the pieces of my life

Today was Doodles’s last day at food group. He graduates! While his eating isn’t completely where I’d like it, the fact is he eats as well as if not better than probably 75 percent of the other five-year-olds out there. He eats: eggs (fried and hardboiled), grilled cheese, pasta with sauce, mac & cheese, red peppers, apples (with skin!), guacamole, hummus, falafel, homemade smoothies, hamburgers, Campbell’s chicken soup…

So, for his last day and in honor of his upcoming birthday, I brought cupcakes to food group. Normally Pie goes to Jasmine’s house for a drop-off playdate while Doodles is at food group. But today, she was torn:

Me: Pie, do you want to go to Jasmine’s house for a drop-off playdate or do you want to come to Doodles’s feeding group for cupcakes?
Pie: Um…
Me: Whatever you want! Jasmine’s house for a drop-off playdate or do you want to come to Doodles’s feeding group for cupcakes?
Pie: Um, I’ll have a drop-off playdate after the wedding
Me: The wedding?
Pie: Yeah. Drop-off playdate after the wedding.
Me: When is the wedding?
Pie: After my birthday.
Me: And who are you marrying?
Pie: Jasmine.
Me: And who is your playdate with?
Pie: Jasmine.
Me: Well, that will be convenient. But what do you want to do today? Playdate or cupcakes?
Pie: Playdate after wedding!
Me: But what about today?!?!?
Pie: Um. I want to have a playdate after the wedding.

Finally, I have a brainstorm.
Me: Pie, would you like me to send cupcakes over to Jasmine’s house? That way you can have a drop-off playdate and cupcakes.
Pie, visibly relieved: Yes!

Problem solved. And the wedding? Look for invitations sometime after her birthday.

I just had one of those bizarre circular conversations with my daughter. As I mentioned previously, I bought a bag of M&Ms; to keep handy for when Jasmine comes over. However, her mother mentioned to me that they’re phasing out the M&Ms; at home, and I had a rough weekend, so I figured, What the hell? and I ate Jasmine’s M&Ms.;

Fast forward to today. Jasmine is over for a playdate.

Pie: Mommy, I want to go potty so I can get an M&M.;
Me: You don’t get an M&M; when you go potty!
Pie: I do! When I have a guest over, I get an M&M.;
Me: No, no, no. That was only when Jasmine was training. She’s potty trained! No more M&Ms;!
Pie: I want an M&M;!
Me: We don’t have any M&Ms;!
Pie: Yes we do!
Me: No, we don’t. There are no M&Ms; anywhere in this house [and believe me, I’ve looked in my weaker moments].
Pie: I need an M&M;!!
Me: We don’t have any M&Ms;! When you get off the potty, I can show you.
Pie: No. Show me now. Bring them here and show me.
Me: But we don’t have any for me to bring. There’s nothing for me to bring.
Pie: Yes there is! Bring me the M&Ms; to show me that we don’t have any!

After a few more rounds of this, I take her to the kitchen and open the cabinet.
Me: See?
Pie, shocked: Mommy! There are no M&Ms;!

Riiiight. There are no M&Ms.; Although come to think of it, I could really use some myself right about now.

Our cable company went all digital and in the process they screwed up a bunch of things on our system. Adam called them to try and get it all fixed.

Pie: Who’s on the phone
Adam: The TV People
Pie: What’s their name?
Adam: I don’t know, Sweetie.
Pie: What’d they say?
Adam: They said they think you guys watch too much TV and we should stop letting you watch TV.
Doodles: NOOOOOO! We need TV!

On Mondays, Jasmine comes over after camp. Jasmine is just at the end of her toilet training, and I realized I was all out of M&Ms;, the universal potty treat. So I ran to CVS to buy a pack. I opted for the small pack, as I’ve been known to reward myself a little too liberally for bodily functions that I myself mastered a few decades ago. Doesn’t everyone have to say to her kids at some point or another, “What are you looking? I peed! Seventy-two times. Yes it is possible and no you can’t do it. Go away!”

But back to my point. First of all, who knew a normal-sized package of M&Ms; is 79 cents (and where’s my cents symbol? Hello, cents symbol! I don’t see you!). But what really killed me is the ratio of paper to purchase. I paid in cash. No credit card receipts. No debit nonsense. Yet the sheer act of handing over one dollar bill and receiving back 21 cents (again, symbol?) required the amount of paper you see here. How many trees died for my–I mean Jasmine’s–potty treat? Gads.

I’m not even sure how to respond when my son announces as I’m trying to hussle him along in his bedtime routine, “Mom! You’re really starting to test me!”

Hmmm… wonder where he learned that line?

[as reported by Adam]
On the way to rock climbing

Adam: What do you think about when you’re rock climbing?
Doodles: I don’t know
Adam: You don’t know? What do you think about when you’re going up the wall?
Doodles: I don’t know. I don’t think about anything.
Adam: What? You don’t think about anything?
Doodles: I’m not good at thinking. My body doesn’t know how to think when I’m climbing. I just climb.
Adam: Really?
Doodles: I don’t think I think. I have to remember to think.