Today was picture day . . .

Twix or Trix?

Coy and I have interactions like this one almost daily - he says a word, I say it back to him just as he said it to me, and he corrects me.  My intent of the video was two fold - to capture the way he says "Trix" and also to get this little daily interaction.  Of course, it is the one time that I decide to get it on video that he bursts into tears, making me seem just plain mean.  I blame my father.  He is the one who taught me all my torture techniques.

Hello. My name is Daddy.

I have been trying to come up with something clever to say about this little nugget of Coy's sweetness, but have not found anything worthy.  Maybe a bit of the back story?  It's simple, he found his Dad's hat.  The rest came from him.

Big boy beds and underpants

Coy has been busy transitioning from the baby world to the land of the big boys for a while now.  But, about 10 days ago, he decided to jump head first into big boy world and leave all things baby behind.  Just days before his new big boy bed arrived, he decided that he also wanted to wear big boy underpants and assume all the responsibility that goes along with it (well, some of the responsibility anyway . . . )

And here we are now, nearly two weeks later, and I have a bed sleeping, underpant wearing 2 1/2 year old.  Tate, of course, was thrilled.  Coy's big leap into big boy world had some fringe benefits.  He got the top bunk.

Look! They're not torturing each other . . .

The helmets were there, though, just in case . . .

From the mouth of a 2-year-old with a big brother

Me:  Coy, will you put your dirty clothes in the hamper and your diaper in the trash?

Coy:  Oh-tay, Mama.
Me:  Thanks buddy. . . .
Coy:  (throwing his diaper in the hamper)
Me:  Coy!  That diaper goes in the trash, not the hamper - Silly Goose!
Coy:  Oh, sorwee, Mama.  My bad.

That's right.  The kid can't properly pronouce his "r" sound, but he knows the appropriate context for the slang expression "my bad".

Look Mama! I NatNat

For those of you unfamiliar with "Coyman-ese", NatNat is Batman.  And yes, his "cape" is composed of a dishtowel and masking tape.

"Pa-jam-as" or "Pa-jom-as"?

You ever have those times in your life when something is happening and you wish you could hit pause, then rewind, and record the moment that you are living in to watch later when you need a little pick me up?  One of those moments happened tonight, and since they have yet to invent real life DVRs, I will have to settle for writing about it. . . .first of all you need some background info.

A while back Tate said to me, "Hey Mom, did you know that another word for pajamas is pajamas?" (Where he pronouces "jam" in the first instance, like in "strawberry jam", and the second instance "jam" rhymes with mom)
I said "Sure.  It's actually the same word, some people just pronounce it differently. We call them "pa-JAM-as", but other people call them "pa-JOM-as".  It's the same word, just said differently.  There are a couple of words that are like that."  Tate replied, "Yeah, my friend Kate at school calls them "paJOMas".  That's funny, right?  "paJOMas"!?! . . . . . fast forward to today.   

We are getting ready for bed, and Tate hollers to me in the bathroom, where I am brushing Coy's teeth.  "Hey Mom, where are my "paJOMas"? . . .   I can't find my "paJOMas"? . . . . My "paJOMas" were right here and now my "paJOMas" are gone."  Now, each time he says the word "paJOMas" (where the "jam" rhymes with "mom"), Coy laughs.  And, it's not one of those giggles, or chuckles, or superficial laughs.  Its a belly laugh.  A true genuine, warms your heart, makes-everyone-in-room-laugh kind of laugh.  The kind of laugh that only a kid, actually a toddler, can truly pull off.  And each time Tate says "paJOMas", Coy laughs harder, which only makes Tate say it more, and the whole moment made me laugh.  It actually makes me laugh just thinking about it.

If I could record and save this moment for replay later, I would use it when I need a reminder of just how sweet they can be . . . like when Coy is screaming at a decibel level so loud, the neighbors mistake it for the tornado sirens, because I put his pancakes on a green plate, when clearly I should have known that TODAY he MUST HAVE THE ORANGE PLATE.  But, I digress.

The first of many?

I once asked a doctor, "How do you know if a cut needs stitches?"  He responded, "Oh, you'll know."  Turns out he was right. . . .  well sort of.  

This is how it went down.  Coy was practicing his balance on the side of a pool by standing in a toy boat that was hanging half over the edge.  As it started to tip into the pool, Coy tried to catch himself with his chin.  Brandon and I watched from just out of reach as the whole thing happened in slow motion.  I thought for sure he was going to a) bite through his tongue, b) lose his front teeth, and c) split his chin open.  Turns out just his chin split. It also turns out that they can just glue these things back together.  I was amazed at how quickly and easily it worked.  As we were leaving the urgent care facility, I asked if I could get a to-go bag with the glue so I could save myself the $50 the next time (and I am sure there will be a next time).  They said no.  

An Interview with Tate and Coy

A month or so ago, I recorded this interview with the boys, mostly in an attempt to capture the way they talk, and what they say about things at this age. As I expected, it takes some unexpected turns, and ultimately makes me smile throughout. I hope you enjoy it, too.

Excerpts from the life of a 2 year old . . . .

Me:  (Very quietly trying to sneak a tic-tac while driving)
Coy:  I yant one, Momma
Me (thinking):  (damn, busted)  You want what?
Coy:  One a dose.  Orange tic tac
Me:  Ok.  Here you go . . .
Coy:  Mmmm, Momma.  It like a bird-day party in my mouth!

Go ahead and nominate me for Mother of the Year

Yeah, that's right.  I bought these for my children.  And it wasn't a spontaneous purchase.  It was a very methodical-went-to-4-different-stores-to-find-them kind of purchase.  You see, the kids have a game called "punch", where they take their fists and beat them on one another's chest.  Some might call it boxing.  But, they both love it.  And surprisingly enough, it almost never ends in crying.  So, I let it fly.  They are boys, right?

Then, a couple weekends ago, we were at a birthday party.  Coy turns to Tate and says, "Yet's pay punch." At which point, the fist throwing and laughing begin.  Nearby, a father of two young girls is overcome by a horrified look.  I feel like I have to explain.  I say, "we have a game called "punch" at our house.  They love it."  To which he responds, "Umm, yeah.  If my kids hit one another, I tell them to stop."  I think he may have keeled over and died had I told him the name of another of the boy's favorite games - Bite My Finger. 

So, I bought the punching bag and inflatable gloves.  The gloves at least discourage them from hitting with their bare fits. They'll have their teenage years to explore that.

Coy at the Little Gym

So, you know when you find a missing memory card, stick it in your computer, and a little bit of forgotten happiness pops up on the screen?  It happened to me today when I discovered these lost photos of Coy at his Little Gym class. . . . .

A conversation with a 2-year-old . . . .

(written phonetically as he sounds . . . )

Coy:   Nayg? . . .  Mama?. . . .   Mama, Nayg?
Me:    Are you calling me Meg?
Coy:   Yesth (smiles & giggles)
Me:    My name is Mama to you.
Coy:  Oh-tay, Mama . . . . . . . Nayg?
Me:    What?
Coy:   I yanna kissth (puckers up)
Me:    (kiss)
Coy:   Mo
Me:    (kiss again)
Coy:   Mo
Me:    (kiss again)
Coy:   Yanks, Nayg.
Me:  You're welcome Coy.

Future ladies, consider yourself warned.

Happy birthday, Mooch!

It is official. Today he is two.  Incredible how time flies . . . .

Coy's Backyard Birthday Bash!

Coy is two, well technically he is not two until Monday, but who's keeping track?!?

Regardless, we had a birthday party for him in advance because Gramma Tanya and Grampa Val (or 'that guy' as Coy refers to him) were in town.  It was a great time. We had cake, food and all the regular party stuff.  The kids had an awesome time.  And really, who wouldn't when the main event is something like this . . . .

Yeah, I know.  It is completely frivilous and extravagant.  We never had anything like it when we were kids.  And this is the sort of purchase that we very seldom make.  And even more seldom is Brandon the one behind it.  But, he got one look at the waterslide bounce house, and he said "I will have one of those, and I will BE THE COOLEST DAD IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD".  There really was no stopping him.  

After I reluctantly agreed to buy it, I felt complete and total guilt.  I ran through the list of other things we could have spent our money on.  I found a little bit of solace in the fact that this monstrostity was the 'compromise' waterslide.  The one Brandon really wanted to get was WAAAAAY  more obnoxious. 

Of course, after seeing the look of total glee after the first slide, I felt a little more comfortable with the purchase. 

After, 6 hours of non-stop sliding, I was convinced this was the best purchase we have made in a long time.

The birthday party was a total sucess.  Eight or nine kids playing nicely together for HOURS and HOURS.  And the best part, they all slept soundly that night.  And Coy had a very happy birthday. 

(Check out the slide show on the side for more birthday photos!)

Milk or Juice - I can't decide!?!?!

The other morning at breakfast, Coy was having a hard time deciding what he wanted to drink, so I gave in and provided him with both milk and juice.  Minutes later, I had my back to him, preparing my coffee, when I heard him saying:  "Moke . . .  jschuice . . .  moke . . . jschuice".  I turned around to see this:

I guess that is one way to do it!

Filling up buckets . . .

This post probably needs some background information.  Here it is:  the kids have a book called "Have you filled a bucket today?".  It is a very sweet book about doing and saying nice things to others.  When we do this, it fills up someone's "bucket" and you are a "bucket filler".  The "bucket" being this imaginary bucket we all carry around.  And of course, if you say mean things or do mean things to others, you are being a "bucket dipper".  You get the point. So, we inevitably talk alot about filling up buckets. . . .

So, I was taking Coy's photo wearing his brothers shoes (see previous post).  He was hamming it up, pulling his big cheesy smile and saying "ssheeez".  I laughed and said "Coy you are filling up my bucket."

From the next room, I hear "Mom, do I fill up your bucket?"
Me:  "You sure do, Tater. Especially when you are being a good listener" (you can never remind about that too much, right?).  "Now, let's go upstairs and get dressed". 

I turned around to put my camera down, Coy ran out of the room to find his brother.  I made a split second decision to bring my camera with me.  I headed for the stairs, rounded the corner, and stumbled into this:

Me:  "Whatcha doing, Tate?"

Tate:  "Fillin' up Coy's bucket."

Gigantic Train Slippers - Day 3

Today marks 3 days of wearing the train slippers ALL DAY.  Diaper changes are tricky - you either maneuver around his GINORMOUS feet, or listen to screaming.  Luckily, the few times we have left the house, I have been able to talk him into wearing his shoes - probably only because putting on shoes is a novelty right now. . . hopefully the train slippers phase is over before the novelty of putting on shoes.

The highlight of my day

Look at this photo, does anything strike you as funny? 

No, it's not the multiple stuffed animals in bed - this is perfectly usual for Coy.  Every night, he gets tucked in with "Big Lucky" (pictured under his arm), "Lucky" (pictured under his bottom), "Monkey" (look near his head), "Other Lucky" (look closely and  you can see his ear and paw sticking out from under the blanket), and "Blue Doggie" (unseen in the photo but I am fairly certain Coy is laying on him).  It is not even the multiple blankets.  This, too, is normal.  But, notice the GIGANTIC train engine slippers?  The ones that are at least 2 sizes too big?  Coy found these this afternoon and insisted on wearing them ALL DAY.  And they are too big and very difficult to walk in.  Tonight as we were getting ready for bed, he insisted (by relentlessly grunting and whining) that I put them back on his feet after his pajamas were on.  I had forgotten about the slippers until  now, when I went to check on him, before going to bed myself, and found them still in place on his feet.  I laughed out loud.