Back to the Future, or Something

Well, well, well, look at who is still around: "Baby."

Partly I can't believe that something so silly as an inflatable dolphin would continue to amuse my child -- she grows bored of things quickly. Especially when they're noisy, talking toys with hidden power switches.

But when we get to my grandparents', she follows her "baby" all around the pool, picking it up when it is close to the wall and throwing it back in, asking someone to "rescue" it when it wanders with the tide into the deep end.

She plays with it and talks to it, too, like it's her little buddy or something. I'd say it's strange, but I used to pretend that my imaginary friend, Elizabeth Toni, lived in my Aunt Shirl's lazy Susan. To each his own, I suppose.

I still talk to myself anyway, so I suppose it's No Big Deal that my kid has conversations with an inflatable baby dolphin who lives in her great-grandparents' swimming pool. Everybody deserves a best friend. Even plastic pool toys.

Building a Mystery

Since we were trying to keep Shae's birthday celebrations small this year, what with Easter being only a couple of days later, we decided that the big "showcase" event was going to be a trip to the Build-A-Bear Workshop to, um, build a bear. Or whatever. There are all kinds of different animals you can make there. Shae wanted to make a monkey but we actually said NO because, believe it or not, it actually IS possible to have too many stuffed monkeys in the house. Who knew?

Here she is, working the pedal on the fluffer-stuffer machine, or whatever the heck they call it. I didn't ask, since I was on camera duty. (Also: look at those skinny little chicken legs my kid has! I swear to God that we feed her. I think she has a tapeworm or something, because nobody who eats PB&J like she does should be so spindly.)

Picking out a heart to put inside her animal. She chose a soft grey cat. I am surprised that she didn't go with Hello Kitty, but she named this new kitty Owen. This is very sweet, and will also become ironic in a few short paragraphs.

I think the little air-fluffer machines are kind of cool, and I wish I had something similar for blow-drying Shae's hair, because she doesn't like to sit still even for a second.

Now we're getting Owen dressed. Here she is putting on a pair of underpants. YES. At Build-A-Bear, you can buy UNDERPANTS for your critters. I think this is simultaneously brilliant and a little bit horrifying. But the important thing to note here is that my daughter dressed her "boy" cat in Hello Kitty panties.

We probably made out better than some of the parents at Build-A-Bear that day -- we got one animal and one outfit (Hello Kitty pajamas), plus panties and slippers (both also Hello Kitty). We only spent $40, and they threw in a free Easter basket. Some people were walking around shellshocked while their kids were throwing around fairy princess dresses and magic wands and crowns and glass slippers and houses and whatever the hell all else. It's kind of chaotic in there.

All in all, though, it wasn't a bad time. It was super-crowded at the mall -- when did Good Friday become this huge shopping day, anyway? -- and it was hot, and Shae didn't really grasp what was going on, but she loves that kitty, and I suppose that is the important part anyway.

Survival Guide: Giant Stuffed Bear Attack

At some point in your life, you may find yourself suddenly under attack from a giant stuffed bear that came from your mom's cousin's boyfriend or something. But anyway.

The most important thing to remember in these situations is to ALWAYS REMAIN CALM. Important studies conducted by vitally important people have recently shown that these so-called attacks are actually hugs that are misinterpreted. Do not yell, or attempt to run in fear, but try to laugh, and make the bear believe that you are actually having a nice time with him.

In extreme cases, you might try to offer the bear a piece of candy, and perhaps take some time to quietly read him a story, while you want for park rangers or other professional people to assist you. Most North American giant stuffed polar bears are partial to books by Mo Willems about Pigeon.

Should you manage to survive, you might find that you have a new best friend, perfect for snuggles and warmth on cold and rainy winter nights.

This "Survival Guide" was made possible by Jellystone National Park and Viewers Like You. (And also the cousin's boyfriend who donated the bear.)

Dangerously Clever

It's been kind of boring up in this joint lately, what with the winter and the weather and the whatever. So we're getting creative. Improvising. Just the other day Shae decided to do a little treasure hunting, wherein she basically emptied her toybox ...

... and decided to make herself a boat.

Sorry, excuse me, it was a "yacht." I don't know why my 3-year-old even knows the word "yacht," let alone that there is a difference between a yacht and a really big boat, but she does. I blame global warming, public television, and cheese.

We are finding her toys in the weirdest places, like her pants pockets and, for some reason, the bathtub. I mean, there's nothing wrong with Mrs. Godzilla taking a bath once in a while, but who looks at a pink plastic dinosaur and says, "Hey, excellent idea, let's take this in the tub!"

It's even stranger to watch her in the tub "making dinner" for this dinosaur out of bubbles and water, and trying to feed it with a measuring spoon. Yes, I think plastic measuring spoons make perfectly reasonable tub toys. Don't you judge me. (We practice our colors.)

She's also decided to do a little redecorating by moving her little papasan chair so she can get a better view of the TV.

It was a very busy weekend, don't you think?

Wordless Wednesday: The MonKey Shot

Lazy Sunday

We stayed in Pittsburgh later than we originally planned to, until more than halfway through what turned out to be the Steelers last game of the season (damn you, Baltimore!), and since we've been back I've spent more time at work than at home (damn you, year end close!), so these pictures are a reminder of ... well, not sure what exactly, but maybe how much I hate my life sometimes?

Probably "hate" is the wrong word -- obviously I don't hate my life. My life is perfectly fine, better than many, even if too congested with the responsibilities that everyone has. Maybe I am just too tired to appreciate the Sturm und Drang of the mundane. I'm working all the overtime I can while it's available, partly because I need to, but also because I am hoping maybe I will be able to squirrel enough away for a small vacation. That probably won't happen, but I am going to try.

At home our Sundays are really lazy, laundry and something in the crockpot and football all day, and while we do play of course, our house is old and small and dark, so it was nice to be able to spread out and fool around with different toys and make a mess and let our hair down a little, with no agenda and no hurry to do something or be somewhere -- except away from the dinosaur robot.

It was also really nice to hang around with other parents while Shae hang around with other kids. Sure, she's at school all day, but while she's there we can't see how she is interacting with her friends, and we only really get reports when something goes wrong. So it was nice to see her being just as charming and clever and curious as she is at home. And because we're related to these people, I didn't have to hide the layers of crazy that I usually do.

Oh, but that hair! We're calling it "Polamalu Hair" because we don't know what else to call it. And before you even ask: yes, it is EXACTLY as hard to do her hair in the morning as it looks like it would be.

Somebunny Loves You

CUPCAKE WANTS YOU!

... to have a Happy Easter.

(And also to help me see how many Google hits I can get for the phrase "giant stuffed carrot.")

Leave My Monkey Alone

Fairly self-explanatory. This sock monkey was an early birthday gift from Cupcake's former foster family. It came at just the right time, too, as the previous original vintage sock monkey from my mother-in-law is slowly losing all of its filling due to being "hurt" -- and of course part of the injury involves toddler fingers reaching into holes on the seams and pulling out polyester fiberfill. Same problem with the sock zombie, too. Huh. Funny how those mysterious illnesses are contagious.

Look like Mommy's going to learn how to darn.

Drive My Car

I finally got around to asking Cupcake what this toy is called, and she told me it's a "car" -- which probably explains all the strange looks I have been getting when I told her to go ride her "scooter" so Mommy can gank some noobs.

What? Why wouldn't I call it a scooter? What would you call it? We haven't let her watch "Return of the Jedi" yet, so it's not like I could reasonably expect her to know what a "speeder bike" is, and that's what this car really reminds me of.

No, I don't know why. But you people already know I'm crazy. (Oh, and for the record? I totally prefer the blue-and-red version over this pink-and-baby-blue monstrosity, but it was free from the neighbor lady, and Cupcake loves it, so we're stuck.)

Variation on a Theme

Those pom-poms I picked up at Target for a buck are turning out to have more entertainment value and be a squillion times more photogenic than just about any other toy in the house. For this week, anyway -- next week I suppose it will be something else.

A couple of notes about this video: that hairdo? Is half a 'fro. She had barrettes in her hair when I sent her to school, but one of them disappeared. I still haven't found it.

Also, I am deliberately trying not to talk in these movies so you can hear some of the silly stuff Cupcake has to say, but of course here she decides she doesn't want to say anything, the little booger. I've heard all kinds of crazy things in the last week from her -- she asked if she could drive the car the other day, and just this morning she called that cute little TV rodent "Minnie MOUTH"-- but of course when I want her to talk? Nada.

One of these days, though, I will catch her saying hello in at least two foreign languages. (Spanish and Mandarin -- we're still working on the rest.)

Teach Your Parents Well

Sigh. Bathtime in our house is ... an adventure. One part Esther Williams movie, one part amusement park ride, one part horror movie, and one part something all together else. There is a lot of screaming and laughing and splashing and chattering and oh my God, the toys:

We have a LOT of tub toys. More tub toys that probably we ought to, if you want to know the truth. Although I have never done the actual math, I'm willing to bet money that the combined weight of our bathtub toys exceeds that of our actual child.

Cupcake's favorite tub toys are her rubber duck (from Aunt Jaime) and two Little People that she got for Christmas. She calls them "Mommy" and "Daddy":

Now, the "Mommy" part I understand. She's a little round blonde lady (check!) with an orange bathing suit (check!) who wears her sunglasses on her head (check!) -- she looks kind of like me. My sunglasses are black Gucci knockoffs, but still. But ... "Daddy?" My husband has a red baseball cap and dark hair, but beyond that the resemblance is specious at best. Is he just "Daddy" because he hangs around with "Mommy" all the time? I mean, really. My husband doesn't even own beach sandals, let alone flip-flops.