Little fashionista

The boys' dresser is too tall for Mo to reach the top drawers safely. Yet I want to continue encouraging him to dress himself - which has been a huge time-saver in the morning.

So I recently began using an under-the-bed storage container for Mo's clothes for the week. I put seven pairs of pants, seven shirts, undies and socks in the bin. I even make sure all the tops and pants match each other so he looks good no matter which combination he picks.

After a couple weeks, I started to feel guilty about preselecting all of Mo's outfits. He looked too polished, too grown up. He used to get so creative with his plaids and stripes and his bright green dog collar he sometimes wears as a belt.

Oh, but then he started getting creative again. That's my boy.

First he put his turtleneck on backwards and inside out. I pointed out what was incorrect and asked him if he'd like to change it before preschool. He said, "No, it's not scratchy or anything. I like it like this."

So I let him go like that. Interestingly, no one said a word even though it was quite obvious with his tag at the base of his throat.

Then he found a pair of Curly's sweat pants and decided to wear them to day care. I pointed out that his calves were exposed and he couldn't leave the house like that in the dead of winter. He went back to his room to change.

However, when he came back, instead of wearing new pants, he'd added a pair of knee socks to the ensemble. Way to go, Mo.

So perhaps I'm not stifling his creativity at all.

More of Mo's famous quotations

Mo continues to crack me up with his comments, observations and wit. Some recent examples:

1. Mo: Hey Mom! I know an animal that stays up all night and sleeps in the day.

Me: Really? Which one.

Mo: Um, let me think a minute.

[One minute later.]

Mo: I remember! A pasta.

(Get it? A pasta, opossum.)

2. Mo: Hey Dad?

Dad: Yes?

Mo: I got CASH!

Dad: You do? How much.

[Mo turns his pockets inside out and lifts up a couple coins.]

Mo: I got some quarters, and some diamonds.

(Dimes=diamonds... wouldn't it be nice.)

3. At the Magic Kingdom in Disney World.

Me: Look! It's Mickey/Minnie/Cinderella/Chip and Dale

Mo: So?

Me: Don't you want to go see them? You could get an autograph. Or give them a hug.

Mo: That's OK. It's just a guy in a costume.

(He equated it to seeing people in costume on Halloween. So what that we're seeing Mickey Mouse in Disney World, I saw six Spidermans - Spidermen? - when I was trick-o-treating.)

Who knew raisins could be so messy?

I've written a lot about the disasters my Booger Boys create. But today they moved to a whole new dimension of messiness.

It started with a canister of raisins. Don't think raisins can be all that messy? Well guess again.

Curly dumped the whole canister in the middle of the living room floor. Right now he dumps everything on the floor, so that was to be expected.

But then Mo got the grand idea to ride his tricycle through the raisin mounds. Over and over again, round and round the living room-dining area-kitchen loop.

Again, it might not sound like that big of a mess. But what happened was the raisins stuck to his wheels - like 100 of them. Then as he rode, they were ground deep into the floor, creating a thick sticky film through our entire first floor.

It took the two of us about an hour on the floor, scrubbing Cinderella style, to de-goo the floor - which Mo did without complaint.

Now I think my floor is cleaner than it's ever been!

Mom is cool again, sort of

I recently posted about how Mo passed up a special trip with Daddy and me to hang with the babysitter. Yesterday we had the opposite experience.

I took him to play on the inflatables at the Y yesterday afternoon as a special treat while Curly and Dad napped. As soon as we got there, he took off. There were lots of kids jumping around the bouncy house and racing through the blow-up obstacle course. Mo was in heaven.

I hung back with the other parents, as we collectively congratulated ourselves for finding a (free!) way for the rug-rats to burn some energy in the dead of winter. Mo yelped and ran and bounced and laughed.

But then something changed.

He kept asking me to run the obstacle course with him. Or bounce with him.

If it was less crowded, I would be out there in a second. I've done it many a time.

But it didn't feel right to take a spot in line away from another overactive 4 year old - and make all the other kids wait in line just that much longer so Big Mama could have a turn. So I explained as much to Mo.

But he kept coming back. And back.

And then I figured it out.

There was a group of boys there, just a little older than him, who were all friends. I watched Mo ask one of the smaller guys, "Will you be my friend? Will you play with me?"

The kid said, "NO!" and gave him the cold shoulder.

Not easily deterred, Mo asked several more times, garnering the same reaction.

Now Mo is a very energetic, sociable guy - but I could see in his little face how much it hurt to get shunned by these older kids.

So I said, "Hey Kiddo, let's race on the obstacle course!" And we did. Over and over.

Yep, I was the only grown-up out there. And yes, I made the other kids wait in line while Mo and I bounced and bopped and slid. Boy did we have fun.

Afterwards, we just had to stop at Culvers and get ice cream - they had waffle cones on sale for a buck! I figure I need to take advantage of these moments now, while he still wants to hang out with his mama.

Introducing Skelator Mama

It's frickin' cold outside. Just like you'd expect in Wisconsin in January. Right now the temp reads 12 degrees F, but they say it feels like zero. Frickin' cold.

So this morning I bundle up the boys and get everybody out the door. We're halfway to preschool when I realize I don't have any gloves for myself. And I needed to stop for gas. Ugh.

Just before heading bare-handed into the freezing outdoors, I glimpsed a spare pair of gloves, bundled up like socks, in my passenger seat. In theory, I try to keep a spare pair in the car for times likes these but I'm not very good about it. So, yeah, score one for Mama!

They looked like your basic, cheap knit gloves. We have about a zillion pairs floating around the house.

But when I unrolled them, well, they were clearly Mo's special gloves. So today, I got to be Skelator Mama.

Mo likes the babysitter more than me

Sunday we had it all planned. The babysitter came at 9 to watch Curly. And me, Dad and our ski expert friend were going to take Mo on his first downhill skiing adventure.

I was so excited - and so was Mo.

But then it rained. And rained.

Yuck! Terrible ski conditions.

Since we had it all set up, we decided it would be nice to take Mo out for breakfast and bowling with us grown-ups while the babysitter watched Curly. At least he'd get to do something special if he couldn't go skiing.

Only when she showed up, Mo looked out the window sadly and said, "What are we doing again, Mom?"

Trying to sound chipper, I told him we were going for breakfast and bowling.

"Can I stay here?" he asked, eager to play with the babysitter.

"Really?" I asked, trying not to look too disappointed that he was rejecting our special Mo time.

"Yeah. I just want to stay here and play," he said.

Well, I wasn't going to force him to hang out with me. So we let him play. We had a grown-up breakfast at a not-very-kid-friendly place. It was nice. But I was still a little sad my 4-year-old didn't want to hang out with me.

But I should get used to that, I suppose.

This is Mo, leave a message

I thought it would be cute if Mo recorded the message on our answering machine. As an outgoing 4-and-a-half-year-old, I was sure he'd be up for the task. And boy was he ever.

"Hi. We're not home. I love you. Whoever you are, because I don't really know. I love you. Want to be my friend? Bye."

"Hi. [cough, cough] Oh no, I'm choking. Ha, ha, ha! We're at the doctor's office now, because I'm choking. Ha, ha, ha! So just leave us a message."

"Hi. Sorry I coughed last time."

"Hi. We're not home. I love you. Leave a message. Did you know I'm a rock star? Like Michael Jackson. Michael Jackson is dead! He's buried in the ground. I love you, bye."