Stories

Sometimes I worry about how the boys will feel about the blog. How will they feel about embarrassing stories of their toddlerhood. How will they feel about the private becoming public. How will they feel about The Penis Rules section.

We were sitting down for dinner when Tornado A asked for a baby story about Tornado E. I told one, and they all laughed. Then he asked for one about Tornado S. I told one, and they all laugh. Then he asked for one about him. I told one, and they all laughed.

Then Tornado S asked for one about him. And I told one, and they laughed. So Tornado E asked me a story about him, and I told one. They laughed. Then Tornado A asked for a story about him. I told one, and they all laugh.

I must have told a dozen or more stories with promises of more. So, my little tornadoes, your memories are saved online for you and all the world to read when they want.

 

Good luck with that.

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In the classroom

I spent yesterday afternoon, helping out at Tornado E’s class.  I try to volunteer one day out of the month.  I wanted to do more, but I was afraid I would take too much time from other mom’s volunteering.  I’m starting to think I’m the only one who does go in as I mentioned it to a few of the stay-at-home moms after school.  When I suggested they take a day just because it was fun, they looked at me like I had grown a third eye.  I guess our alone time is precious.  I know it is for me.

I chose yesterday because it was the only day of class this week, because they had a speaker coming in, and because it was supposed to rain all week.  Before the boys, I worked as a teacher’s assistant for a kindergarten and a first grade class and as a Girl Scout troop organizer.  When there’s a schedule deviation or if those kids couldn’t go out every single day to play, hell was likely to break loose within the class room.

I would like to regale you all with tales of humorous acts and speeches, but most of the kids were shy and quiet.  There was only one kid in the class willing to make a fool of himself by saying crazy things, doing crazy things.  My son.

Not only did he dance his way back into the classroom after the presentation, making one of the teachers laugh, he was the one to spout off hilarious things.

As we sat around the table for snack time, the kids were eager to tell the teacher what they did over the weekend. Tornado E didn’t want to be left out of the conversation, even though he felt we did nothing exciting.  He pulled my sleeve.

Tornado E: Mommy, lean over.  I have a secret to tell you.

I leaned over.

Tornado E: (whispering) I’m going to pretend we went to the toy store, ok?

Me: Ok.

Tornado E: (to the teacher) We went to the toy store!

Teacher: Oh?

Tornado E: Yup.  And we saw Toy Story toys.

Teacher: Which one is your favorite?

Tornado E: Buzz Lightyear!

All right.

Later as the teacher was reading a story, she asked the students what kinds of houses they lived in, giving examples of brick, steel, stuck-o.

Tornado E: I live in a gingerbread house!

The teacher looked over at me.  I smiled.

Me: It’s always nice to live in Tornado E’s world.

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A Few Choice Tornado E Stories

Tornado E is no longer concerned with the day I lost my keys down the toilet. Here are his NEW favorite stories.

Tornado E: Remember when we were swimming with Papi. And Papi yelled “Bee on you! Bee on you! Bee on you!” And Grandma jumped in the water. Why did she do that?

Me: Because she didn’t want to get stung. She didn’t know where the bee was.

Tornado E: Oh.

Tornado E: Remember when we were at the McDonald’s without the slide. And Papi took me to go potty. And I went pee. And Papi said, “Boy, you pee a lot.” Why did he say that?

Me: Because you do pee a lot.

Tornado E: No, I think he was teasing.

Tornado E: Remember when I threw up on Daddy the other day. It was a lot of throw up. It got all over us. And Daddy was yelling, “Mommy! Mommy!” (Pause, reflecting on the name Daddy actually used.) “Faemom! Faemom! Faemom!” He was funny. Why’d he say that?

Me: Because that’s my name and Daddy needed help.

Tornado E: No. You’re Mommy.

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Cactus and Horses

One day you should ask Evan to tell you about horses or cactus.  But since you probably will never have the privilege I’ll tell you what he’ll say.

 

 

Evan: First we go to the store and buy carrots for the horses!  Then we give the carrots to the horses!  They’re big!  There’s cactus!  We don’t touch cactus!  It’s owie!  Then Papi put glue on my hand!

 

 

You might not understand that.  So I’ll translate.

 

 

First we go to the store and buy carrots!  Well, my little brother wanted to take Evan to a friend’s house who owns horses.  Being my little brother and a natural mooch, my brother naturally assumed my mom would have carrots.  She didn’t, so my brother took Evan to the store to buy carrots. 

 

Then we give the carrots to the horses! Pretty self explanatory really.

 

They’re big! Stand next to a horse.  Now imagine you’re three feet tall.  Yeah.  Horses are HUGE.  They look like they could step on you and not care.

 

There’s cactus!  We don’t touch cactus!  It’s owie!  Every kid growing up in the desert has a healthy respect for cactus due to the certain of scientific investigations.  As an adult, you try to stop these investigations.  My brother was not paying attention, and Evan actually got his hands on a teddy bear cactus.  They look soft, but those buggers are tiny spines that hurt like a bitch.  They are also tiny needles and hard to remove, especially from a two year old’s hand.

 

Then Papi put glue on my hand!  My brother did the best he could to pull out the spines and casually mentioned the incident when they got back from their adventure.  I looked at my baby’s hand when he started to cry because he couldn’t touch his sandwich.  His hand was covered with red dots where the tiny needles were STILL imbedded.  My dad and I looked at each other, and my dad pulled out the glue and poured it on Evan’s hands, who FREAKED out.  I put glue on my hands to show Evan that everything was ok.  As he sniffled and the glue dried, we watched cartoons until the glue was dry enough to pull off with the needles.

 

 

Amazingly this happened nine months ago, and Evan STILL talks about it when ever any one mentions horses or cactus or we’re at the store and he sees carrots.  He even once woke from a dream to give me his hoses and cactus speech.  We can all agree my brother left an impression.

 

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It’s like someone else’s room . . .

So my in-laws came in town yesterday, and I was putting the finishing touches on the guest room.  You know like actually dusting and opening the windows so it wasn’t so stuffy.  When all of a sudden Evan said something most interesting.

Evan: This looks like someone else’s house.  It’s like someone else’s room.  It’s like Grandma’s room.  Then we went to the hospital, and then we went upstairs.  We got a baby.

Me: You remember going with Grandma to the hospital?

Evan: Yes, we went to the hospital, and we went upstairs.  We changed the baby.

Could he actually remember when Sean was born sixteen months ago, when Evan was only 22 months?  Amazingly, it seemed he did.  When my mom came the day of Sean’s birth to visit for three weeks to help me out, she went and picked up Evan and brought him to the second floor to meet his new little brother.  Wow!

On a side note I remember Evan’s look when we buckled Sean into the carseat next to Evan.  “What the hell?  It’s coming with us?”