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.
Showing posts with label tater-isms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tater-isms. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 5
Sunday, September 26
From the mind of a 4-year old . . .
Tate: Mom! You are missing it. You have to turn right there.
Me: I can't turn there, buddy. There's a median in the road. I have to turn up here.
Tate: BUT WE ARE MISSING IT!
Me: It's OK. We will go up here an do a U-turn. See?
Tate: Cool.
(Fast forward a week . . . )
Me: Tate, I am going to go up here and turn around like I did before. Do you remember what that is called?
Tate: Yeah, Mom. It's a ME-turn.
Me: I can't turn there, buddy. There's a median in the road. I have to turn up here.
Tate: BUT WE ARE MISSING IT!
Me: It's OK. We will go up here an do a U-turn. See?
Tate: Cool.
(Fast forward a week . . . )
Me: Tate, I am going to go up here and turn around like I did before. Do you remember what that is called?
Tate: Yeah, Mom. It's a ME-turn.
Thursday, September 9
A conversation with a 4-year-old
Me: Tate, did you hear what I said?
Tate: Umm, yeah?
Me: Well then, what did I say?
Tate: Hmmm ..... ummmm.....hmmmmm. I don't know.
Me: Then you weren't listening.
Tate: Well, actually Mom, I HEARD what you said. I just wasn't LISTENING very good.
And I thought I had to wait until he was fourteen to hear that response . . . . Lucky Me.
Tate: Umm, yeah?
Me: Well then, what did I say?
Tate: Hmmm ..... ummmm.....hmmmmm. I don't know.
Me: Then you weren't listening.
Tate: Well, actually Mom, I HEARD what you said. I just wasn't LISTENING very good.
And I thought I had to wait until he was fourteen to hear that response . . . . Lucky Me.
Friday, July 30
Tuesday, May 11
A Mother's Day Interview with a 4-year-old
This interview came home with Tate from pre-school, along with a flower in a finger painted pot. The flower in the pot I expected, the interview I did not. Now the real question remains . . . in the mind of a 4-year-old, is 12 old? Is 20 pounds a lot or a little?
Monday, April 5
A conversation overheard at Easter Brunch
Friend (laughing): Hey Brandon, what were your thoughts on the pastel sweater vests your wife forced your kids to wear?
Brandon: I am a big fan. I am secure enough in my manhood to wear pastels and am teaching my kids the same . . .
(Tate walks into the room)
Friend: Hey Tate, is purple a girl color or a boy color?
Tate: There is no such thing as girl colors or boy colors.
Friend: Well played,Tate. Well played.
Friday, March 19
I guess I have "THAT" kid after all . . . .
When I was pregnant with Tate, I remember being advised on more that one occassion how there would be a time when he would insist on wearing something totally off the wall. You know, his superman pajamas to the mall, his turtle neck sweater and cowboy boots in July, or in my case, his swim goggles to the Arboretum.
I was actually quite proud of myself. I didn't insist that he take them off. I did as I was advised and just let him have his moment. I even happily obliged when asked to help him put them on and fix them when they would slide of his head. I wasn't embarassed. In fact, I was honored to be the mother of "that" kid and smiled proudly with every whisper.
And, of course, took lots of photos. Because before long, girls will come knocking and I can't think of a better way to send them packing . . .
Thursday, November 5
From the mind of a 3-year old
Tate: (scratching at his neck)
Me: Hey buddy, the 'skeetos bugging you?
Tate: Yeah, momma. These 'skeetos must think I am a restaurant, or somethin'
Me: Hey buddy, the 'skeetos bugging you?
Tate: Yeah, momma. These 'skeetos must think I am a restaurant, or somethin'
Saturday, October 31
A conversation between a kid and his dad. . . .
Tate: Daddy! Oh, Daddy!
Dad: (Not answering because he is trying to have a conversation with mom)
Tate: Hey you! You in the blue shirt!
Dad (laughing): Hey you, in the orange shirt.
Tate: Hey you in the blue shirt!
Dad: Hey you in the blue pants!
Tate: Hey you in the blue shirt!
Dad: Hey you, with the nose!
Tate: Uh, Dad?!? Everyone has a nose!
Dad: (Not answering because he is trying to have a conversation with mom)
Tate: Hey you! You in the blue shirt!
Dad (laughing): Hey you, in the orange shirt.
Tate: Hey you in the blue shirt!
Dad: Hey you in the blue pants!
Tate: Hey you in the blue shirt!
Dad: Hey you, with the nose!
Tate: Uh, Dad?!? Everyone has a nose!
Friday, October 30
The story of a lollipop and a germ-a-phobe
Scene: We are returning home from a night with friends. Tate enters, eating a lollipop, doing the "potty dance".
Tate: DAAADDY! I have to go potty!
Dad: Well, then go. You know where the bathroom is.
Tate: But, I need help! It's an EMERGENCY!
Dad: OK, come one.
(Que the sound of peeing, then a very audible "clink")
Tate: Uh-oh!
Dad: TATE! Exactly HOW do you expect me to get THAT out of the toilet?!?
Later that night . . . .
Me (giggling): So, how exactly did you get that lollipop out of the toilet?
Him (disgusted): I reached in, grabbed it, then washed my hands for 10 minutes.
Tate: DAAADDY! I have to go potty!
Dad: Well, then go. You know where the bathroom is.
Tate: But, I need help! It's an EMERGENCY!
Dad: OK, come one.
(Que the sound of peeing, then a very audible "clink")
Tate: Uh-oh!
Dad: TATE! Exactly HOW do you expect me to get THAT out of the toilet?!?
Later that night . . . .
Me (giggling): So, how exactly did you get that lollipop out of the toilet?
Him (disgusted): I reached in, grabbed it, then washed my hands for 10 minutes.
Tuesday, June 30
From the mind of a 3-year old we call Tater
Scene: we are sitting around the table, eating lunch . . .
Tate: Momma?
Me: Yeah?
Tate: Can I have some more Tater tots please?
Me: Sure.
Me: (turning to Coy) Coy-man, do you want some more tater tots?
Tate: No momma, for Coy, they are called Coy-man tots
Tate: Momma?
Me: Yeah?
Tate: Can I have some more Tater tots please?
Me: Sure.
Me: (turning to Coy) Coy-man, do you want some more tater tots?
Tate: No momma, for Coy, they are called Coy-man tots
Sunday, May 17
Just like his father
Last night we went to dinner at Texas Roadhouse. You may have heard of it. It is the place where you get to throw your peanut shells on the floor (which Tate thought was awesome, though didn't really grasp the whole concept as he was throwing the entire peanut on the floor). After dinner, we walked out of the restaurant and parked in the front row, right outside the front door was a flat bed truck. Now, the thing that makes this flat bed truck different and stand out is that on the bed of the truck was a giant cage. And, in the giant cage was a goat. A GOAT. A real, live, bleating GOAT - in a cage, on the back of a truck, parked in front of a restaurant. Now, those of you who don't live in Texas may think this is par for the course. And, even though Texans have strange phrases like "y'all", "all y'all" and "fixin' to", this is not an ordinary site to see - a GOAT in a CAGE on the back of a TRUCK parked outside a RESTAURANT.
So, of course, this goat was drawing a crowd. And, of course, we had to get a closer look. As we walked up to the goat, Brandon started repeating some lines from an SNL skit and it went a little something like this: "Hey Goat. I like your beard. Say hi to your mother for me." I laughed. But, Tate seemed to be paying little attention to Brandon, and more to the goat. We looked at the goat for a few more minutes and went on our way.
Fast forward to today (and stay with me as this is all going to come together). We are at the zoo and find ourselves in front of the gorilla exhibit. The gorilla is lounging up against the glass and there are several kids and adults gathered around. Tate walks up to the glass and says "Hey gorilla. How's your mother doing?"
So, of course, this goat was drawing a crowd. And, of course, we had to get a closer look. As we walked up to the goat, Brandon started repeating some lines from an SNL skit and it went a little something like this: "Hey Goat. I like your beard. Say hi to your mother for me." I laughed. But, Tate seemed to be paying little attention to Brandon, and more to the goat. We looked at the goat for a few more minutes and went on our way.
Fast forward to today (and stay with me as this is all going to come together). We are at the zoo and find ourselves in front of the gorilla exhibit. The gorilla is lounging up against the glass and there are several kids and adults gathered around. Tate walks up to the glass and says "Hey gorilla. How's your mother doing?"
Saturday, May 9
A conversation with a 3-year-old
Tate: Momma, you are not my best friend
Me: Oh?
Tate: Just daddy and baby Coy-man are my best friends
Me: Oh, that makes me feel sad.
Tate: Ummm, I guess I could be your best friend, if you want me to.
Me: I do. I would like that.
Tate: Well, OK, but I don't have much time
Me: Oh?
Tate: Just daddy and baby Coy-man are my best friends
Me: Oh, that makes me feel sad.
Tate: Ummm, I guess I could be your best friend, if you want me to.
Me: I do. I would like that.
Tate: Well, OK, but I don't have much time
Friday, March 20
A conversation with a 3-year old
Me: Ok, buddy. Time to get out of the tub
Tate: Ok Momma
Me: (toweling him off)
Tate: Brrr . . . . I am cold.
Me: Let's hurry and get dried off and put on your jammies, then you won't be cold
Tate: Momma, I think all the cold stuff from the fridge come up here and make me cold.
Me: (astonished) What?
Tate: The cold stuff in the fridge that makes stuff cold? Momma, IT came up HERE and make ME cold.
Me: (blink, blink)
Wow, how do you even respond to that?
Monday, March 2
A conversation with a 3-year old
Tate: Momma, how do you spell why?
Me: W-H-Y
Tate: How do you spell YMCA?
Me: Y-M-C-A
Tate: No momma, how do you SPELL YMCA?
Me: That is how you spell YMCA - Y-M-C-A.
Tate: NO MOMMA! HOW DO YOU SPELL YMCA?
Me: (sigh)
Me: W-H-Y
Tate: How do you spell YMCA?
Me: Y-M-C-A
Tate: No momma, how do you SPELL YMCA?
Me: That is how you spell YMCA - Y-M-C-A.
Tate: NO MOMMA! HOW DO YOU SPELL YMCA?
Me: (sigh)
Wednesday, February 11
A conversation overheard at a birthday party . . .
(Tate runs by holding a toy power drill, chasing his friend)
Brandon: Tate, come here. What is that? What are you doing?
Tate: Its a screw thing. I fix him, Daddy.
Brandon: That's not nice, buddy. You need to stop.
Tate: (moves to chase said friend)
Brandon: Are you listening? What did I just say to you?
Tate: You said it's not nice to screw people.
I think he may win father of the year . . . .
Brandon: Tate, come here. What is that? What are you doing?
Tate: Its a screw thing. I fix him, Daddy.
Brandon: That's not nice, buddy. You need to stop.
Tate: (moves to chase said friend)
Brandon: Are you listening? What did I just say to you?
Tate: You said it's not nice to screw people.
I think he may win father of the year . . . .
Wednesday, January 7
Hey! There's no circus around here
Tate has a favorite story called "Frank was a Monster Who Wanted to Dance". We have read this story so many times that he knows it, and can recite it, word for word, with or without the book. When he uses the book, he knows exactly which words go with which pages. Subsequently, I know it and can recite it word for word, with or without the book. I decided I wanted to record him reading it so I could forever capture the way he says things like "one-eyed glance" (phoenetically - gla-yance) and "I might be a monster, but man can I da-yance". What I didn't know was that I would also capture the first time he busts out his new phrase. A phrase for which I have no idea where he learned it, and from the best I can decipher, means "Momma, stop helping me with the words"
What do you think it means?
What do you think it means?
From the mind of a 3 year old
Picture this: it was the morning after I took down all the Christmas decorations; the process of which happened almost entirely after the kids went to bed. It was a typical morning. We had breakfast, got dressed, then went to the gym. It wasn't until we returned from the gym that Tate noticed that some of the smaller, decorative christmas trees in the living room were gone.
As we walked into the house, he furrowed his brow and his head tilted ever so slightly (imagine the same action as performed by a dog when you talk to them) as he looked at the empty space where the cluster of small trees once was. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like "let me check the other tree". He turned around and walked straight into the front living room where we kept the "big" Christmas tree.
It was then, while staring at the spot where this tree used to be, that he gasped and said: "MOM! THE GRINCH STOLE OUR CHRISTMAS TREES!"
As we walked into the house, he furrowed his brow and his head tilted ever so slightly (imagine the same action as performed by a dog when you talk to them) as he looked at the empty space where the cluster of small trees once was. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like "let me check the other tree". He turned around and walked straight into the front living room where we kept the "big" Christmas tree.
It was then, while staring at the spot where this tree used to be, that he gasped and said: "MOM! THE GRINCH STOLE OUR CHRISTMAS TREES!"
Sunday, November 23
A conversation with an almost 3-year old
Me: Do you remember your cousins' names?
Tate: There's Riley and Zach and Taylor and Marky B and, ummm, Livi
Me: What about Tanner?
Tate: Yeah, and Tanner.
Me: And who else?
Tate: And Bailee, and ummm, Ella and Superman
Me: Superman? How do you know who Superman is?
Tate: Umm, because he is my cousin
Tate: There's Riley and Zach and Taylor and Marky B and, ummm, Livi
Me: What about Tanner?
Tate: Yeah, and Tanner.
Me: And who else?
Tate: And Bailee, and ummm, Ella and Superman
Me: Superman? How do you know who Superman is?
Tate: Umm, because he is my cousin
Friday, November 7
A conversation with an almost 3-year old
Tate: Momma, put my pants on, pwease!
Me: Let me show you how to do it, then you can do it yourself.
Tate: OK Momma.
Me: Sit down. Now, put your right foot in. . . .
Tate: And then do the hokey-pokey and turn around?
Me: Let me show you how to do it, then you can do it yourself.
Tate: OK Momma.
Me: Sit down. Now, put your right foot in. . . .
Tate: And then do the hokey-pokey and turn around?
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