Blogworthy

Jonas has been on fire today.   So quotable!  So blogworthy! Such a pain in my ass!

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Started with everyone’s favorite early-morning-special… the explosive poop.  Honestly, the kid enjoys a steady diet of bananas and cheese, and it has no effect whatsoever.  He’s built up a tolerance to bananas.  Cloth diapering seems to be a thing of the past, unless things take a drastic turn (or unless he would cooperate and POOP ON THE POTTY!  Really – is that sooooooooo much to ask?  Don’t answer that.  Unless you agree with me.  Then comment away.)

I’ve got him on the changing table, and I pull one foot out of his jammies and he says “Good morning, foot!” and kisses it.  Holy cow – way to try and distract me from the horror that is your diaper.  Too bad I was dizzy from holding my breath and couldn’t really enjoy the moment.

Then I open the diaper, recoil back a bit, and he says “Oh! Love of Pete! Stinky diaper!”

You can’t make this stuff up, folks.

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Not very much later (I was still motoring through a bowl of Cheerios, so it was clearly too early to be dealing with this kind of nonsense.  ) he came up to me and said “Wash your hands?” (which, in Jonas-speak means “Mommy?  I want to wash my hands!”)  I told him not right now (I’m eating here! Go play with your cars or something!) and he started crying “Wash your hands! Wash your haaaaaands!” and I really look at him and its deja-freaking-vu all over again.  He’s shiny.  And whining that he wants to wash up.  It wasn’t Vaseline this time, it was my lovely Rose Salve (BBW) that I keep in my nightstand for late night dry cuticles (hey – it happens!)  Both hands up to the wrists, and his entire face is covered.  When I asked what he’d done, he said “A little bit of lip gloss?”  Yeah.

I put a stool in front of the sink, turn on a trickle, give him a squirt of soap, and walk away.  Because, you know, he’s proven already that he’s totally trustworthy!  Its not like he gets into trouble when left alone, right?  I can go finish my Cheerios before they turn to glop and not worry that he’s burning down the bathroom, right? Right?

20 minutes later Jaynie comes out and announces that her brother has “Put the toothbrushes down the sink!  So far down, that only Daddy can get them!”  (Turns out this is incorrect.  With size 4 knitting needles, 30 minutes, and some really creative the-kid-is-right-here-listening curse words, Mommy can get them herself.  Freaking kid.)

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He rounded out the day by threatening me on the stairs.  Yes, threatening me.  This was no “Gonna get you, Mommy!” tickle tickle game.  I was trying to intimidate him into just CLIMBING THE FREAKING STAIRS ALREADY instead of standing on each one for 30 seconds and looking around and looking back dooooooooown the stairwell and turning to give me the evil smile and acting like he’s going to step up but then NOT stepping up and laughing and all this time I’m holding two gallons of milk, two gallons of tea, random other groceries, my purse, and a portable dvd player (because one is totally not enough) and trying to get UP the stairs before my arms fall off and thinking “If only I had my hands free, I could throttle this child.”  So I nudged him in the butt with a tea bottle and said in my meanest Mommy voice “Go UP, Jonas.  Go UP THE STAIRS.” and he turned and gave me a very serious look and said, and I’m quoting here,

“Take you down, Mommy.”

(The threat “I’m going to take you down” is thrown around here quite a bit.  We used to threaten to drop kick the children, but the first time Jaynie repeated it at the park (“Jonas! You bring me back those bubbles before I DROP KICK YOU!”) we switched to something a little more… general.  Non-violent.  Usually we say “I’ll take you down to China Town.”  I have no idea what this actually means, just that if I overheard someone saying it to their children I wouldn’t necessarily rush to call child services on them. )

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After all this obnoxious behavior cuteness he did manage to redeem himself by getting excited when he saw American Idol coming on.  “SINGING SHOW! SINGING SHOW!”  Then he did a little dance around the room, complete with booty shaking, jumping, and spinning.  All the more impressive as he was fresh out of the tub and buck nekkid.

I think his favorite was that scary chick who sang  Carry On My Wayward Son.  Figures – she seems to have a little terrorist in her, too.  Birds of a feather….