Who Let the Dogs Out

Ethan, the four year old autistic one?  He sometimes acts like he’s a dog.

He flounces around on all fours, barks, and brings stuff to me in his mouth.  He even licks me, but that could just be unresolved oral issues.

I humor him, because I think it could be a useful skill at some point.  You know – “bring me my slippers, honey” or “bite that intruder!”

But now little Beckett is doing it.  He’s only 21 months, and he is so stinkin’ cute with his little puppy noises, I can’t stand it.  He crawls over to me when I sit on the floor and nuzzles his little soft head in my lap and my heart just goes goosh.  So I let him do it, too.

What I’m wondering is, am I helping solidify some kind of maladaptive means of them getting their needs met?  Is Ethan going to bite strangers like he now bites his brother and me?  Is Beckett going to be labeled a weirdo because he wants to be scratched behind the ears by his girlfriend?

These are the things that worry me as a parent.  I don’t want to end up on some National Geographic special with kids that can’t speak but only make barking sounds while bounding around the fenced-in back yard.

But I think the problem has resolved itself.  Tonight they threw cereal around on the floor and got down on their hands and knees to eat it.

And Ethan said, “Look, mom!  We’re chickens!”

Finally! Scatalogical Saturday Has Arrived

Some time ago, a strange gentleman, obviously not a native English speaker, was kind enough to offer to return to my blog for “Scatalogical Saturday.”

I understand he is indisposed at the moment, but perhaps they have wifi that reaches his cell.  I don’t know.

But in honor of his probable return at some future date, I bring you:  poop.

I have refrained from titling this post with that particular word, in hopes that the pervs who constantly found my “to pee or not to pee” entry will not find this one.

See, I deal in poop.  It’s the currency of motherhood, the end result of what moms do.  My little Beckett, who all day long says, “daddydaddydaddydaddy,” when asked, “Who feeds you?”  Replies, “Mahi.”  That’s what my name sounds like when emanating from a beautiful baby named after a morose playwright.

About the poop:  I am a princess!  I am not supposed to be wiping asses and shaking solids into the toilet!  This is not what Disney geared me up for with all those movies.  I mean, hell!  Even Cinderella didn’t have to touch excrement and she was a flouncing* slave!**

So today, daddy comes in with Beckett and tells me, “It’s a big one.”

*Sigh.*

I plunk him in the bathtub to strip him because there’s just no other way to handle these things.  Ethan, being the odd duck that he is, wants to see it, insists on seeing it.

“Oh my god!” he says, and runs off.

Seconds later, he returns with his camera.

“I’ve got to get this on film!”

I’m betting it will never make the Disney cut.

*Flouncing.  Come on, aren’t you tired of freaking?  And frigging is so last decade.

**I am so not a princess.  I’m not even like a baroness twice removed or anything.  I might be a courtier or even a eunuch!  Or maybe I’m getting my terms confused.  Anyway, just so you know, I accept the shit because…wait for it…it happens.

Clue Number One that Tivo has Taken Over

So we’re reading a bed time story last night, when Ethan decides he needs to go get something.

Me:  But I’m reading the story, and you’ll miss it.

Ethan:  JUST PAUSE IT!

Overheard at the Crib: Another Cow on the Lam

Last night, I was informed that one of Grandaddy’s cows had gone to a better place.  Or not.

Ethan:  “One of Grandaddy’s cows died.  Um, I mean he went to God.  And now he’s in prison.”

Now that’s capital punishment.

Wordless Wednesday: Morning Snuggles

Morning Tuggles

In the morning, the boys and I usually have snuggles, which sounds like “tuggles” when Ethan says it.  I was already up on this particular morning, so they had to settle for each other.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Here, mommy, these are for you!

This child, the one in the picture holding the weeds flowers that are the totality of my lawn, just asked me why there are lines on the Italian pottery bowl he is eating his pizza from.  They are meant to make the bowl look rustic, I suppose, or something like that.

I told him that the person who made the bowl put them there on purpose.

He said, “Is that what God told him to do?”

I am so grateful.  Between the flowers and the adorably simplistic view of a coma-inducing complexity, I remembered why I had children.

For my personal amusement, of course.

Overheard at Bedtime…

I was getting my boys down to sleep last night and finally broke suction on Beckett because he was draining the life out of me.  He fussed and thrashed around a little, disturbing Ethan, who was already pretty much asleep.

Ethan, irritated, said, “Allright, allright, Beckett!”  And, hoisting up his shirt, sighed, “Have some milk and go to sleep!”

The Things We Lose Sleep Over

Tonight at bed time, these are the questions I answered:

“But Mommy, what if the bugs come in and eat all my toys?”

“But Mommy, can’t we bring the TV back into your room from Ellie’s room because you said you were going to just do it for tonight!  Can’t we just take it?”

“But Mommy, why can’t I just put the waffles on the floor and have them in the morning?”

“But Mommy, what if the squirrels come in through the attic and down into the walls and into the floor between the second floor and the first floor and chew through the wires so our dining room light and the refrigerator and the toaster don’t work?”

Okay, well – that last one really happened, I just thought I would throw it in there.  Sometimes, imagination just can’t top reality.

A Miracle Product

The scene:  Walmart, last night.  The detergent department (yes, it’s a whole department).

From across the crowded aisle, I hear a voice, “Mommy, here.  Here!”

Ethan comes hobbling up to me, lugging an impossibly heavy bottle.

Whether it was the angelic, smiling girl on the bottle, or some other, more subtle message that made him decide what the product was, I’ll never really know.  But he shouted to me:

“Look, Mommy!  This is for you.  It makes your children GOOD!”

It might not make your children good, but it sure was good for a laugh.

“In that case, buddy, I’ll take three.”

Overheard at the Crib

If this stuff doesn’t make it all worth it, I don’t know what will.

First:

Me to 4 year old E:  I love you.

E:  Why does Elise always want to MARRY me??

Me:  Hunh?

E:  She always does it and I don’t know why.  We’re just little kids!

Me (in my head):  I surely don’t know.  Why indeed.

On a less funny, more oh-my-gawd-did-she-really? note:

The 5’7″ child knocks over the 2’3″ child while storming out of the kitchen over me (ridiculously) not giving her a ride to the bf’s house because she didn’t do her chores.  When she is almost around the corner, she turns back to see if I noticed.

Her:  What?  I didn’t do it on purpose.

Me:  (giving “the look”)

Her:  He walked into ME anyway!

Me:  snicker, snicker….snort…guffaw