A higher pitched voice echoes, "To infinite and beyond!" THUNK.
Ah. my 7:30 am wake up call.
Happy random day in June! It's happy at the Espinosa house, for sure! Why? Because all the kids are napping! YAY! It's the little things.
What could make this day better? Sucking the middles out of half-baked cookies, that's what! I wonder what I am supposed to be cooking for dinner... No, I'll think about that some other time. I don't feel like being responsible at the moment. No, I've had enough of that. Who's responsible for the little girl at the park who's lifting up the tee-shirts of total strangers looking for babies? Yes, I claimed that one. Who's little boy is that walking on the roof of that stylish mini-van? I'm responsible! So now, with three babies sleeping, I'm ready to do irresponsible things. Like stare down the bold-text warnings on Nestle Tollhouse Cookie labels and say, "I defy you, warning label! You and your empty threats of food poisoning!" Nothing like warm gooey cookie matter to melt the stress away.
I love three year olds. They are funny, funny things. The other day, however, I was asked to watch the two and three year olds during the evening church service. I didn't find that to be amusing at all. When my co-teacher went to use the restroom I thought I was going to have a panic attack. The moment she left the room the volume rose sharply as one boy took the large bucket of blocks and dumped them on the floor, as another boy decided to punt all the play food toys one by one, and two other boys began to play tag while dodging blocks and flying plastic potatoes, in what is a relatively small classroom. One child eating Play-Doh made it abundantly clear that she didn't care that I did not approve. Instead, she curled up over it and hissed at me, like a certain hobbit, "I'm tricky!" Noemie meanwhile, was following on my heels asking over and over again for me to read her "disbooook." And then, of course, another had to use the potty, which is located in the hallway. So, while I love three-year olds, I would prefer to see them in isolated social settings. Sunday mornings must be much more constructive, as Dominic and Noemie are usually able to recount the lessons with great detail. Dominic's teacher said he practically led the class himself last week. Noemie came home talking about Peter. "Peter was a fisherman," I contribute. Noemie adds, "Yep, and sometimes a momma too." That caught me off guard. "Why do you say he was a momma?" "Because he wore a towel on his head." Why yes, yes he did.
Noemie says "momma" with a hint of southern twang. I don't have any idea where she got it from as all her teachers call me "mommy" and until now, I was Mami at home. But "momma" I am now and it kind of makes me a little uncomfortable. Speaking of uncomfortable, Danny will, from time to time, forget his wedding ring on the bathroom counter. This happened a few days ago, and I, trying to put it out of the reach of kids hands, placed it on the kitchen counter. Or so I thought. For two days, we searched for it, behind the dish drying rack, inside the disposal, under stacks of mail, and then out to other rooms where I thought I might've mindlessly dropped it off into some random nook or cranny. (I have a weird habit of thoughtlessly putting small things in accommodating receptacles and then not being able to remember what I did with them. This is why you may find a screwdriver standing in a pencil cup, hair claw gripping our bicycle's handle bars or my phone nestled into the rings of my recipe binder.) Maybe I'd hung it on the neck of a clothes hanger, or put it into a mug or tied it to a shoe. Who knows. I jokingly said to Danny, maybe Noemie took it. But then we stopped laughing and went looking for her Hello Kitty purse. There, amidst a tangled weave of princess-shaped silly bands and hair barrets, was Danny's wedding ring. She's like a troll!
Toby still isn't saying much. He's such a laid-back, easy going, tooth-deprived bitty baby. He doesn't appear to be a big fan of new experiences. He's never liked strawberries and I got to thinking yesterday that it was probably a psychological thing somehow. So I tried giving him the strawberries whole. Maybe that would interest him. But no, he dumped them on the floor. So I rinsed them and tried again, this time giving him a little broken-off chunk. He spit that right out. And on the next try, he turned his head so I couldn't get it in again. I finally managed to shove the piece of strawberry in despite the tears, and made him hold it in there for a few seconds. As soon as he swallowed, he grabbed the rest of the strawberry and tried to shove the whole thing in his mouth at once. Ha! I knew it! He's now a big strawberry fan. And blueberry too, after a similar exercise.
Dominic's been showing his lazy side lately. I ask Danny, "Is there any C-A-K-E left?" And Dominic quickly butts in, "Does that spell cake?!" Yet he complains that reading is too much work. He likes swimming at the level he's at, but he doesn't care to work any harder at it... like learning how to swim with his head out of water. If the sun is too bright, he's rather hide in the shade. On the upside, he can find Mexico and Madagascar on a world map.
I wonder what Thomas Jefferson would write if he had a blog. I'm so making that a writing assignment for the kids one day!
Dominic and Noemie enjoy snacks at the water park with their friends
1 comment:
Maybe Noemie has been reading the blog description at the top of the page... "Mama Espinosa on the move." I'm afraid, my dear sister-in-law, that you are her self-proclaimed "momma."
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