Colorful bathtime

I've been pulling out the tricks lately to urge the boys into the bathtub. And I've had some pretty good success with foam soap and fizzy bath tablets.

The foam soap is just fun - it shoots out like silly string and floats on top of the water - oh, and it gets them clean as they play with it.

The fizzers are, umm, interesting. These aren't the rose-scented pastel numbers you're probably used to. I found some that are specially made for kids, made by Crayola. So, I bribed the boys into the tub, opened the container and let them each pick out one.

I look down as every-growing bright yellow puddles started expanding around each of them. Ewww!! (They were mesmerized, of course.)

Since I couldn't bathe them in what looked like pee water, I opened the container again and asked Mo to pick out another pellet. He did, happily.

A minute letter, my heart sank. Dark red streaks filled the tub. Giggling, Mo lifted up his dripping red hands.

I scrambled for the container again. This time, I made sure to give them each a blue pellet!

Still, it looked like dark swamp water. And it's hard to associate that with getting them clean.

When I washed Mo's fine blond hair, I wondered if it might end up with a hint of the dark blue-green. But it didn't.

In the end, they had one of the best baths I can remember - there was no crying, no cajoling, no threatening or whining. Just lots of pretty colors.

Naughty strangers

Curly has a wicked diaper rash/yeast infection right now. Another of those side effects from Hirschsprung Disease. This morning, he was walking funny, he was in such pain. My poor little dear.

So after work today, I let him run around sans diaper. Air out. It's supposed to help.

Of course, Mo had to join in the fun. They ran naked laps around the house for awhile. And then they were just kind of playing and goofing around.

"Whatcha doin?" I asked.

Curly looked at me and gibber jabbered. He's so cute. He talks and talks as if we can understand him.

Mo translated. "We're playing a game. Guess what it is, Mom?"

"What?"

"We're naughty strangers!" Mo said excitedly.

Curly squealed in agreement.

"Really?' I asked. "And what do naughty strangers do?"

"Well, we run around without pants on," Mo said, pointing out the obvious. "And we go around breaking things! And dumping people's root beer in the sink!"

"Wow, that is pretty naughty," I said.

"Yeah, we know" Mo said, and they both started running and laughing again.

At least it seemed to keep the little guy's mind off his sore boodie.

Playing with dolls

I want my boys to be well-rounded, so I've always bought them toys that are both traditionally "girl toys" and "boys toys." However, they only have a few dolls, because they're so mean to them.

The same baby who spent some time in our fridge, has recently become one of Mo's favorites. Last night at bedtime, Mo relinquished his baby to Curly, but first he outlined a few important rules.

1. No sucking on baby's head.
2. No drooling on baby.
3. No shining a flashlight in baby's eyes.
4. No showing her your butt.
5. No showing her my butt.
6. No showing her butts of any kind.

Once that was established, Mo handed over the doll. And Curly, who's 18 months old and teething, promptly began sucking on her bald, plastic head.

Gymnastic adventures

Mo is a little monkey, so gymnastics class seemed like a no-brainer. However, his first gymnastics class had a dozen kids or more and only two instructors - so they spent most of the time standing in line. And when Mo's bored, he starts looking for trouble. It was a disaster.

So I got him a spot in a very small class with only six kids and two instructors. Unfortunately, the first class was a mess. About once every minute, one of the instructors was getting on his case for not paying attention or doing something he wasn't supposed to. They shouted his name over and over.

Last week he injured his hand and ended up in urgent care. They glued it back together (!) and he's fine - but he missed class.

This week he was worried they wouldn't remember his name. I assured him they would (I think everyone in that gym - kids, parents and instructors will remember him from last time).

I was geared up for another disaster - but he did great. And he was so funny.

Another boy was having trouble sitting on his bottom while waiting for his turn. The teacher kept reminding him over and over. So while Mo was on the mat taking his turn with pre-cartwheels and mini-handstands, the teacher raised her voice, "Sit on your bottom, NOW!"

Mo, who's used to being the troublemaker of the bunch, stopped in the middle of his exercise and sat on his bottom.

Then later the kids were chattering while the teacher was giving instruction. She said, "You will all have a chance to ask questions after I'm done talking."

So when she was done talking, Mo's hand shot up. He asked, "Can I go first?"

She said, "No."

She asked if there were any other questions, and his hand shot up again.

"Where did you learn how to do all this stuff?" he asked, indicating all the gymnastics moves she'd been teaching them.

Finally, she softened a bit and told him the name of her childhood gymnastics instructor. I'm not certain, but I think he may have finally won her over.

More Mo-isms

Holding up a fly swatter to his little buddy, Mo intently explained, "It's called a bug cruncher."


We like a Mexican restaurant called Habeneros. Mo calls it: Bob-in-arrows.



At the grocery store, Mo loves it when we get to the cashier so he can watch the container belt.



And my favorite, he warns me before our walk in the woods, "Don't go off the path, Mom. You might get itchy ivy."

The VCR saga continues

Today at the grocery store, I bought Mo his very favorite toy: 79-cent generic brand scotch tape. Then, like most Wednesdays, we stopped at the library.

When we got home, while Mo was busy making tape creations, Curly hit the eject button on the DVD player. Without hesitation, he took Mo's new library DVD (Care Bears) and shoved it into the VCR at an angle that made me question if I could get it out without breaking it.

After much finagling - while Mo was whimpering over my shoulder - I finally rescued the Care Bears.

Mo, just as frustrated with Curly's VCR obsession as I am, asked me if he could tape it shut.

"Sure," I told him. (I love it when they police themselves.)

Well, a minute and a half later, Curly shoved his chubby hands right through the tape barricade, directly into the mouth of the VCR.

So right now residing in the VCR, we have:

• multiple shreds of sticky tape that I'll probably never be able to retrieve
• a bendy straw
• a hot pink, plastic pipe for blowing bubbles

That's an imagination

Today while I was preparing dinner, I heard a thud and then some muffled little boy voices from the living room. Whenever I start making dinner or loading the dishwasher or putting laundry in the dryer, some kind of trouble-making gene kicks in. This is especially true whenever I pick up a phone.

So I pop in the living room to access the damage.

They both look up at me, doe-eyed and sweet as can be.

"What was that?" I asked, scanning for anything broken or out-of-place, since no one appeared hurt.

They both grinned. Obviously, they were up to something.

Finally, Mo the Mouth spoke up, "Mom, it was just your imagination."