I'm going to have to rename this blog "Eew! Gross! in Booland."
Because apparently the only events of note in my life lately are poop- or digestive- related.
Viz. to wit.: (I don't actually know what that means. But I think I'm using it here correctly.)
Renaissance Woman went away with some friends for the weekend, and Mermaid Girl and I babysat for 2-year-old Little Latke for four hours yesterday. This child, you might recall, was born to my friends at something like 25 weeks gestation, and had us all very scared. Well, hah! The joke was on us. She has gone on to be the easiest, most placid kid in the entire universe. She didn't even cry when her mom dropped her off; just turned to MG and me as if to say, "Well, okay now! Let's do something fun! Because everything is fun when you're me!"
She toddled merrily around the living room but made no attempts to get into any of the sharp or dangerous objects scattered about our no-longer-babyproofed house. She played willingly with whatever we dumped in front of her: rhythm instruments, blocks, train tracks (which she put together rather skillfully). But when MG started grabbing things and insisting that she needed ALL of the (trains, blocks, instruments, etc.) to do whatever project she suddenly decided needed doing, Latke just basically shrugged, smiled, and turned away to play with whatever tiny scrap of rag MG allotted to her. It was this bizarro playtime cage-match: The World's Most Territorial 6-year-old Meets The Only Non-Territorial Toddler Ever In Existence!
Whatever MG lacked in hostessy graciousness, however, she made up for in helpfulness in one crucial area. See, I was (and am) still sick, and can't smell anything. ANYTHING. And Little Latke, smiley and accomodating as she was, is not that verbal yet (beyond an ingratiating "crackoo pease!" at snacktime). And certainly not up to informing us of crucial bodily functions. And she was wearing a one-piece outfit that didn't allow for easy peeking.
Those of you who have had be-diapered kids around lately will see where this is going.
MG performed her job with courage and aplomb as I hoisted Little Latke to her feet. And all I had to do was look at her to know that Latke was due for a change.
I would give a lot of money for a photo of MG's face at that moment. It turns out that there's nothing quite like the expression of thrilled disgusted ecstatic horror on the visage of a 6-year-old who has just smelled the poop! of a baby! in diapers! Because her mom BEGGED her to!
In any case, I don't think we'll have much whining for a baby sibling in the future. Not that we've had any lately. But I think yesterday sealed the deal.
P.S. It's Moron Monday! Go tell Rachel (and the world) something dumb you did lately. Because I can't be the only one...can I?
Viz. to wit.: (I don't actually know what that means. But I think I'm using it here correctly.)
Renaissance Woman went away with some friends for the weekend, and Mermaid Girl and I babysat for 2-year-old Little Latke for four hours yesterday. This child, you might recall, was born to my friends at something like 25 weeks gestation, and had us all very scared. Well, hah! The joke was on us. She has gone on to be the easiest, most placid kid in the entire universe. She didn't even cry when her mom dropped her off; just turned to MG and me as if to say, "Well, okay now! Let's do something fun! Because everything is fun when you're me!"
She toddled merrily around the living room but made no attempts to get into any of the sharp or dangerous objects scattered about our no-longer-babyproofed house. She played willingly with whatever we dumped in front of her: rhythm instruments, blocks, train tracks (which she put together rather skillfully). But when MG started grabbing things and insisting that she needed ALL of the (trains, blocks, instruments, etc.) to do whatever project she suddenly decided needed doing, Latke just basically shrugged, smiled, and turned away to play with whatever tiny scrap of rag MG allotted to her. It was this bizarro playtime cage-match: The World's Most Territorial 6-year-old Meets The Only Non-Territorial Toddler Ever In Existence!
Whatever MG lacked in hostessy graciousness, however, she made up for in helpfulness in one crucial area. See, I was (and am) still sick, and can't smell anything. ANYTHING. And Little Latke, smiley and accomodating as she was, is not that verbal yet (beyond an ingratiating "crackoo pease!" at snacktime). And certainly not up to informing us of crucial bodily functions. And she was wearing a one-piece outfit that didn't allow for easy peeking.
Those of you who have had be-diapered kids around lately will see where this is going.
MG performed her job with courage and aplomb as I hoisted Little Latke to her feet. And all I had to do was look at her to know that Latke was due for a change.
I would give a lot of money for a photo of MG's face at that moment. It turns out that there's nothing quite like the expression of thrilled disgusted ecstatic horror on the visage of a 6-year-old who has just smelled the poop! of a baby! in diapers! Because her mom BEGGED her to!
In any case, I don't think we'll have much whining for a baby sibling in the future. Not that we've had any lately. But I think yesterday sealed the deal.
P.S. It's Moron Monday! Go tell Rachel (and the world) something dumb you did lately. Because I can't be the only one...can I?
posted by elswhere | 1:21 PM
3 Comments:
Laughing. "Thrilled disgusted ecstatic horror" exactly sums it up. LG loooooooves to tattle on Baby Blue's dirty diapers. It makes him such a big kid, you know?
hahaha~ when you tell them to smell the diaper, they don't know they are supposed to smell *sparingly*
hahaha!
hi elswhere,
long time no comment (three under 6 are keeping me too busy to live/breathe/blog read...you get the picture)
so. very appropriate description viz 6-yr-old checking diaper but I must share with you and other commenters the delightful picture of my 2-yr-old Lowell:
a) checking Elmo's "diaper" (until this afternoon extant only in said 2-yr-old's imagination) by pushing his nose into Elmo's red nether regions
b) fetching one of his own diapers from the diaper bag
c) fetching wipes from diaper bag
d) doing exactly the right sort of actions with diaper and wipes
e) placing Elmo to (his own) breast
f) saying cheerfully "All none!" (read "all done" -- that's Lowlish, not
English) and switching Elmo to the other side to continue nursing
g) ending with a cuddle and a kiss
brilliant boy.
The other half of my comment is to wish you and yours a speedy continued recovery and healthiness as we have had three out of five family members down with stomach flu (just waiting on the other two) PLUS a puking dog which, if I may say, cleverly imitates and combines your last three blog posts. You see -- I really want to be you!!
xo
aka Marina
p.s. yes, Bihari WILL be near that other blogger, who, as we may guess is DELIGHTED at the prospect!!
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