Foot Fetishes and Other Kid Happenings

Pie is obsessed with socks in general and a pair of hand-me-down socks that have a cat on each one over the toes in particular. "Kitty cat! Kitty cat! Meow! Meow!" The socks, dirty after a day of play, come off for bath. In her pretty clean pajamas, she demands, "Socks! Socks! Kitty cats!" and goes rifling through the dirty laundry I've just removed from her, querying, "Where'd it go? Where'd it go?" till she finds said socks and demands I put them on her feet. Then she plays, periodically stopping to lift her toes and admire her kitty cats. Unfortunately, the socks are already too small, so we better find another pair of kitty cat socks, and fast!

While washing his hands at his friend's house after using the bathroom, Doodles tried to look into the mirror, but even on the stepstool, he was too short. "Mommy," he complained. "The mirror isn't repeating me!"

I'm pretty sure my daughter is a German. She refuses to wear her sandals without her socks on.

Pie was getting up every day at 5 a.m. I'd pick her and bring her into Doodles's bed (since he was in our bed anyway). She'd demand, "Blankets!" so after covering her with his blankets, I'd nurse her. When she was done, she'd slide out of bed and waddle into our room to wake Adam up with a string of babble, indicating that she was ready to be taken downstairs and entertained. These days, though, I've been able to put her back in her crib after her Ming Ming, and she'll go back to sleep for anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours. However, some days she doesn't want to go down, and I've finally figured out the key. If, after nursing, she makes random small talk (like today--Doodles came into our room without Boy Bear, which was still in his bed. She picked up Boy Bear and asked, "Where's Brother?" I said, "Doodles is still sleeping." She said, "Oh, Brother sleeping."), then I can safely put her back to bed and she'll sleep. If, however, she demands her socks, then she's up for the day. I have to say, breaking this code has really made life a whole lot easier.

Sometimes I ask Adam what we should have for dinner. "I don't know," is his invariable reply. "Well, what do you feel like?" I'll ask him.
A: I'm not in the mood for anything.
Me: You have to be in the mood for something.
A: I dunno.
Me: Okay, close your eyes and go like this [I make a tasting motion with my mouth]. What do you taste?
This always makes Adam crazy as he claims this doesn't work, whereas I swear by it.
The other day, Doodles said to me: "Do we have anymore plain matzah?"
Me: Yes, we do.
Doodles: I want matzah! Plain matzah! My tongue is telling me it wants to taste plain matzah!
Definitely my son!

I feel like our house is becoming somewhat of a fortress these days, battened down to protect us from invading armies. Unfortunately, the invading armies happen to live within this fortress, making our house somewhat of a war zone. Take for instance, Medros the Younger. If the bathroom door isn't closed, she's standing high upon the step stool, filling the sink with hot water from which she likes to bath, brush her teeth, and generally make a big mess. Which isn't as bad as finding her with her arm in the toilet. Then there's Medros the Older, who knows he isn't allowed outside by himself, yet constantly claims to want to just "take a peek" outside, which means exiting the premises. With this bout of warm weather we finally have, I've been leaving the front door open, however, I have to make sure the lock is on the patio door or else my child will be halfway down the block. Of course, there's also Medros the Elder. From him the remote needs to be hidden. I can be watching any show, leave the room for exactly 3.4 seconds to grab a drink in the next room and by the time I've returned, the Red Sox are on. Happens all the time! I had no idea that the Red Sox were now playing 24-hours a day but that's what it seems to be.

Speaking of Red Sox, Adam went to the game last night (even after a conversation with Doodles in which I said, "Is it okay if Daddy goes to the game?" and he slowly shook his head and said, "Noooo.... Not without me!"). Doodles goes to bed every night at 7. Pie at 7:30. Our evenings are pretty regimented: 5 p.m. bath; 5:45 show while I make dinner; 6:15 p.m. dinner; 6:40 brushing teeth and potty; 6:45 stories; 7 first one to bed; 7:05 Ming Ming; 7:15 teeth brushing; 7:20 stories; 7:30 second child to bed. Pretty much the routine every single night, day in, day out. So Adam is out. Having a good time. Company meeting, at the Museum of Science no less. Then a baseball game. It's a beautiful night. And he decides to call and check in. So, of course, he called at 4:45 just before we started our routine. Oh, wait, he didn't do that. He called at 7:45 just after the last monkey was put to bed. No, no. That's not right either. Oh, yeah. He called at 6:50 p.m. Right in the middle of child wig out/getting ready for bedtime. And then asks me, "What do you sound so tense and annoyed?" Um, HELLO? I had a day that involved two trips to playgrounds, one music class, one screaming fit over the reapplication of sunscreen, one pizza dinner out in which Doodles decided he needed to use the potty right when Pie had maximum pasta mess on her and was not about to leave the table in the middle of her meal for her brother, four temper tantrums (three of them from the kids), six books read seven times, and I am a mere 40 minutes away from freedom if I can just keep either kid from losing it again and he wants to know why I sound annoyed? Can one of your people please explain it to him because I'm going to go have a martini.