Would you like nuts with that? April 27, 2012

It all started with a typical communication breakdown.  We were on our way into McDonald’s for a nutritious dinner.  Max said he needed to use the bathroom really bad.  So, I told Ronnie to take Max to the restroom and that I would take Kendra, and then we would order our food.  Easy enough.

 
I subconsciously noticed that Ronnie and Max were standing admiring the Happy Meal toy display as Kendra and I entered the restroom.  But, when we emerged they were nowhere to be seen, so we girls went to order up some food while the boys finished taking care of business.  I ordered, got the food, poured the drinks, set everything up at the table, and still there was no sign of the boys.  Hmmm…

 

Several minutes later, I heard Ronnie laughing, and I looked up to see him carrying Maxwell.  Max was wearing these strange red pants that I had never seen before and Ronnie was laughing his head off.  What is he wearing?  I was puzzled.

 

Turns out, Ronnie did not take Max to the restroom when Max had to go really bad.  Instead, they looked at the Happy Meal toy display, and Max took a leak in his pants right there.  Ronnie rushed him to the restroom, too late of course, and had to figure out a quick fix.  I would have simply said no sit-down dinner for us and gone through the drive-thru.  Ronnie, on the other hand, used his creative parenting skills and made an unusual, though somewhat effective, pair of pants out of his shirt.

 

Seems he put Max’s legs through the arms of his long-sleeved shirt then tied a knot at the waist.  The result was something I would imagine old dancing drunk men to have worn in ancient Russia.  Maybe kind of Fiddler-on-the-Roof-ish.  If I were a rich man,Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum…Anyways, there was my son sporting his new dry pants and my husband giggling his brains out.  Time to eat.

Well, as if that weren’t enough for one outing, Max somehow managed to pour about half his bottle of chocolate milk on his shirt-pants.  At least the wetness wasn’t a bodily fluid, I guess.  I blotted him off best I could, and laughed it off since that seemed to be the thing to do for the night.

 

He ate his food, then sat happily playing with his Happy Meal toy – a talking Alvin, the head chipmunk of the famous rodent trio.  For whatever reason, Max looked at the toy, pushed the button, and when the toy said, “Hello, Gorgeous!” Max said in delight, “It’s baby Jesus!!”  Don’t ask me!  We laughed again.

 

Everyone wanted dessert, so I went to the counter still chuckling about baby Jesus.  I ordered our sundaes, and the young fellow put them on a tray along with spoons.  I looked at him and simply asked, “Do you have nuts?”  He turned around to get the chopped peanuts, but couldn’t hide his amusement at all, and when he handed them to me he was openly laughing.  Well!  Excuse me!  I didn’t know we were in elementary school.  I laughed along with him and went back to the table.

 

Max made a few more jokes while eating some ice cream, the funniest of which was his naming the nuts “little seeds”.  We finished up and were getting ready to leave.  Max, poor boy, tried to get up from the table holding the rest of his chocolate milk, and somehow managed to pour it on his head and fill his hood with it.  At this point, what do you do?

Ronnie quickly grabbed my purse.  Now, in the ten years we’ve been together, he has never, ever held my purse.  Tonight, though, he grabbed it up with gusto.  I think he even swung his hips a little as he walked.  He would have put lipstick on if it would have sealed the deal that I had to carry that little bundle of mischief out to the Jeep.

 

I scooped Max up, trying to hold him in a position that would keep his shirt-pants on and still keep me from being covered in chocolate milk.  It was awkward, but I thought I was doing a good job.  The McDonald’s employees gave me some really memorable looks when I passed by, but I attributed it to the shirt-pants.

 

Only when I got outside did I realize that Max’s “seeds” were exposed.

 

Oops!  What do you do?  We just laughed some more and drove on home.

A Portrait of Max (as a two-year-old) February 28, 2012

Mothering a two-year-old boy can be hazardous to your health – at least it is for me sometimes. Let’s see, I’m sitting here right now with a sore nose (it only bled a little bit).

My son is a wild child. A lot of people say that about their boys, but mine is king of the wild children. Don’t get me wrong, though; my son does not need medication; he is not hyperactive; he is not even hyper. He is full of life, always up for adventure, and already a risk taker. He is an explorer, a prankster, and sometimes a menace. But he has a heart of gold.

He usually does naughty things, but not terribly bad things. Just mischief. Rather innocent, really, and usually quite funny. Imagine my horror Friday night when I arrived at my mom’s house after a long week of work only to find my son in real trouble. He had taken a marker and drawn, purposefully, on each chair of the kitchen table. This wasn’t mere scribbles. He decorated the chairs with dark green ink.

]I could hear my mom’s pseudo-scolding, so I ran in the kitchen to find Max looking at her feigning innocence. I swooped in and swept him away to the bedroom, where I carried out the parental duty of spanking (which was not really what I had planned for my Friday night).

Later, during dinner, Max came running to me crying that Kendra had hit him in the eye. Kendra followed right behind promising it was an accident. I asked Max if it was indeed an accident and he said yes, though he would not stop his overly-dramatic wails of pain.

Sometimes, I try different (okay, stupid) parenting methods. For some reason, I was thinking in my head that if I told Max to hit Kendra in the eye, he would not want to do it since it was an accident that he got hit. So, (it had been a long week, in my pathetic defense), I told Max to hit Kendra in the eye.

The boy didn’t hesitate. He slugged Kendra square in the eye.

Well, on the bright side, Max didn’t cry any more.

The look on Kendra’s face made me wish an Acme anvil would fall from the sky and squash me, taking me through the floors of the house, the layers of the earth, until I finally burned away in the magma-filled center. Oh, it was bad.

I ran after her and begged for forgiveness. Then I begged her to slug me in the eye. Ridiculous, I know. And, of course, this child would never dream of hurting someone like that (note to self: Kendra and Max are, indeed, different). I hugged her and kissed her and cuddled her and promised her I would never do something so stupid again, and she forgave me.

Oh, Max is always full of surprises.

Like I said before, he really does have a heart of gold. He apologized to Kendra. And this morning, when he lunged at me with all his weight and head-butted me squarely in the nose, he immediately said he was sorry and told me he would make it all better. He planted a tender, sweet little kiss on my nose, and cuddled up beside me and went to sleep.

He may be mischievous, and sometimes challenging, but I wouldn’t change my son for anything in the world.

Would you like nuts with that? February 27, 2012

It all started with a typical communication breakdown.  We were on our way into McDonald’s for a nutritious dinner.  Max said he needed to use the bathroom really bad.  So, I told Ronnie to take Max to the restroom and that I would take Kendra, and then we would order our food.  Easy enough.
I subconsciously noticed that Ronnie and Max were standing admiring the Happy Meal toy display as Kendra and I entered the restroom.  But, when we emerged they were nowhere to be seen, so we girls went to order up some food while the boys finished taking care of business.  I ordered, got the food, poured the drinks, set everything up at the table, and still there was no sign of the boys.  Hmmm…
Several minutes later, I heard Ronnie laughing, and I looked up to see him carrying Maxwell.  Max was wearing these strange red pants that I had never seen before and Ronnie was laughing his head off.  What is he wearing?  I was puzzled.
Turns out, Ronnie did not take Max to the restroom when Max had to go really bad.  Instead, they looked at the Happy Meal toy display, and Max took a leak in his pants right there.  Ronnie rushed him to the restroom, too late of course, and had to figure out a quick fix.  I would have simply said no sit-down dinner for us and gone through the drive-thru.  Ronnie, on the other hand, used his creative parenting skills and made an unusual, though somewhat effective, pair of pants out of his shirt.
Seems he put Max’s legs through the arms of his long-sleeved shirt then tied a knot at the waist.  The result was something I would imagine old dancing drunk men to have worn in ancient Russia.  Maybe kind of Fiddler-on-the-Roof-ish.  If I were a rich man,Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum…Anyways, there was my son sporting his new dry pants and my husband giggling his brains out.  Time to eat.
Well, as if that weren’t enough for one outing, Max somehow managed to pour about half his bottle of chocolate milk on his shirt-pants.  At least the wetness wasn’t a bodily fluid, I guess.  I blotted him off best I could, and laughed it off since that seemed to be the thing to do for the night.
He ate his food, then sat happily playing with his Happy Meal toy – a talking Alvin, the head chipmunk of the famous rodent trio.  For whatever reason, Max looked at the toy, pushed the button, and when the toy said, “Hello, Gorgeous!” Max said in delight, “It’s baby Jesus!!”  Don’t ask me!  We laughed again.
Everyone wanted dessert, so I went to the counter still chuckling about baby Jesus.  I ordered our sundaes, and the young fellow put them on a tray along with spoons.  I looked at him and simply asked, “Do you have nuts?”  He turned around to get the chopped peanuts, but couldn’t hide his amusement at all, and when he handed them to me he was openly laughing.  Well!  Excuse me!  I didn’t know we were in elementary school.  I laughed along with him and went back to the table.
Max made a few more jokes while eating some ice cream, the funniest of which was his naming the nuts “little seeds”.  We finished up and were getting ready to leave.  Max, poor boy, tried to get up from the table holding the rest of his chocolate milk, and somehow managed to pour it on his head and fill his hood with it.  At this point, what do you do?
Ronnie quickly grabbed my purse.  Now, in the ten years we’ve been together, he has never, ever held my purse.  Tonight, though, he grabbed it up with gusto.  I think he even swung his hips a little as he walked.  He would have put lipstick on if it would have sealed the deal that I had to carry that little bundle of mischief out to the Jeep.
I scooped Max up, trying to hold him in a position that would keep his shirt-pants on and still keep me from being covered in chocolate milk.  It was awkward, but I thought I was doing a good job.  The McDonald’s employees gave me some really memorable looks when I passed by, but I attributed it to the shirt-pants.
Only when I got outside did I realize that Max’s “seeds” were exposed.
Oops!  What do you do?  We just laughed some more and drove on home.