best. things. ever. volume 5

• How you say "for" instead of "to" like "I want to give it for Mama." And even in very subtle instances like together (forgether).
• How your enthusiasm for finding Tiny Little Balls has not died -- nor does it seem it ever will.
• Your freakishly accurate memory.
• Your freakishly heightened sense of perception (your ability to spot a ladybug, Tiny Little Ball or flea while being pushed in stroller -- "I SEE SOMETHING!! I SEE SOMETHING!! DON'T ROLL ME!!!")
• How happy, to the point of giddy, you get when I let you make cookies with me.
• How you say "windshield wipers" ("whimper wipers").
• The fact that you still call the stairs "dotes" even when you know the proper word, because Papa and I like it.
• How when I say something you really like the sound of, you say, "What Mama say?" just so you can hear it again.
• Hearing at 6:30 in the morning for the past couple weeks "THE SUN WAKED UP PAPA...THE SUN WAKED UP MAMA... I sleeped like a big boy!"
• How you lick my face like a puppy dog.

d money

For the past week, we've been taking care of my brother's dog, Duncan -- or D Money (the rap name we've given him along with his partner in crime, P Diddy, aka: Puppy Dog).

Ed and I, and especially Elian, really enjoy Duncan's visits and we love him as if he were our own. And since Norman grew up with Duncan, he's the only dog Norman will really tolerate. Duncan is without a doubt, the most mellow dog on the planet. If he could talk, I imagine he'd start every sentence with "Dude." I also imagine that he does bong hits when we're not looking. Duncan is a cuddler which is the complete opposite of Norman. Norman is more like a cat. He likes to be pet on his terms only. Not like Duncan who will curl up on the bed with you, inching closer and closer to you any chance he can get -- if he's not already lying on your head.

Elian is not used to having a real dog around the house. He's used to having his cat-dog Norman who he can't pet. So when Duncan's here, he is all about the cuddles. "I want to cuddle with Duncan... I want to give Duncan a hug... I love Duncan...." And Duncan just sits there and takes it as Elian wraps his arms around his enormous neck and rests his head on his back. Sometimes I feel bad that our little boy doesn't have a dog he can hug (or pet). I also feel bad that Norman has to hear Elian proclaim his love for Duncan at least four times a day. But Norman's neurosis is what makes him so darn lovable.

Some other of Duncan's endearing qualities have to do with his love (or obsession) with food. Around 3:30 you can expect to hear him impatiently pushing his food dish around waiting to be fed. And then there's the way he digs up rocks at the river and pulls them out with his mouth as if he's going to eat them whole.

Here is a picture I took of the two furry friends looking into the kitchen (it looked much better in real life). I imagine this is what they were thinking.

Norman: "For the love of god, woman, when is my next walk?!?"

Duncan: "Dude, where's my food? I've got a serious case of the munchies."

abcs

I wish I'd learn to shut my big fat pie hole when I take these little clips. I also wish I'd learn how to post to YouTube so the audio would sync with the video.

diagnosis: tapeworm

Ever since the Miracle Waffle Incident, the boy's appetite has been insatiable. This morning he ate 1 1/2 waffles and about 15 minutes afterwards, he wanted more waffles. Then came the snack requests after snack requests. After an ugly moment of crying and block throwing, I suggested some milk. He slammed it down and asked for more. Then he said, "I'm better, Mama. I'm nice now."

I write this now as he devours the egg I just made him -- the one he requested the minute he woke up from his nap. I was a bit skeptical, but now seeing him eat it like it was his first meal of the day, I'm glad I did.

The good news about this virus he had: We may have successfully (and painlessly) phased out the Nuk. He had no appetite for the Nuk while he was sick, so now we're riding the Nuk-free wave and we'll see where it goes.

The bad news about this virus (aside from the 8 miles of landfill we produced with poopy diapers): There has been a Calliou relapse.

anything and everything

Yesterday Elian was about 85% back to normal. I think since he was feeling better, and no longer confined to his prison that was the couch, he wanted to do everything in the world.

We made a track for his cars. We made a ramp for his cars. We made a ramp out of blocks for his cedar balls. We went to the park and kicked the ball back and forth and hunted for Tiny Little Balls. We played basketball. We made a train track. And this was all before 1 p.m.

Oh, and he also had a very blue lollipop.

for the non-believers

While I was away on Schulz Girls' Getaway Weekend 2007, I picked up a packet of cedar balls for Elian. Karen, Lisa and Mom laughed at me and didn't believe me when I said that out of all the gifts I brought home from Arizona, the cedar balls would be the hit. Now that our little guy is finally feeling better, here's the proof:


Later that same morning:

a poopy week. literally.

I arrived home last Sunday late night after an enjoyable Schulz Girls Weekend. I missed my fellas like crazy and was sad that I wouldn't be able to see little e until the morning.

Turns out, I got to see him sooner than I thought I would since he woke up at 4 a.m. I quickly learned why after fishing around in his crib for his Nuk, only to sweep my hand through a puddle of vomit. So he spent much of that morning in bed with us throwing up into a bowl. Then, I gave him the presents I bought for him in Arizona. Look how excited he looks. My sad little cowboy.

(I still don't know why my photos are sideways -- my resident geek can't figure it out either.)

The vomiting on Monday quickly turned to diarrhea on Tuesday and all the poor boy could do was lie on the couch and moan (and go diarrhea). Ed had the genius idea to double up the diapers with a cloth one inside the disposable diaper. This is why I married the man, people!

The diarrhea continued through the week and our little boy was weak and listless -- he wouldn't even crack a smile. It was very scary. I debated taking him into the doctor knowing full well they'd tell me it was just a virus and it had to pass. I made a call to the nurse who told me they had been seeing a lot of this particular virus that can last a week or longer. They've seen a lot of cramping too which would explain his moaning.

He hadn't been able to eat or drink anything all week. Then suddenly, Friday night we were lying on the bed talking about the Children's Museum. I reminded him about the little penny machine and how it squashed the pennies like a pancake. Before the word even got out of my mouth he said, "Pancake. I want a pancake!" Since he had suggested things before that he might eat and changed his mind, I offered, "How about a waffle." He agreed so we went downstairs and he ate HALF a waffle. Then when he was finished, he ate the other half! It was a MIRACLE WAFFLE. I'll spare you the details of what happened next but let's just say, I'll never look at our green towels the same way. But after that, it was like he was cured. He's little by little getting better. And yesterday, he actually moved off the couch.

He's now entered into a very grumpy phase so he's not entirely himself yet. We're not used to having a grumpy kid -- we don't know what to do with him. At one point he was crabbing and crying and we said, "You're being Mr. Grumps -- we want Mr. Happy back." And as he choked back his tears, he cried, "I AM MR. HAPPY!"