my underwear on?

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The Rocket Man

Yesterday we went to a 50’s diner, and on the way out, my dad put the boys in a coin-operator rocket, circa God only knows.  As the rocket bounced around like a mechanical bull, I watched the boys, wondering if the fries, chicken nuggets, and chocolate milk shake were about to make a reappearance.  Evan looked especially sick as he was already running a mild fever. 

When the boys were hauled out, poor Evan held his crotch.  My mother looked at him with concern.

Grandma: Evan, sweetheart, are you ok?

Evan: Grandma, it hurts!

Grandma: Where?

Evan: Here.  (He pointed to his crotch.)

Papi: Want to ride again?

Grandma: I think he hurt his testes.

Evan: I hurt my testes, Papi!  Let’s ride again!

At this time, I was doubled over in laughter to my mother’s disgust as she shot me dirty looks over Evan’s head.  I got control of myself, straightened up, and wiped the tears out of my eyes.

Me: Evan, love, we’ll come back it do it another time.

 

***

 

This morning.  My BFF (How cool does that sound?  And a million teenagers roll their eyes.) had taken pictures of the rocket ride and was showing Evan the pictures on her camera.

Evan: And there’s the yellow rocket where I hurt my testes!

 

Nod if you think Evan will say that every time we visit that diner.

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Confusing Biology

As I sat peeing, Evan came in to see me.

Evan: Oh, I have to pee too!

Evan sat on his potty and started peeing.

Evan: Mommy, are you peeing from your bottom?

I see that our biology is a little weak.  But do I want to explain what a urethra is?  Should I keep it simple, allowing for years of misinformation and misunderstanding of the female body.  Forgive me, future biology teachers, I’ll correct it my mistake before he comes to you.

Me: No.  Girls have a vagina.  That’s where they pee.

Evan: Oh.  Mommy, where is your gina?

Me: (standing up and pulling my underwear and pants on.  I point to my crotch.)  Here.

Evan: Can I see your gina?

Excuse me?  You can see one in sex ed when you’re older.  You’re can see a real one when you’re in college and in love.

Me: No.  It’s private.

A few hours later, I was washing some dishes, when I heard my husband peeing with the door open.  Evan heard him too and joined him.

Evan: Daddy, do you have a gina?

My husband: No!

Ok, we’re still having issues with human biology.

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Paying Respects

Not too long ago, I thought I would never get Evan potty-trained.  But now he goes, pulls up his pants, washes his hands, and returns to whatever he was doing without telling me.  Sometimes I’ll walk in to the bathroom and notice the urine, wondering how long that was sitting in the potty, while the plastic soaked up the scent.  Recently he has been caught trying to dump the urine on his own without any help what so ever.  That’s not a good thing.

Since pooping is so new to us, Evan runs to tell me he’s done it as soon as his done.  We do our little victory dance.  We run back to the bathroom so that I can inspect and dumb the poop.  As Evan washes his hands, I plop the poop into the toilet. 

Evan insists he has to flush the toilet.  He puts his left hand on the lever.  He waves goodbye to his poop with his right.  He says, “Goodbye, poop!  Go be with your family!”  Then he flushes.

If all the poop comes from the same place, then they must be family.  If all the poop goes to the same place, it must be a family reunion.  Right?

 

 

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Shake it, baby, shake it.

We went to story time at our local library today.  They did all kinds of songs and games between stories to keep the kids enthused and aware.  One of those games was with a bean bag, which all the kids got one to do the game and sing the song.  Later when we were home, Evan found some rattles and handed me one to play the bean bag game, but he called it baggy game.

 

Evan: Shake it by your head!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Now shake it by your toes!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Now shake it by your elbow!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by your wrist!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by your shoulder!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Now shake it by your knee!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it . . . by . . . the chair!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by the car!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by Seanny!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it at the green chair!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by the toys!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by the baby dragon!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by the faery!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by the blue chair!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by your head!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by your back!

 

I shake.

 

Evan: Shake it by your belly!

 

I shake,

 

Evan: Now shake it by your penis!

 

I’m laughing rolling on the floor trying to shake the rattle.

 

Evan: (giving me that tilted-like-a-dog-confused-by-a-human look) Mommy, you don’t have a penis.  You have a ‘gina!  Shake it by your ‘gina!

 

I laugh harder, but I am pleased that after two dozen discussions over what girls have and what boys have, it finally sunk in.

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