Tall teeth tales

So, it seems our little niece has been having some biting episodes of late. About two weeks ago Sherri sent me the first photo of Alexandra's daycare report detailing her incident. My favorite was the one with a note at the bottom stating "two more bites!" 

Brennan, ever the supportive brother, has been pulling for her since the first incident. In the evening when she picks up the kids from school, Sherri gets Brennan first and then they go to get Alexandra from her classroom. Brennan started off by saying, "Mom, maybe Alex had a good day today," and "I bet Alexandra got a sticker today!" Sadly, the incident reports are piling up and Brennan is not quite so positive these days. Last night when Sherri asked if he though Alex had a good day, he sighed and responded, "I don't know, mom. I doubt it." 

Alexandra, never one to really show remorse, is finally making an attempt to salvage her reputation. No, she's not cutting back on the biting—she's just trying to do some damage control. By lying.

Last night Brian picked up the kids from school, and when she got home, Sherri sat down by Alexandra and asked, "Alexandra, were you a good girl today?" Alex responded with an exuberant head nod, which abruptly stopped when Brian said, "Nooo ... I don't think so, Alexandra." At which point Alex turned to Sherri and said, "I bited." 

The biting, I should mention, is not necessarily unprovoked. I mean, if kids are going to push in line and put their feet up on Alexandra during story time,  then they need to be prepared to pay the price. Until she starts getting a little more respect in the classroom, I suspect there will be more "I biteds" to come. 

Score one for the aunt

For Easter this year, I gave Brennan one of our favorite books, Click, Clack, Moo: Cows that Type. Since he is such a fan of all things farming, I thought he would enjoy a story about cows who go on strike until they get electric blankets. I mean, really, though, who wouldn't enjoy such a tale? 

The book was a hit, so I bought a few more of Doreen Cronin's duck and cow books for the Jones kiddos. I may not buy a lot of toys for Brennan and Alexandra, or for our kids, for that matter, but I am a sucker when it comes to books. I take after my mother that way.  

Sherri told me on a few occasions that every time they read one of the books in this series, Brennan cracks up—guffaws, even—like it is the first time he has ever heard the story. Last night he told Sherri, "Mom, Aunt Debbie buys funny books. Why don't you buy funny books?" 

Nothing could have made me smile bigger. Chalk up one point for me, and one new book for B. Keep an eye out for an Amazon box, buddy. Flattery will get you all the books you can handle.  

Repair by Mary Clare

I replaced my hair dryer a few weeks ago. Correction: Chip replaced it after seeing that the circuit was exposed. I told him I was sure we could duct tape it, but he countered that for $15, it wasn't worth electrocuting myself. Or our daughter.*

Since the replacement hair dryer came to town, Mary Clare has been obsessed with what happened to its predecessor. Clearly, the fate of the old hair dryer is weighing on her, because it gets brought up almost every time I dry her hair. Last night's conversation was particularly entertaining.

MC: Mama, where is the other dryer?
Me: It broke, remember? So we got a new one.
MC: But what happened to it?
Me: Well, daddy and I couldn't fix it, so we threw it in the trash.
MC: But maybe you need to use a scroover.
Me: A what?
MC: A scroover.
Me: I'm sorry, honey, a what?
MC: A SCROOVER.
Me: Oh, a screwdriver.
MC: Yeah. And then you need to put the hammer on it.

Of course, I knew my dad would eat this up, so I suggested we call Papa Thole to verify that our plan was correct. He was only too happy to tell Mary Clare that yes, a scroover and a hammer were exactly what mommy and daddy should have used to fix the hair dryer. If only we had listened.

*I'm pretty sure Chip was mostly concerned about our daughter. We don't carry that much life insurance on me. That I know of, at least.

Five out of five teachers can't be wrong

Last night, Brennan caught Sherri looking at him. A little too long, apparently.

B: Mom, why are you looking at me?
S: Because you are so cute.
B: My teacher Miss Kelly says I am cute.
S: Does she say, "B, you are so cute?"
B: No, she doesn't tell me. But she tells all the other teachers how cute I am. But she doesn't say it about any of my friends. So I guess they aren't cute.

Hopefully Brennan will break the news to his non-cute friends gently.

Still alive, I promise

Oh, my. Has it really been two weeks since I posted? For shame, for shame. Let me tell you, once I slack off just the slightest bit in the photo and blog department, it is only a matter of time before I really start slacking off.

I have no excuses. None. Everyone in the Lindh household is just fine and dandy. Maybe that's part of the problem. With the slight reprieve from the heat and Charlie's ever-improving mobility (and stability), we've been filling our days with all sorts of fun. Swimming lessons, birthday parties, dinners with friends and trips to new parks, the zoo, science center, botanical gardens and Grant's Farm. It has been a good summer, and I'm determined to keep the fun going as long as I can. I know the kids are back in school, but as far as TB is concerned, it's still summer.

And so, without further ado, here is the dreaded Instagram update.

 [homemade blueberry/honey/yogurt popsicles that give you purple mustaches]

 [pondering stripes at grant's farm]

 [taking things to the next level]

 [boosting his immune system while big sister swims]

 [keeping the tile tidy]

 

 [and the deck]

 [and the play area at the botanical garden]

[chatting up the man in the moon]

So that's what's been going on around here. A lot of chewing (both edible and non-edible items), climbing, cleaning and charming the pants off their parents and strangers on the street. Pretty standard fare.

Oh, my and oh, no, but definitely not okay

Chip's cousin Erika, who happens to live one block down from us, invited us over to dinner last night since her dad, Chip's Uncle Mike, was in town from Chicago. I hate going anywhere empty handed, so I grabbed a bottle of red and hurriedly mixed up a batch of the infamous cava sangria as soon as I walked in the door from work.

As we walked down the sidewalk to the Ottolini's house, Mary Clare, who was temporarily on break from pushing her brother in the stroller, looked up and caught sight of the cocktail pitcher.

MC: What is that?
Me: It's a drink to bring to cousin Erika's house.
MC: But why you have it?
Me: When you go to someone's house, it's nice to bring them something.
MC: But what is it?
Me: It's mommy's favorite, cava sangria.
MC: [inaudible response]
Me: Mary Clare, did you say "Oh, my" or "Okay?"
MC: I said "Oh, no."
Me: [still not hearing/not wanting to hear] You said "Oh, my?"
MC: [yelling] I said, "Oh. NO!"
Chip: That's what daddy said, too.