, , , , , , ,

What is so magical about bubbles?  I am sitting out in the backyard right now watching Pierce chase bubbles that keep ballooning out of the “Gazillion Bubbles Bubble Blower.”  Some of them are HUGE!  It is probably the best toy for him yet, but note to other moms who find themselves buying toys like these repeatedly because they stop working:  Run warm water through them occasionally to wash out the soapy residue.  My sister-in-law told me that after replacing several of these little machines for her kids, she finally applied the maintenance directions, and it worked.  Imagine that!  So I did too! 

Anyway, I have had the luxury of sitting in my Adirondack chair, listening to my tot’s ever expanding vocabulary and watching him cavort all over the yard liked a wood nymph.  His new thing is to come up to me, grab my hand, and say “C’mon, mama, come ‘ith me.  C’mon, mama!”  This from the kid who tries to lie down in Target’s parking lot when I try to hold his hand.  It’s got to be his idea.

I brought a dishcloth outside, since it was a matter of time before he rubbed his eyes with soapy hands.  Once the bubbles began to diminish, he found that swinging the cloth at them, the plants and everything else provided new and interesting entertainment.  I caught him doing that the other day to the cat.  Needless to say, Flanders found a quick exit from the backyard.  Then the fun of throwing the cloth was the next evolution of a “non-toy’s” many ways to entertain–until it flew over the fence into my neighbor’s backyard.  Many a toy has been tossed over the fence, which our neighbors understand, but a wash rag should be interesting.  The best part about it was the sheepish “Oh crap, mom is going to be mad” expression that came over Pierce’s face.  It was too priceless to be mad—especially when it was followed with  “Sor-wee, Mama, sor-wee.”  After a moment or to of shame, I smiled at this precious little toot, that makes me laugh. 

This whole “mama” thing is new, too.  A couple of weeks ago, we had some friends over, and I think that their little one says “mama.”  All of a sudden, I went from “mommy” to “mama,” which I don’t particularly love, but he corrects us with such conviction, it’s taken on an endearing sound to me.

Here are few more of his fun new words:




Cool=school (let’s hope he still thinks so when he has to go.)




Baby tar=violin


No yike dat= I don’t like that.

Angy berds=angry birds


Fly-fly=butterfly or dragon fly

Monter comin’=monster coming

And numerous others I try to remember when my hands are on the keyboard

Mikey,on a funny note, had his friend Alyna over after school yesterday, and just about the time that they were planning to leave, he apparently really knocked his head on his chest of drawers.  Alyna actually came out of his room to tell us that it happened and that he was sad.  It must have really hurt, because he was red-eyed and weepy.  I felt for him, so I comforted, but he wouldn’t snap out of it.  I walked his friend and her mother out to their car, and when I came back in to get on him about his manners, he was still weepy.  I was beginning to sense a little manipulation (and fatigue).  I sat down on his bed and hugged him and told him that he was okay and needed to let it go.  He looks at me and says with all the weepy conviction he can muster in a raspy, weak voice “You know what would probably help me feel better? A video game.”  (We don’t play those on weeknights unless he is at Grammy and Papa’s.)  So I told him no, and the pain in his noggin flared up again, making him weepy and pitiful all over again.  Oh well…he recovered, and when he did he was wild…wilder that I have seen in a while.  I was ready to hit my head in hopes  of passing out so I could get away from the constant chatter, screaming, and movement!