Bleeeeaaaack. . . .

So we're sitting in McCalister's Deli and our food arrives. We were splitting a club sandwich, macaroni and cheese and a fruit salad (mainly for the MonkeyBear, he loves him some fruit). I pick up a macaroni on a fork and try to feed it to the little guy. He shakes his head "no" which is odd for him when it comes to mac and cheese. I try again, he insists "no."

Then the vomiting started. Four gushing waves of everything he'd eaten in the past 8 hours parading rapidly down his front. I run for help from behind the counter, informing a teen-aged boy that I need a box and some bags and he needs a mop because my son just wrecked the area around the table where we were sitting.

Despite the giant mess they still hadn't come out to clean up by the time we were packed up to leave. My wife said she felt bad just leaving I responded, "I can't go back and get a mop myself." We had told 3 people by this time and a couple other customers had almost stepped in it.

So we left.

After that he was fine. We fed him some crackers and water and sent him to bed. He slept for a good 3 hours and then as we were getting in bed and about to fall asleep we heard a sound. He had done it again and got it all over his head and pajamas. So we had an 11 p.m. shower and rocking session (in which he threw-up again). I made a Pedialite run and called the 24-hour nurse hotline to be safe.

So we survived our first stomach bug. . . so far. I'm really impressed by my wife's involvement in all this. She normally isn't good with bodily fluids, especially of this variety. But from the start she even picked the little guy up in the restaurant to comfort him knowing full well she's get it on her. And she's cleaned him up a few more times since. She's an amazing mother.

You still can't make a rice castle. . .

We went to a parents as teachers function tonight. It was all about the senses. They had things to look through (colored glasses and such) for sight, textured balls to touch, musical instruments to hear, containers with spices to smell, and a kiddie swimming pool filled with rice. . . for taste? I guess there wasn't a taste. It was like a sandbox, only little girls can play in it without getting sand in their hoo-has.

Anyway, the little MonkeyBear was playing with the rice with a scoop, attempting to scoop it up and dump it back in. . . he missed most of the time. Then somehow he was able to master scooping up rice, carrying the scoop to a corner of the room and dumping it in a pile.

The little girl he was playing beside liked that he was doing this. She clearly wanted to do it but she can't walk yet so she couldn't transport the rice on her own.

"Hey baby, want me to scoop some rice for you."

The girls will swoon.

It's LazyTown bitches. . .

I ran across this on Digg a few months ago, it wasn't as funny then as it is now that we've watched LazyTown for real.

Screw the children's menu. . .

Eating at a restaurant with a toddler is hard. 1) restaurant food isn't always conducive to toddlers, 2) the speed with which the food is served doesn't match a toddlers need to eat NOW, 3) when your toddler needs to get up they need to get up. . . some restaurant patrons don't enjoy a toddler walking by eyeing their food (most do, but not all). I feel like we're walking by and he's saying "you gonna eat that?"

Recently we went to one restaurant and behind us was a man who showed obvious signs of disgust when he saw he was being seated behind Skippy Jr., as if sitting behind him would cause him much trouble. In his defense, toward the end of the meal Skippy Jr. did turn around and try and touch him.

Then there's the subject of food. Mostly he gets bits of fries and bread and whatever we thought to bring along with us. Some restaurants are better than others. Places with a salad bar (like Ruby Tuesday's which is conveniently located about a mile from our house) are perfect, you can load up a plate from the salad bar with everything from fruits and veggies to ham and eggs. We also steal crackers to keep in the diaper bag from everywhere we go. Single serving to go.

Children's menus bug us. Spending money on a meal he's barely gonna touch doesn't seems right. So normally we skip that and just give him some of our food. Of course that means we need to keep him in mind when we order.

Tonight I had a stroke of genius. We were at a local Mexican place. . . and I ordered fajitas. When my dinner came out it was the usual sizzling cast iron skillet on a piece of wood, a plate of cold fixings and a container with flour tortillas. I took half a tortilla (I sliced it with my knife), filled if halfway with cheese, folded it, used my fork to pry up the cast iron skillet and placed the tortilla under it. Two minutes later I had a fully melted cheese quesadilla.

He loved it, especially dipped in sour cream. I was so proud of myself.

I'd like to buy a vowel. . .

I mentioned briefly that we leave on games shows while we're all playing before bed. My wife stole an idea from a video like this one and we decided to teach Skippy Jr. to clap when the wheel is spun. He took to it pretty quickly with one problem. . . he doesn't just clap when the wheel is spun. He claps if he sees the puzzle, the wheel, Pat Vanna—doesn't matter, if he sees any sign of the show he claps.

And we laugh, which only encourages the behavior and make him more of a little ham.

Were these the good ole days, he would have totally bought the ceramic Dalmatian.

UPDATE: My wife brought up this blog post while Skippy Jr. was eating breakfast. Just seeing the illustration of the game board he started clapping.

Mike TV. . .

Most nights, while I make dinner, my wife watches the MonkeyBear. Normally he leaves her in the living room to try and climb up me while I'm cooking to get at whatever it is that I'm making for dinner that night.

Monday night my wife was gone at her weekly master's class so it was just me and the MonkeyBear for dinner. First we spent some time wrestling and playing with his trucks. Then we started an episode of Sesame Street and sat on the couch. Once he was enjoying watching "How many hats can you wear on your head day" I slipped into the kitchen to make dinner (sneaking back to check on him).

I'm going to stop for a second and say I am not a parent to let the TV babysit while I get to do other things. But I'm also not a TV nazi, forbidding more than 30 minutes of TV a day. Normally if the TV is on Skippy Jr. is not sitting there zombiefied while I surf the internet for funny videos on youtube. Nor is the TV on adult programming for me to watch while he plays in a corner. That being said, yes, the TV is on a decent amount on the time in our house. I often try to change that by playing music instead of watching TV, but normally we leave the TV on either children's TV, news, or game shows when Skippy Jr. is in the room.

OK so he's on the couch watching "the Street" while I start making dinner in the kitchen. He sat for 5 minutes on the couch watching Elmo and crew laughing, clapping and squealing when the dreamy Abby Cadabby came on the screen.

Then I said something to him and broke the spell. He came in signing "eat" so I gave him his snack trap and he went back in, sat in the floor and watched 5 more minutes of the show while I finished making dinner. Then we sat and ate while listening to music and dancing in our chairs in the kitchen. No crying, no whining to be picked up, no burned food.

Who says TV is bad?

I poo. . .

Now I wasn't there, but this is how it was told to me.

This morning when dropping off the MonkeyBear was playing around at Grandma's and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and stood still for a moment and then said "ut-oh, I poo."

My wife swears this is true.

Do the Humpty hump. . .

Tonight we were all playing together on the floor. The favorite game was putting a blanket over mommy's head and giving her a big bear hug to knock her over (him not me). We were having such a good time. . . and then it happened.

As his mother way lying on the floor the little MonkeyBear threw the blanket over her and started to climb up and her head (it was covered by the blanket). He then began to hump her head.

I wish I were kidding.

It got to the point I had to pull him off of her because she couldn't pry him off while lying down. I know he wasn't, you know, REALLY humping her. He was playing and it was probably more jumping than humping. Still it's not something you want to see. He was like a cocker spaniel. I think I need to get a squirt bottle to shoot him if he does it again.