This does not bode well for the future

C'mon Connor, don't be a woose, we won't get caught.

I dunno know Liam, I can't read it, but the sign has red on it. Red means stop.

Honesty

"Connor. Come here. What's going on in the living room?"

"Liam threw something at me."

"Uh huh. And what were you doing with your legs?"

"I was trying to kick him but it didn't work."

Blood, tears, and Ikea

It was an exciting day for Liam yesterday, full of highs and lows, good and bad, the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. This picture was taken when we finally found him after he'd been told he needed a hair cut. For some strange reason he was not excited about this.

The original idea had been just to trim a little above his ears. Didn't think it would be a big issue since the last time Bern had done it he didn't fight it. No crying. Might have had something to do with seeing Connor's hair being cut first the last time without him crying. This time Connor escaped the cut. Anyway, Daddy got handed the scissors after Liam buried his face in Mommy's neck. I hate scissors. Cutting the hair of small feral animals scares the hell out of me. Too much thrashing. Too many eyes, ears, noses, too much innocent skin. And true to my fears, I cut him just above his right ear. I cut him. I MADE BLOOD COME OUT OF MY CHILD! Sure it hurt him, but it's 8:30 in the morning and I already need alcohol and therapy.

Now since I'd already made him look like a circus freak before cutting him (I MADE BLOOD COME OUT OF MY CHILD!) and scissors were no longer an option, it was out with the razor. Wheee! The scary noisy razor. By this point Liam is begging to get in the shower, which he hates since it means a hair wash, just to put an end to the torture. Sorry, buddy, that's the next part of our floor show. The shaving took about 3 to 4 hours, give or take. Turns out his head really wasn't the size of a beach ball, he just had a LOT of hair.

Then it was off to Ikea.


Spinning in Ikea from Zoo Keeper on Vimeo.
Ikea is a magical place. Ikea is Swedish for yogurt cones! It's also a place where your 2 and 4 year olds can loose their freakin minds. It's like a giant version of every house, including your own, where you've been told not to run around in. Around every corner is a new living room or kitchen. Hundreds of beds to jump on.

Sofas and arm chairs. Kitchens full of drawers and cupboard doors to bang. Heaven. I say to hell with the little ball cage thingy you can leave the kids playing in while you shop, let the adults sit in there and add a bar. Give the kids free run of the entire store. After an hour or so you go find them curled up on a sectional or the bin full of sheep skin rugs and off you go, everybody's happy.


Giant bunk bed? Absolutely not.

Pride and Gut Wrenching Terror, All in One Instant

Took Connor and Liam to the airport this afternoon. They love watching the planes come in. We drive through the airport all week coming and going to the Grandparents/Daycare and it's always the same question/demand. "Can we watch the plane's land?" or "No, Daddy! You took the wrong turn!" Anyway, I haven't taken them for awhile because of the hot weather so the last few days the boys have been benefiting from Daddy's guilt.

It starts out very well. We get the primo parking spot directly in the flight path so the planes come in right over the van. There's the van, the fence, then the big lights that show the planes where the centre of the runway is. Then the first plane to land is a gigantic Korean Air Lines 747. The kids were mortally terrified and ecstatic at the same time.

I had the door open to let a bit of a breeze in and got tired of listening to the key-in-the-ignition warning so I took them out and put them on the dash. Connor picked them up shook them a few times and then went back to changing all the settings on the radio, heater and everything else he could touch. Liam picks them up right away and starts trying to stick them back in the ignition. I'm thinking this is very cute and ask him if he's going to drive us back home. "Yesh!" And then he's back to the job at hand. Then he manages to get them in. Wow! My child is obviously gifted. What manual dexterity for a two year old. Then he flips it over so the radio and dash lights come on. Somewhat alarmed, but still impressed. He turns it back off and then gives me his usual wicked grin. And then, you've already guessed it, he starts the engine.

Now what? He's two and he's just figured out how to start a car. Granted he can't reach the brake pedal and take it out of park, but still... he's going to grow. Sigh. This is why hair turns gray. On the other hand, my child is freakin' brilliant.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens...

...bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens... Today was Liam's first real thunder and lightning storm and as you can see, he was not impressed. He did not buy our explanation that the clouds were arguing over who could make the most rain and he was not impressed with Dad's explanation of hot and cold air masses. The only thing that seemed to make him feel better was hiding out underneath the kitchen table.

Eventually he agreed to move up to the safety of Mom and Dad's bed which was much more comfortable.

It was an exciting weekend for the boys. Nana came to visit and brought cool toys with her. As usual, since Nana was here they both acted like perfect little angels. I'm sure I saw both of them give me a wink at one point, just to let me know that they knew that I knew that it was all back to normal the minute Nana got in her car. And, of course, they delivered. But not until after we brought them to Toy's R Us so we could buy Connor a bicycle with the money Auntie Dizzy gave him for his birthday and to spend the gift cards that Grampa Gordo and Grama Lynn gave them for Christmas. Yes it's been six months since Christmas, but it's not like they know any different. Anyway, they each picked out two presents each which they have been fighting over ever since. And since they still have over half the value of the gift card left, we can do it all over again. Weeee!

Madre de Dios!

Sure it's all smiles and giggles in this shot, but what the image doesn't show you are the tracks of fat alligator tears down Liam's face. The snot on Mommy's sleeve because we didn't have any kleenex. How is it that shopping for a new pair of shoes is more traumatic than getting a needle at the doctor's office? What's the deal with that? The wailing and ululations could be heard across the mall. Probably from the parking lot. And why? Because Daddy changed Liam's pair of size 6 and a half shoes to size six to see how they fit. Not to a different pair of shoes or anything, but the exact same shoe. You'd have thought I'd taken his stuffed frog away and lit it on fire in front of him. He got his 6 1/2's back. Couldn't put him down to put them back on because of the emotional stress we'd put him through so he had to clutch them to his chest instead. Then it all started up again when the sales girl had to take them away to ring them in and remove the security tag. His attachment to these shoes is so deep he insisted on napping with them. He's the gift that keeps on giving.

Waiting for poo...

It's 10:13am on a holiday Monday, Mommy is in bed sleeping off her night shift and Daddy and the boys are going to the mall. After they've pooed. Because I know it's coming. Nothing happened yesterday and I don't want to be taking them out of their car seats once we've arrived and be gifted with that. I've got some Activa in the fridge, how fast does that stuff work?

We need to get out of the house. Bern needs some quiet so she can get some sleep. It rained all of yesterday and the boys were getting a little stir crazy. We bundled them up and took them for a walk last night so they could get rid of some of that pent up energy and jump in some puddles. Hmm... wonder how many images I can have in here? Let's see.