Sexy Mouse in the Hole

I had a friend who had a big orange cat. In their kitchen there was a hole. One day, a mouse popped out of the hole like a Kitty Vending Machine.

Everyday for the next two years, that cat sat in front of the hole waiting for another mouse to come out. The owners felt so sad for the cat, they resorted to buying pet store mice to shove in the hole.

Over a month ago, there was a massive orange excavator ripping out trees at the end of our road. We took Baby Boy to see this and every morning since, at 6:30 am, he calls out, not for Mama or Dada, but "Truck! Orange! Truck! Trees!"

I walk him down there everyday to show him the truck isn't there...but today it was, like another mouse popping from the hole. His scream of ecstacy had neighbors running into their yard in a panic--there really isn't a better way to get to know your neighbors than having a toddler obsessed with machinery in their yard.

On the adult end of happy days: I went into my favorite bakery today and not only did I get a chocolate-seasalt cookie right out of the oven, but a customer was in there with two Maine coon kittens. If that doesn't make you smile, then you are a sourpuss.

Sexy Mother's Day

AH. Mother's Day--the one day when we get breakfast in bed and a free pass t0 not cook, clean or brush our teeth (although when Monday comes and we have to clean everything up, we wonder if it was worth it).

Darling Husband and Uncle Andoo took my whole family out to a lovely brunch. About 8-minutes in, Baby Boy wanted no part of the seersucker pants and tiny muffins. Realizing it was my turn to let him run around (even though I was in heel and a short dress), I walked him outside (keep in mind it was in the 40's with gale force winds--ask me how my hair looked).

In the courtyard was a gaggle of dolled-up moms with fussing toddlers. They glared at their coffee-sipping husbands through the window: one was on his Blackberry, one was flirting with the cute waitress and one was actually filling out his wife's Mother's Day card.

The wind picked up and blew bits of sand and gravel into our eyes. We looked like the "before"

mom in the Suave commercial.

"It always seems like a good idea," I sigh pointing to the children who were now dirty, hungry for something not smothered in Hollandaise and flipping over potted plants.

I saw in the fellow Mom's eyes that they were holding on to the last scrap of calmness in hopes that when they got home there would be diamonds, flowers or at the very least, a card that was filled out prior to leaving that morning.

HAPPY MOMMY DAY!!!

Sexy Soccer

The majority of our friends all have kids older than Baby Boy--and they all either play hockey or soccer. These two life-sucking sports turn otherwise vibrant and energetic people into travel-team Zombies. Ice time at 4am, driving 6 hours in a van for a three-day tourney--nothing is off limits for these fanatics.

Darling Husband I had the talk pre-conception that none of our kids would ever play these sports.

"Polo, fencing, tennis, golf...these are all acceptable," I jotted down.

"Or if he is small he can be a jockey," added DH as he signed the Non-Compete waiver.

Baby Boy had his Two Year Check-Up yesterday. Dr. Steve ran down the list of things BB should be doing at this age.

"Does he stack blocks? (Yes) Complete a two-step command? (Yes) Kick a ball?"

At this DH and I glanced at each other not knowing what to say. In our desire to never let BB near a kickable ball (hence he show some insane talent thereby forcing us to hire private coaches and devote our lives to following the World Cup) we had no idea if he could even attempt this skill.

As soon as we got home I put a tennis ball by BB's feet. He did kick it (about 5-inches). Enough to know he is normal but does not have David Beckham genes--which is good because I don't think I could ever be as skinny as Posh.

Sexy Back Up Baaas

My son has become attached--obessed, rather-- with this soft washcloth thing with a lamb's head (yes, the same one he smooshed in the poo last week http://sexynaptime.blogspot.com/2010/04/sexy-sht-happens.html) that he calls BA.

It occurred, to me as he screamed and cried this morning until we found BA shoved in the dishwasher, that if we ever lost BA for good, then he may never smile, sleep or eat again.

We didn't buy BA originally, so it took a lot of Googling to find Back Up BA's. Three to be exact.

The package of new BA's just came. They are so soft. So clean. So new. As I was contemplating the issue of sneakily swapping in the new BA's to the rotation so they get equal wear and tear, Baby Boy appered.

His eyes lit up and he realized BA had become quadruplets.

Now I am going to have to buy 16 BA's in the worst-case scenario that the quads get misplaced. Or we can start a reality show a la Jon and Kate: Baby Boy, Ma, Pa and BAAAAAAAA.

Sexy Birthday Observation Part 2

My son is two today. Darling Husband left me a message that he wanted me to pick him up a lacrosse set for his present. Keeping in mind the child can barely use a spoon, I don't think high-level sporting goods are the appropriate choice--but I can't tell him that. So, I said Target was all sold out.

"Must be a really popular gift for Toddlers, honey."

Then I get a call from my father saying the found the perfect gift.

"It is this Hummer-type vehicle that he can ride on. It goes over mounds of rocks and ice and even up walls!"

"Dad, what is the age recommendation on the box?"

"Box? Hell this thing can't fit in a box!"

Why is it men want little boys to act like they are all grown up and want their women to dress like we are teenagers?

Sexy Birthday Meltdown

Baby Boy turns TWO today. I have been in denial since his party is a couple weeks away, thus retarding his leap into the so -called Terribles.

I was at Whole Foods earlier today when I felt a soft pat on the back of my hair. I turned to see a 4-month old turned out in a Baby Bjorn staring up at me. We locked eyes and he immediately smiled and kicked his feet in glee.

The only time Baby Boy stares at me is when I wrap blankets over my face and pretend I am a ghost. The only time he kicks is when he is throwing himself on the floor screaming because I won't let him play with the Forbidden Kitchen for another 2 hours.

This fact that my Baby is no longer a baby hit me like ice. I burst into tears as I grasped ahold of the little boy's hand.

His mother, rightly horrified, backed away knocking over a display of wipes. I fled before she could report the crazy lady who was trying to steal her child.

Sexy Word of the Day

I love words. In my drive toward having an amazingly verbal son (who at this point only says about 10 words and they all sound the same as in "Gark!" "Yes, Buddy! That IS an orange car!") I like giving him alternate words. So, if I say "happy" I follow up with, "gleeful is another word for happy" etc.

This morning when he was brushing his teeth atop his favorite blue STOOL, for some reason I blurted out, "Stool is another word for poop."

And that got his attention.

All day long he would point to every chair, bench whatever one could sit upon and proudly yell, "POOP!"

My husband kept asking me why I thought he was doing that, but I played dumb. (Dense, dim-witted, doltish, dull, feebleminded, moronic, thick...you get the drift.)