What about Batman?

So we're sitting around discussing names, and Dave throws out Batman as a suggestion.

Uhhhhh...for a girl or boy?

A momentary pause while Dave's face falls. "Oh, right. We're having a girl. I guess that would be a boy's name."

Yes. Because the fact that we're not having a boy is the only reason we wouldn't use that name. I had an appointment today and my doctor asked Mabes if we had a name yet. Again, she responded with Nickanoo. He was amused by that, as well as Ricecake (who also got to come to this appointment), and at the end of the appointment said something about how maybe Mabes will get to tell him the name next time.

Yeah, don't count on it. At the rate we're going, it'll be a while. I'm taking suggestions, since Dave's are...less than helpful.



To clarify on Dave's behalf, though, if we did name a kid Batman, it wouldn't be pronounced BatMAN, it would be pronounced BATman. Like Bateman. Or Goldman. (There should be a GoldMAN!) It's actually kind of growing on me.

Ricecake gets a timeout

Last week, Mabes came out of her room, very upset. "Ricecake isn't sharing my doctor's kit with me!" Really? I suggested that she ask Ricecake nicely. Ricecake still didn't relent. "I don't want to play with Ricecake anymore, she's mean!" Fine, don't play with your stuffed lamb. But Mabes still seemed rather broken up about it, so I asked her what she thought she should do about it. "I think Ricecake needs a timeout."

After timeout, a penitent Ricecake apologized to Mabes and they were once again friends. I thought this was the end of the story.

However, at church two days later, my friend Alisa was teaching a Sharing Time lesson on forgiveness in Primary. She told the kids what forgiveness was, and asked if anyone had an example of a time when they forgave someone. Mabes raised her hand and told the story about Ricecake and the doctor's kit, how Ricecake was so mean, but that she was able to forgive her and be friends again. Thankfully, Alisa reads this blog and has met Ricecake, so Mabes' response made perfect sense. Everyone else may have been a bit confused.

Sneaky

During Mabes' quiet time today, I had to make some phone calls. For the first one, Mabes was rather crazy, as she often is when I'm on the phone. I told her to please stay in her room, I need to make another call. I fixed a makeshift sling for Ricecake (evidently, Mabes had noticed another mom using a sling at the park and decided she needs one) and sent her on her way. I made the other call, and when it ended, I realized that Mabes was playing quietly in her room, as I had asked her.

So I went to the kitchen and washed some cherries, went over my to-do list, ate said cherries (by the way, I know it's not a pressing scientific need, and things like a cure for cancer or a teleporter certainly take precedence, but when are they going to make cherries without pits? They made seedless watermelons. I'm just sayin'...), folded some laundry, ate some more cherries, and then realized that Mabes had been in her room--quiet--for some time. Door closed. Locked. Never a good sign. I put my ear to the door and heard some plastic rustling, and weighed the options. I mean, could she possibly be doing anything bad enough to warrant disturbing the quiet? Curiosity got the best of me, and after some hesitation and more rustling plastic, Mabes agreed to open the door.

I walked in, looked around, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. A mess of toys, but no crayon or makeup or paint. She told me she was just playing, and I as I tried to figure out what plastic she was playing with, I saw this mat she has and asked if she had been playing with that. She said yes, I said okay and turned to close the door. And then I noticed 2 Rice Krispies stuck to Ricecake's sling.

I stepped back into the room and scanned it again--Mabes looking guilty--and this time noticed the well-hidden box of Rice Krispies peeking out from behind her book box. Don't laugh, Allison, don't laugh. But I couldn't help it. Mabes asked why I was laughing, and I had to tell her it was because I thought of something funny. I shouldn't encourage this, right? So picked up the box of cereal, and Mabes explained that Ricecake was hungry so she was feeding her. Though I don't usually let her have food for quiet time, I gave her a little cup of Rice Krispies to feed Ricecake. (It's been a rough few days, so a quiet hour was well worth compromising my rules!)

As I put the cereal away, I just giggled to myself. I mean, I know kids sneak food. I did it, though it was much easier and better to do at the Rawlings than at our house. Sometimes we lucked out with marshmallows or chocolate chips, but usually it was just handfuls of food storage wheat kernels. But should I be worried that not only is my 3-year-old sneaking food, but really good at hiding it?

And in case anyone is looking for birthday suggestions, Mabes informed me today that for her 4th birthday, she'd like a cookie machine. And by that, she means a Kitchenaid stand mixer. I told her that since mommy didn't get one until she got married, Mabes would have to wait a while. I do use my Kitchenaid for things other than cookies...

Happy birthday, Ricecake!

I think I may have mentioned that Mabes love birthdays. LOVES them. Some days, I think she'll grow up to be a waitress at Chevy's just so she can sing to anyone who might be celebrating that day (not to mention the giant birthday sombrero). So I wasn't surprised when I heard her singing to her toys, but I was curious as to whose birthday it might be. I mean, we all know Rocket's birthday isn't until August. I peek my head in, and see this:

It's Ricecake's birthday! She's turned two! Of course Ricecake is younger--none of her toys can be older and therefore cooler than she is. And what two-year-old's birthday party isn't complete without a cake (on the right--it's the pile of wipes smashed into the pan decorated with plastic ice cream cones) and new potty chair? Mabes informed me that that's what Ricecake is sitting on; it's not a wipes container. And the little button in the middle is the flusher. I'm just glad no one at the party felt awkward that Ricecake was sitting on a potty chair while blowing out the candles.

And more pictures of Mabes and her BFF of the week, Ricecake:

In matching dresses, but because Mabes is spinning, you can't really tell.

Eating breakfast together, while Rocket looks on enviously.

Babysitting Mr. Chicken

Sunday was General Conference, which meant our tradition of homemade cinnamon rolls and watching church in pajamas. My mom's cinnamon roll recipe is fantastic but makes way more than we can eat (wimps!), so we decided to share with some neighbors and our friend Angela. When we took the rolls to her house, she let Mabes ransack her room, and Mabes discovered Mr. Chicken. As we were about to leave, Angela asked Mabes if she wanted to take Mr. Chicken home, take care of him, and show him a good time until Monday night, when Angela comes over to watch 24. (Kind of like our own 24, but instead of nonstop edge-of-your-seat terrorist-killing Jack Bauer action, it's just Mabes and a giant stuffed chicken hanging out. So really, nothing like 24.) Mabes promised she'd take good care of Mr. Chicken, and would report the next day.

We brought Mr. Chicken home, and of course, Mabes decided he wanted to play dress ups. I asked if perhaps Mr. Chicken was actually a girl, and Mabes said "no, even boys like to be pretty."

She checks his crown and compliments him on his dress, and then they play trains.

And then they dance.

Bedtime! By this time, Mr. Chicken and Rocket had become acquainted and were getting along swimmingly.

The next morning, Mabes informed me that Mr. Chicken was, in fact, a girl. It must have come up in their late night heart-to-heart. We had some errands to run, so Miss Chicken came along for the ride.

Mabes decided that Miss Chicken wanted to go for a walk. Sadly, she didn't fit well in the stroller and it didn't come with a lap extension belt. I improvised.

Mabes stopped to pick up a "magic leaf" to show Miss Chicken. Again, I don't know how she decides which things on the ground are magic, but at least this magic item didn't end up in her nose.

And then Mabes decided Miss Chicken would prefer a faster pace. I can only imagine what passers-by must have thought of seeing a three-year-old trying to maneuver a giant stuffed chicken in a stroller.

And since it was a nice day (right before the stupid-freezing-weather-in-April blew in), Mabes and Miss Chicken enjoyed a picnic lunch on the balcony.

They played the rest of the afternoon, and we had chicken for dinner. Mabes didn't seem to notice, but Miss Chicken seemed a little concerned. When Angela came, she told Mabes that since Miss Chicken was having so much fun with her, she could keep her a little longer. So now, when people at the grocery store ask Mabes her name or how old she is, Mabes launches into stories about Miss Chicken. It's a nice change of pace from the Rocket stories.

Oh, and my mom has a blog now, proving that she is the cutest moomy ever. Yay, moom! I'm thinking it will be nice to have 3 blogs to document the madness that will be next week at Sarah's. Mabes and I were talking about how crazy fun it was going to be, and Dave just shook his head and muttered, "poor Joel." Good times!

Imaginary friend?

I'll admit it: I was secretly looking forward to the imaginary friend stage. My mom's stories about Sarah and her friends Jack and Peehee are hilarious, so I was just waiting to see what sort of crazy army of friends Mabes would dream up. Sadly, it hasn't happened. So I'm thinking the closest thing to an imaginary friend Mabes will have is a personified stuffed rocket.

Mabes, Rocket, and her dolls in her laundry basket boat.

Last week, she was carrying Rocket around by the antenna. I told her she needed to stop or it would break off, and she, shockingly, didn't listen. So I told her that Rocket doesn't like it when she picks him up by the antenna. It hurt him and was like pulling his hair. She stuck out her lower lip, hung her head in shame, and went to her room. When she came out, she went to Rocket, hugged him, and whispered what I can only guess is some sort of apology. She hasn't carried him by the antenna since.

This one's for Becca

Other things about Rocket that I've learned recently, courtesy of Mabes: He's her best friend, he's her brother (funny, I don't remember giving birth to a rocket), they have the same birthday, he's also 3, he likes broccoli, hates avocado, loves snow, daffodils, and dancing; he dislikes dragons and big jet, and laughs at all her jokes. And he likes to cuddle and wishes he could join in family hugs.

And I knew it would happen: she is now a better artist than I am (damning with faint praise?). She wanted to draw Rocket a picture, so this is what she came up with:


If you or your child is into Little Einsteins, I'm sure you can guess what it's supposed to be. It was her attention to detail that impressed me: note June's headband and earrings, Annie's blue dress with green sleeves, and Rocket's intact antenna.


Oh, and a confession: Mabes came out of her room and caught me tossing an M&M speck-tacular egg (hurrah! I finally found them!) in my mouth. She suspected immediately. Eyebrows raised, sneaky smile, "Mommy...what are you eating?"

"Uhhhhh...avocado! Do you want some?"

She sighed, disappointed. "Nooooo fank you. I don't like avocado," and walked back to her room.

Rah-rah-rah for Rocket!

When Laura came to visit last May, she warned me that she had a present for Mabes, assuming it would fit in her suitcase. It did (only after taking it to work with her, right Bora?), and Mabes was delighted with her new giant plush Rocket from Little Einsteins. She had a blast with him for the next couple of days, but after that, it just sat on the chair as more of a decoration than a toy.

In the last few months, however, Rocket has become one of her favorite toys and her best friend during quiet time. She talks to him. She plays hide-and-seek with him. They have quite loud conversations, and it sounds like they re-enact her favorite episodes of Little Einsteins during quiet time. Still, I didn't understand her level of attachment until our last night in DC.

Like most nights, she asked "what's going to be tomorrow?" I told her Thursday, and she asked what we'd do. "Well, we'll go to a museum in the morning to see dinosaurs, and then we're going to drive for a while in the car, and then we'll be home." She thought for a minute, "Not the hotel house? But Mabes' house? My green house?" Yes, is that alright? "Yeah, I need to go home, because I miss Rocket." Really? Okaaaaay...

The next morning, as I was getting ready, she decided she needed to make some phone calls, so I unplugged the phone and let her have at it. First, she called the "man at the restaurant" and told him to make us some breakfast. We'd come get it soon. Then she decided she was going to call all her toys at home and tell them she missed them and was coming home. And then she needed to talk to just Rocket for a while. They had a heart-to-heart and she was fine the rest of the morning. The whole drive home, she talked about how much she missed her toys, especially Rocket. When we walked in the apartment, I asked her if she was going to go see Rocket. She slowly walked to her room and peeked in, with that shy "I know I like you and I'm happy to see you but I'm going to play coy for a minute" act that she does with family members she hasn't seen in a while. But this is a stuffed toy. She got over it, greeted all her toys, and was happily playing with them and everything is back to normal. To this day, we can't talk about our trip to Washington or see a picture of the Capitol or Washington Monument without her mentioning that that was when she missed Rocket.

I'm kind of nervous about our trip next week. Considering baggage fees, luggage space will be at a premium so Rocket will not be going with us. (Unless of course he flies himself.) I'm hoping she'll be too distracted by family members to notice Rocket's absence, but fam: if she starts whining about missing Rocket, you'll know why. Blame Laura.

A new friend!

What, you don't see him? The pumpkin in her left hand. His name is Perry. She fell in love with him at the grocery store and refused to let him go. He ate lunch with her, she put him down for a nap, and he also woke up happy, though a little hungry for a snack. (Sidenote: She napped! I was actually quite surprised she didn't insist on napping with Perry. I was so desperate to get her to sleep that I would have let her.) He read books with us, he colored with us, but when I suggested he might be more comfortable in a stroller than on a folding chair, Mabes just looked at me with exasperation, "No, mommy, my strollers are for my babies. Perry is a pumpkin. That would be silly. Silly mommy."

Perry did, however, eat dinner with us, go to mutual with us, eat a cookie with her, and put on his pajamas and go to bed (without throwing a fit tonight), and Mabes has informed me that he will sleep all through and wake up happy when it's light outside. But he's a pumpkin, so he doesn't ride in the stroller. Because that would be crazy.

What's going on in that head of hers?

First of all, her vocabulary is crazy. Forget picking up new words, she's pulling things out from who-knows-where. Like yesterday, she grabbed a sash (from her pirate costume) and said it was her jump rope and kept attempting to jump over it. I have no clue where she learned about jump ropes. Nursery?

She talks non-stop. Not only does she wake up happy, all her toys do, too. Or so she says. "Mommy, wheh ah you! Mommy, I wape [wake up] happy!" Then when Dave or I go get her, she repeats that she's happy, then tells us that Ricecake (also called Lammy now, since that's what Dono calls his stuffed lamb) woke up happy, along with Winston, the giant stuffed dog my mom bought her last year. Her Little People house woke up happy, her airplane woke up happy, her cars woke up happy, her dolls woke up happy...you get the idea. Oh, and those toys also stay dry and poop in the potty, not their panties--her words, not mine. Fabulous, Mabes, but since your toy vacuum is so good at pooping in the potty, maybe you could just try?

In the last few days, she'd decided she's ready for another airplane trip. Specifically, a trip to see Ainsleigh and Dono. She'll randomly say, "Shoot, mommy, I need suitcase!" Why? "So we go on airplane, fly up up in sky, and see Ainsleigh and Dono!" She gets really upset when I tell her we can't go on the airplane because we don't have tickets. "But I want to fly airplane, see pilot, see Ainsleigh Dono!" She was dragging around a belt today and mumbling something about suitcases, then I realized she thought it was her suitcase and she was packed and ready to go. She also thinks she needs to drag her backpack around, undeterred when I point out its obvious lack of wheels.

And perhaps the newest addition to her vocabulary is the word "curly." We use it a lot to describe her hair, Dave always tells her how much he loves her curly hair. But we think she thinks curly means cute. She always talks about mommy's curly hair (?) and then tonight told Dave he was so curly, and then she dropped to the floor and wiggled around saying, "I curly, too! Look at me! I so curly!"

Strange little girl...

They say that children mimic their parents with their dolls. If this is true, I must put Mabes in her stroller, run her into walls, then dump her out of the stroller, and put my cars, puzzle, cup, and shoe in the stroller and go tearing around the house. And then start crying when the puzzle falls out.

Yesterday, Mabes found the fruitcake that a woman from church gave me. It was a small loaf in a ziploc bag, so she didn't taste it and had no clue what it was. But she was quite convinced that it was her best friend. We got home from church, she immediately put it in her stroller and pushed it around until lunch was ready. Fruitcake Friend then watched her eat, then watched the obligatory 5 minute pre-nap episode of Thomas with Mabes. Rather than ride the naptime horsey to her room, she pushed Fruitcake Friend in her stroller. FF sat in her lap while Dave read to her, then she threw it in her crib.

I figured I would be sneaky and pull it out while Dave was picking her up and closing the blinds. He put her in her crib and I went to get her cars and the doll she sleeps with. When I came back, she was looking under her pillow and blankets for her Fruitcake Friend. She kept asking, "Wheh go? Wheh go, mommy?" At this point, Dave was of no help as he had collapsed on the floor laughing. So I grabbed the fruitcake, laid it next to the baby doll, and Mabes snuggled down and talked to her cars and fruitcake until she fell asleep. She didn't touch it, she didn't try to open or eat it. She just wanted it in her crib with her.