Smurf My Life

Last night at dinner, I remembered a promise I had made to Doodle last weekend.

"We still going tomorrow?" I asked him, and as the words were leaving my mouth, I turned to my husband and said, "Why did I just do that? Why am I doing this to myself?" I mean, maybe Doodle had forgotten what we had talked about doing on Friday night.

But it was too late. I had to follow through. "We still going to see the Smurfs movie?"

And thus, my fate was sealed.

Scribbleisms

I honestly can’t remember what Doodle was like when he was 2. I’m sure he was adorable, and his control freak behavior was probably just peeking its carefully-combed little head out of the surface. So, rather than let Scribble’s precious moments (not the dolls – eek!) slip away, I am using this blog space to take note of some especially cute ones of late:

At Scribble’s day care, every Wednesday the 2-year-olds get to have “Splash Day” and must come to day care in their swim suits and water shoes. I bought him the cutest little flip flops at Target that have little fishies and sharkies on them. Did I just say “sharkies”? Yes, yes I did.

Previous to this, Scribble has worn flip flops or any kind of sandal exactly zero times. And the putting on of shoes does not rank high on his favored activities list (but the taking off of shoes sooooooooo does.) So that first Wednesday morning, I began in earnest to try and get the kids out the door on time, as I always do, and always fail miserably at doing. When I tried to put Scribble’s toes into the flip flops, which involves separating the big toe from the other four, Scribble put up quite a fight. “I don’t want it the fwop fwops!” he said repeatedly, his legs flailing and showing unprecedented strength and avoidance tactics. Finally, I prevailed and the fwop fwops stayed on for approximately enough time to get him strapped into his car seat. We probably didn’t make it out of the driveway before the first one went. At least, when I got to day care, he was contained in the car seat and I was able to replace the wayward fwop fwops without incident. Since then, “I don’t want it the ______” has become a handy catch phrase in my house.

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Doodle knows 2 or 3 knock knock jokes that he can tell without ruining the punchline. Example would be the classic “boo who” or the “orange you glad I didn’t say banana?” Telling of these knock-knock jokes is standard fare at the dinner table when conversation has lapsed. Not to be outdone, Scribble added one with his own flair last night:

Scribble: Na-knock.

Us: Who’s there?

Scribble: *starts laughing* Uh …. A BUG!

Us: *raucous laughter and overacting*

Repeat the previous about 10 times. Sometimes he couldn’t wait for us to ask “who’s there” before he delivered the funny.