No It All

Most people don’t know this, but I have a sister.  And her name is Jennifer Anne.

No, neither of my parents committed some unknown indiscretion you were previously unaware of.  In fact, Jennifer Anne and I adopted each other as spiritual sisters many many years ago during a highly eventful summer vacation to the famously uneventful location of Downieville, California.  She is totally the best sister I’ve ever had.

One thing about Jennifer Anne–she has always claimed to like the smell of skunks.  I know.  I’ve always been a bit skeptical myself.  But, she says they smell good…

And then I met my firstborn biological son.  Everywhere we go, when you’re least expecting it, he gets a very serious look on his little face and starts making sniffing sounds.  Then he says, “I ‘pell someting.  I ‘pell someting, Mama.”  (That would be “I smell something.”)

And of course I’m obliged to ask, “What do you smell Jakey?”

“A ‘kunk!”  (That would be “A skunk!”)

I’m not sure if we’ve actually smelled a real skunk on any of these occasions, but it always makes me laugh.  And reminds me of my dear spiritual sister dancing with a seventh grade boyscout in a Downieville community hall to “Hotel California” while using hand signals to pantomime another offensive smell: B.O. 

They’re rebuilding the school around the corner from our house.  It’s quite exciting as it involves giant piles of dirt and lots of big tractors and backhoes and other heavy equipment.  Every time we drive by in the car Jake asks, “Where the tractors go?  I want to drive it.”  The only reason we’ve been able to come up with for why Jake can’t actually drive these tractors is because we can’t find the keys.  “Where the key go?”

Apparently James and Jake saw a tractor being hauled on a trailer as they were driving home from school.  Jake asked, “Daddy, where the tractor go?”

James answered, “I don’t know.  Where do you think that tractor is going?”

“To dirt.  Big dirt.”

Way back at Easter is when we ended up with a small supply of “treats.”  The carrot jellybeans, otherwise known as Reese’s Pieces, became a handy dandy tool in our parenting arsenal.  We are not above bribing… or as psychologists like to call it: positive reinforcement.

In order to start down that path of someday living a diaper-free life, Jake gets “treats” for using the potty.  So far, it has worked pretty well, though we have definitely encountered many nights of complete disinterest.  One day I noticed my supply of treats was getting surprisingly low, despite being in one of these disinterested phases.

“Uh, James… are you eating all of Jakey’s treats?”

“Maybe…”

“But those are for Jacob!  If you eat them then I’ll have nothing to reward him with.”

“Well, I like treats.  I use the potty every day.”

Hmmmm.  So do I.  Pass me some of those treats.

Our friend Andy totally jinxed us.  We had dinner together exactly four weeks ago and he asks, “So, have you hit the ‘Why Stage’ yet?”

You have to go back and reread that last sentence but with an English accent.  There, now it’s like you were actually there…

I replied, “Nope.  I can only imagine.”

Exactly seven days later Jake had asked “Why” no less than eight million times in a 24 hour period.  He kept saying, “Me?  Why?”

Actually, Jakey, I think the question is “Why, me?”

This weekend at the Lemos Farm pony rides, the goats tried to eat Jakey’s cowboy hat off his head.  You’ll have to ask him to tell you the story.  You may be wondering why his cowboy hat looks so big.  That’s because that used to be Mama’s cowboy hat. 

Yesterday I was asking Jacob about his foray into elliptical equestrian excursions.  He took two forsey rides, the first one’s name was Cherokee.  Except it was tooled into a little leather tag on his saddle as “Cherekee.”  The second one’s name will become apparent momentarily…

“Jakey, what did you ride yesterday?”

“A forsey!”

“Yes, a horsey.  What’s a little horsey called?  Is it called a pony?  A little horsey is called a pony.”

“No, I ride a BIG one.  A BIG horsey.  A big GIANT one.”

“Oh yes.  You did ride a big one.  What was the big horsey’s name?”

“PeeWee!”

When I was little, I was never much of a “breakfast for dinner” kid.  I was more of a “dinner for breakfast” kid.  But now that I’m an adult who has to think of quick, nutritious, delicious meals on a nightly basis, I am definitely pro eggs and toast every now and then.  Before Jake came along, I was not above milk and cereal as an under-appreciated evening entree.

Speaking of firsts and dinners… tonight Nate had his very first bowl of milk and rice baby cereal.  He seemed a bit perplexed, but approached it as an eager novice.  Not even any funny gagging.  He even tried to control the spoon which I took as a good sign.

It has been a whirlwind summer of firsts.

First boat driving at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk which led to…

Jake and Nate’s first trout fishing trip followed by a stop at the local rodeo…

Which led to an insatiable need to ride a “forsey” (horsey).

What will we come up with for next weekend?  I’m thinking we finally fulfill our promised response to the weekly inquiry, “Mama on the choo choo train?  I want to ride it!”

P.S.

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Jacob is clearly a potential product poster child.  These chopsticks have definitely added “an element” to our dining experience.

Last night we had pork chops for dinner.  Jacob looks up at me and says, “I want my pork chops Mama.”

“Oh good.  Well, here’s your pork chop right here.  Eat these bites.”

“I want my pork chops Mama.”  (Clearly, he’s not getting through to me.)

“Yes, this is your pork chop.  Here is your sauce.”

“My pork chop with, with the owl on top.  Owl on top.”  (Subtext: Mama, it’s like I’m talking to a brick wall.)

“Owl on top?”  James is looking at me like Jake has clearly lost his mind.  Who knows what’s real and what’s made up these days?  He’s always telling us about imaginary lions and tigers roaming the rooms of our house.

Jacob gets up and starts tugging on one of the drawers in the kitchen.  We’ve never had to babyproof most of our kitchen because you have to have a special combination of muscle, persistence and luck to actually get any of these drawers open.  We watch him and continue debating the existence of pork chops with owls on top with our two-year-old.

Then that little part of my brain that actually understands Jakey’s thought processes finally kicked in.  “Your chopsticks with the penguin on top?”  I find his special Korean kid-friendly chopsticks.

“No this a penguin, Mama.  This a owl.”  And then he successfully ate his entire pork chop with his pork chops with the owl on top.

James literally just looked at me, speechless.

After months of anticipation, numerous threatening calls to an unnamed retailer and lots of talk about what “big boys” do… Jakey slept in his new big boy bed last night for the very first time!I woke-up in the middle of the night and James was gone.  Apparently Jacob was “‘cared” and needed his Daddy to lay down next to him on the bottom bunk.  He just doesn’t seem to find his Key-Rex dinosaur or Fire Lady particularly comforting.

I’ve come across several kids who treat their beds like islands that they’re trapped on.  I’m pretty sure Jake is not an island child.  How do I know?  When he yelled this morning that he was awake, James told him to get up and come in himself.  We heard him climb down, open two doors and then climb up into our snugly bed.  As long as this is happening after 6am, this new big boy bed could be a major improvement in the morning Jake-up call.