Toddler Logic

While I was still teaching, the school librarian gave me a great piece of advice. She told me to get a journal and use it to record all those silly things that your child(ren) will say as they acquire language. She kept such a journal for her son. In it she would not only write what he said but also provide some context with which to enrich her memory. I guess instead of a journal I am using a blog, but the idea is the same- to write down all the silly memories of motherhood that somehow get lost among all the other moments. Pictures are great, and so is video, but the English teacher that I am favors the written word.

Which brings me to last Saturday. I decided to pick up some bagels for our breakfast. Alice is a big fan of bagels and cream cheese so it is always a winner of a breakfast. When she saw her plain bagel and cream cheese on her plate she shrieked, "Yeah, bagel and butt cheese!" John and I looked at each other with the same question in our eyes, "Butt cheese?" I feverishly started running a list of all the possibilities for this odd phrasing: Something she picked up in school? Is it because we are potty training? Does she just like the word "butt"? Nothing seemed right and then John hit on it- diaper rash ointment. Every night after he gives Alice a bath, she tells her he is going to put on her "butt cream". Both creams are white. In toddler logic, it makes perfect sense. Now I just have to make sure to keep the diaper cream in the kitchen out of her reach or we might have a culinary disaster on our hands.

Baking Lessons

To shake things up a bit, I thought I would write about a pleasant experience with Alice. I realize that while my tales from the trenches are humorous, they could act as a form of birth control. Since my goal is laughter, and not necessarily reduction of the human population, I thought it might be nice to write about one of those sweet mommyhood moments to prove that, yes, they actually do exist, and to remind me that they exist when I forget.

Wednesday morning Alice and I were invited to a play date. I hate going to someone’s home empty handed, so I decided some homemade corn bread would be just the thing to bring. Alice, much like her father, has learned the significance of certain items coming out of the pantry. This time she not only decided to hang around the kitchen but she also hopped up on her new footstool from Ikea to get a better look. The recipe I use for corn bread is simple- just toss in a handful of ingredients, stir, put into a pan and bake. It dawned on me that this would be a good introduction to baking for Alice. I put the blue Pyrex mixing bowl in front of her and handed her each measured ingredient to dump into the bowl. She would repeat the ingredient's name right after I said it. She seemed puzzled by the flour and then it hit me. She thought I meant “flower”. I explained the difference but part of me thinks she believes if you pulverize the pretty things white powder results. Mental note: make sure she does not experiment in other people’s gardens. After the ingredients were together in the bowl, I took out two wooden spoons and we mixed everything together. Alice declared the raw batter “delicious” and I poured it into the baking pan and put it into the oven. She was very excited 20 minutes later when I took the pan from the oven and she saw the transformation from yellow runny stuff to yellow cake stuff before her eyes. It was a fun lesson for both of us. However, I don’t yet have the nerves to tackle a soufflé with her quite yet.

My living room is here somewhere…

Let me start off by saying I am not a neat freak, although current nesting practices/freak outs might call that statement into question. For a while I think my husband John worried about staying in one place for too long for fear I would clean him with bleach, find a better place for him elsewhere in the house or put him by the curb along with the recycling. I try to practice the adage, “My house is clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy.” At least, this was the case, and then Alice turned into a tornado…I mean toddler.

Sometimes I wander through the house wondering what the hell happened. I tidy things up and no sooner do I leave the room then it looks cluttered and messy again. For a while I thought mischievous fairies were at work. It seemed impossible that one toddler could cause such chaos but unfortunately that is the case. I don’t think there is a room in the house that does not bare her mark in the form of toys, discarded clothing, board books, and whatnot. I shower with rubber ducks and squirt toys. I eat with Spongebob Squarepants. I found pirate Pablo from the Backyardigans in my shoe the other day.

Thankfully the people who come to visit us have children too so they find our home (not necessarily the occupants) perfectly normal. Those who don’t have kids probably view our home as a form of birth control. It is rather nice to know that our house after four years finally looks “lived in” and acts as a public service announcement.