Sort of a "boyoing", I suppose?

"What sound does caffeine make daddy?"

"Um... What?"

"You said caffeine wakes you and mommy up."

(slightly) more bathroom stories

"What's that box daddy?"

The metal box in question was attached to the bathroom stall wall.

"I'm not sure." I lifted the angled lid and saw it was empty, but had a slot at the bottom. Instructions were printed on the underside of the lid on how to load the box... with maxi pads.

"What are the instructions for?"

"I don't know, it doesn't say..." I lied.

"Maybe the box is for holding books." Kiernan decided.

"Probably!" I agreed as we flushed, exited, and double-checked that there were in fact urinals in the bathroom.

Like a soap dispenser?

I can't imagine what it is like to overhear some of the conversations coming out of the stalls in public washrooms which contain Kiernan and myself.

"I peed."
"Okay, so you're done?"
"No, I need to poo."
"Okay. Go ahead."
I cringe as the over-dramatic grunting sounds begin. Luckily, these don't last long for once.
"It's not working."
"So you're done."
"No, I still need to poo."
"Okay, try some more."
"Help me daddy!"
"Uh, help you how?"
"Push down on my head!"
"Um. Who told you that pushing down on your head helps you go to the bathroom?"
"I told myself."
"I don't think that actually helps."
"Yes it DOES."
"Okay okay." I acquiesce.

What do you know, it apparently does help.

Touch the Interactivity! FEEL it!

Museums these days have a ton of interactivity - knobs to turn, touchscreens to touch, doors to open, costumes to try on, fish to measure, shells to fondle - children often get bored if they're not forced to do something other than stare at exhibits.

We now have a family pass to the newly-renovated Canadian Museum of Nature, also known to Kiernan alternately as "The Dinosaur Museum" or the "Castle Museum". Kiernan got to go there three times in the span of a week, two of those times with me. The second time we went, Kiernan dragged me over to a display in the Mammal Gallery, talking about how humans are mammals too.

Four doors sat closed on an inclined display, the first of which Kiernan flipped up, revealing a small cupboard containing a mass of hair. "Feel this daddy!" he said, so I did as I read the explanation to him how humans have hair and that's like the fur and hair of animals.

The far right panel had a picture of teeth on it, and I wondered what sort of display was beneath - actual teeth? But sadly it was just a mirror, and I explained "You're supposed to smile to show your teeth in the mirror because mammals have teeth." We both grinned at our reflections.

The door second from the left was Kiernan's next choice - A heat-sensing pad that changed colours when you touched it showed that humans are warm blooded. "Touch this daddy!" Kiernan demanded, and I did, though it wasn't as impressive as Hypercolour shirts were in the 90s.

The final panel, second from the right, read "Human babies breast feed when young". I thought "Okay, what's going to be under this panel?" until Kiernan flipped it up and I said "Ah, of course."

There lay a single felt breast nestled in its cubby beneath the door. "Look daddy! Touch this daddy!" Kiernan began poking at the boob.

"Yeah, that's okay, you feel it."

"DADDY. You have to touch it!" he demanded, getting louder.

"Okay okay okay." I prodded the breast.

"Touch it here!" he pinched at the bulbous areola sewn in the middle.

"Let's go around to the other side and see how hot you are on the the heat sensing camera"

"TOUCH IT DADDY!"

I reached out and quickly gave it quick pinch. "Yup, that's great, Kier."

"Does it feel cool?"

"For sure." I agreed, because these days tweaking muppet nipples is the epitome of cool.

11:09am

Kiernan, feeling somewhat better, has been packed away to Gramma and Grandpapa's for three days.

The babies are with my parents until tonight.

What, you thought it was going to be crazy baby liveblogging all day? So sorry, I've got stuff to do. :)

Don't worry, the nighttime adventures may hold more drama...

7:40am: Here we go

Despite being sick for the past two days and barely eating anything, Kiernan announced he needed to go to the bathroom five times in a half hour period. After three bites of oatmeal he declared he was full and lay down on a pillow on the floor.

It was obvious what was coming, so I wasn't too shocked when the three bites back back up all over the floor.

6:45am: I suppose technically this is sleeping in.

I saw Lara to the door at 4am, after Quinn decided to wake up. He nursed, so perhaps this meant he would sleep in?

Kiernan, who even at 3 takes after his mother in the "let me sleep one more more minute" department, wandered into our room to announce it was time to get up at quarter to seven.

... woo...

In 12 hours, Lara will be boarding a plane to New York to attend Blogher.

At least at that time I will be awakened by one or more yelling babies. I will stumble downstairs to make coffee, turn on the computer, and begin...

The left-alone-for-three-days-with-unweaned-babies liveblog!

yayyyy...

Bedtime stalling, part eleventy seven

"I don't want to go to bed."
"Well, it's time for bed."
"I'm afraid of monsters that are real!"
"Well that's good! Since you know they aren't real, that means you aren't afraid."
"Um... I'm afraid of the bad guys."
"There aren't any bad guys in our house."
"I'm afraid of the bad guys from grammie's house!"
"There are bad guys there?"
"The bad guys are in the sky... and they fly in and out."
"I don't think so."
"Um. Maybe..... one... two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen years ago they were at grammie's house."
"I'm sure they're long gone by now then."

Child, those are not synonyms.

Occasionally Kiernan will announce, in a voice filled with innocent awe, that something is beauuutiful.

"That full moon is beautiful!"
"I coloured a beauuuutful flower!"
"Juliette's pyjama bottoms are beauuuuuuutiful!"

Today Lara explained to me that he had announced that things aren't beautiful, they are in fact "cool". I blame the douche-canoe older boys at daycare for this.

"Kiernan, don't you think mommy looks beautiful?"
"No, she looks cool."
"But really, she's beautiful."
"Daddy, I don't say beautiful, I say cool."
"Did someone at daycare tell you not to say beautiful?"
"Yes."
"Who told you to say cool?"
Kiernan leaned in close and whispered, "It's a secret."

Later on the drive home, the discussion resumed.
"You're allowed to say beautiful, you know. You don't have to listen to other boys who tell you not to say it."
"Okay."
"So now you can tell mommy she's beautiful."
"No, she's cool!"
"Okay, yes, alright. Mommy is cool AND beautiful."
"No! She's cool!"
"She's both."
"Daddy, are you cool?"
I sighed. "Okay, how about this. You can say boys are cool, and you can say girls are beautiful."
"Okay. Can we listen to your songs?"
"Which CD do you want, Magneta Lane or theStart?"
"I want a cool CD."
"Both are cool."
"I want Magneta Lane. Turn it LOUD."
Halfway through the first song he yelled "Daddy!"
I turned the volume down. "Yes?"
"Is this your cool music?"
"Yes it is!"
"Then why are there girls singing?"

Orange you glad...

"I have a joke."
"Okay, what's your joke?"
"What did the popcorn eat for lunch?"
"I don't know, what did the popcorn eat?"
"Popcorn!"
"The popcorn ate popcorn?"
"Yes, the popcorn eats popcorn with no eyes and no mouths and no hands."
"Cannibalistic popcorn then."
"And the popcorn eating has eyes and a big mouth eating the popcorn."
"So it's a visual joke, then."
"Yup."
"Good one."
"I have other jokes."
"Oh yeah, like what?"
"Um, what did the rice eat for lunch?"
"Popcorn?"
"No! Other rice, with no hands and no eyes and no mouths and no hair."
"The rice who is eating has hair?"
"Yup. And eyes and a mouth to eat the other rice."
"Well, that's good, hairy rice wouldn't taste good."
"Yup... Um... What did the juice eat for lunch?"
"I don't know, what did the juice eat for lunch?"
"Chairs."
"Chairs?"
"Yup."

Bathtime.

"My hands are all pruny!"

"Yup! You had a nice long bath."

"Next time I have a bath, I need finger boots."

Open Letter to Apple

Dear Apple,

Your iPod Touch is so simple, even a child could use it.

My 3-year old, who has not yet learned to read, can hit the power button, slide his finger across the screen, intuitively dragging the arrow button and unlocking the device.

He can then flick left to right through pages of my apps. He can then push and hold his finger on the screen just a little too long, causing all the icons to vibrate, which then allows him to drag them this way and that, rearranging them as he pleases in his attempts to click into a game.

His little fingers are the perfect size to hit the Xs which appear on each icon in this mode, and then apparently to tap to agree to the deletion of the app selected.

The row of five stars then shown to him was not especially interesting to him, as he only gave 2 stars to Doodle Jump, a game which I only recently realized was missing.

Repetition

Last night at dinner, Kiernan was asking for translations of words into French. Then he suddenly switched from single words to the following phrase:

"How do you say 'I'm all done my potatoes'?"
"Je suis finis mes patates" I replied.
"Shuh fees patates?"
"Je suis finis mes patates"
"Je shee fee patates!"
"Je suis finis mes patates" I said slowly.
"Shuh shees feemay patates Mommy!" he called into the other room.
After about two more attempts I gave up trying to push the enunciation.

Later in the car, he calls from the back "Why did she just say 'take advantage of our low sale prices', daddy?"
"Okay, how come you can repeat something you hear on the radio - with three-syllable words in it no less - instantly after hearing it, but not a French sentence repeated to you 17 times?" As I asked this I noticed the next radio commercial beginning and switched the station before the subject of the ad was repeated for the fourth time in a row.

Kiernan, of course, immediately asked "Sex-a-palooza?"
"What's that, I didn't hear you?" I feigned ignorance.
"What's Sappapalooza?"
"Say again?"
"Sappa loooza!"
"Oh! I don't know what that is."

That's a good question!

Before the holidays, there was a led-encrusted wreath hanging on a garage in the neighbourhood. It was hung from two smaller similarly-decorated wreaths, forming a V. Kiernan's reaction when seeing it: "Daddy daddy look! Mickey Mouse Christmas lights!"

Fast-forward to the other night, driving him home from daycare.

"Daddy, where is the Mickey Mouse lights?"
"I'm not sure, ev-"
"NO DADDY! You have to say 'That's a good question!'"
"Um. Why?"
"DADDY! You have to say it!"
"That's a good question!"
A pause.
"You have to say it now daddy."
"I did!"
"NO! You have to say where the Mickey Mouse lights are!"
"Oh. Everyone's taking their lights down because it's after christmas!"
"But why?"
"You only need christmas lights up for christmas, and now that it's over, you don't need them."
"NO! You need to say 'That's a good question!'"
"That's a good question. Christmas is over. No more lights."
"Okay."

The drive continued for almost a minute as I waited for the inevitable, preparing the proper response...

"Daddy?"
"Yes, Kiernan."
"NO DADDYYYYY! Say 'That's a good question!'"
"Dude. That isn't even a question." I said patiently, "That's a demand for my attention. And if this sort of request continues, I can tell it's going to get old REAL quick."
"Why?"
(deep breath) "That's a good question."

Leo

This is Leo.
Leo is a wall decal bought last spring, but didn't make it up onto Kiernan's wall until a two-parent, three-hour session in September. Kiernan has a love of monsters, but on the rare occasion that scary monsters are involved, I tell a story about how monsters are afraid to come into the room because Leo swings down and repeatedly kicks them until they jump out the window. It doesn't matter that Leo is barefoot, he kicks that much monster ass.

Lately, the stalling techniques at bedtime are getting more desperate. Kiernan called me back into his room approximately zero seconds after I closed the door.

"Daddy, I just had a dream."
"I doubt that highly - you haven't even fallen asleep."
"I had a bad dream. Um.... about monsters."
"Ah, well, you know very well that monsters are afraid to come into your room because they don't want to get kicked in the head by Leo."
"Oh. Right."
"Goodnight, Kiernan."
"But Daddy!"
*sigh* "Yes, Kiernan?"
"Um.... Leo's just a sticker."

In his tiny light-up shoes...

Kiernan discovered that turning on the Playstation starts playing the WALL-E DVD within, but doesn't know what to do if the video mode of the TV is not on the right input. This of course means I keep finding the system on, whirring away after who knows how long.

WALL-E went missing last week. We still couldn't find it after tearing the basement apart packing boxes for the big move.

Tonight I thought to myself, "If I was Kiernan, and the WALL-E DVD wasn't playing, even after ejecting it and reloading, powering off and on, and perhaps even covering the disc with fingerprints, what would the next logical step for a three year old be?"

Sure enough, I found the WALL-E DVD slid all the way into the VCR.

Good thing he's not self-conscious.

At a recent birthday party, Kiernan announced "I meedta do to the bathroom!" Upon discovering the powder room was occupied, we decided to wait. Then another kid announced they had to go. We were told by the parents of the birthday boy to feel free to go to the upstairs washroom.

"I'll show you where it is!" declared the birthday boy's older sister.

"That's okay, I know where-" I trailed off as the four year old was already halfway up the stairs.

"Um, thank you!" I said as we walked into the room.

"This is my toothbrush. I need to brush my teeth because I got cavities." She didn't budge from her position by the sink.

"I need to peeeee!" Kiernan insisted, so onto the toilet he went.

"Brushing your teeth is important for sure!" I said as Kiernan seemed to finish up. "All done Kier?" I asked.

"No I need to poo." he began grunting, because obviously vocalization helps the sphincter along.

"Sometimes I have trouble pooing too" the girl announced.

"Uh-huh." I replied.

"I'm all done!" Kiernan stood up while I grabbed some toilet paper.

"Why is his winky -- my mommy calls my brother's penis his winky -- um, why is his winky red?"

I saw no redness. I was confused. Lara pointed out later that being half-Filipino, perhaps the birthday boy's darker skin wasn't as pink, relatively speaking. At the time, I was at a loss for words. Kiernan was oblivious.

"Want to see my room?"

"That is a fantastic idea."

Got to work on the verb/noun differentiation

After getting home and unloaded the babies' car seats into the front hall, I remarked how hot it was in the house and removed my jacket before going back grab stuff from the van. Kiernan was jumping out from the back seat when his yelled announcement echoed through the neighbourhood:

"Daddy took off his dress!"

"Um. No. You get dressed in clothing, not in dresses. Although girls can wear dresses. Some boys do too, but those are kilts. But let's simplify: Daddy took off his clothes. Um, but don't yell that either."

More fun word misinterpretation:

Sometimes Lara has a slight bit of trouble getting up in the morning after dealing babies who decide 3am is the perfect time to be wide awake. All the kids were up and getting a bit bored/cranky/demanding, so I sent Kiernan upstairs to wake mommy up. Kiernan returned soon after saying "Mommy says two more minutes."

Soon enough, Kiernan was sent on a return expedition to let her know ten minutes had passed. He came back down and said "Mommy's not done lying yet."

The question arises: Did she lie about only needing two more minutes, or is she just lying down?

Melodrama

Lara and the kids were up at my parents' cottage all week, and Friday was her birthday. We were lucky enough to get babysitting so we were to go to see Harry Potter and grab a late dinner.

The time span needed to leave work, drive to the cottage, grab Lara and get to the theater was slim, so Kiernan had only a brief amount of time seeing me as we ate cake (before dinner, I might add). My parents distracted him from our leaving by saying he could watch one of his DVDs with the giant stuffed bear.

"Gasp!" I gasped (gaspingly), "Bears can't watch TV!"

As we got into the car, my mother called up to me. Apparently Kiernan was quite upset, yelling "I'm! Talking! To! Daddy!". I needed to go back to the kitchen to find out what's wrong. I hiked back to the door and asked what he would like to say to me.

"The bear CAN watch TV, Daddy!"

"Oh! Okay then!" This sufficed enough to get back out the door.

With that drama overcome, we drove off. Five minutes later we decided to phone back to the cottage to remind my parents that the twins needed medicine before they went to bed. I was informed that Kiernan had been crying because he had forgotten to tell me something. He was put on the phone:

"Hi daddy."

"Hi, what did you want to say to me?"

"Um. What did I want to say to you?"

"I don't know, what have you been crying about?"

"Um. Oh. DON'T GO DADDY!"

"Oh, was that it?"

"Ya. Bye."