Noodle Boy is a nickname my son had when he was a tiny guy and I started this blog. His nickname changes all the time. (Don't worry, we keep his real name the same.) He is completely awesome. Read on and see for yourself!

Sunday, December 19, 2010

What's in a name?

I know now after reading countless articles on raising children that it's best to teach children to refer to their body parts by the correct biological name and not to "nickname" body parts. This will only cause confusion for the child later in life and should be avoided at all costs.


Unfortunately I didn't pick up on that until we'd already renamed several of his body parts. Jon didn't know that toes were indeed called toes until he heard the song "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes." He has spent the majority of his life thinking those things on the ends of his feet were called pigs.
Button=Belly button (He also thinks his nipples are "buttons" there's no convincing him otherwise)
And then of course there's his willy. Now I know I'm not the only parent who does not refer to their child's private parts by their biological names. Give me a break, every family has their own name for "penis" because it's just too weird to hear your child say it. He casually refers to it now and then but over all there's not a whole lot of willy-talk. And it's really not a big deal, I mean how often are you talking about it with your three year old unless there's a trip to the bathroom involved?

Well, if your part of our family your talking about it a lot lately.

Because it just so happens that Jon's allergist is named, and I kid you not, Dr. Willey.

My heart sank when we were at the pediatrician's office and he gave me a list of allergists and said the one on the top was the best in town. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I set up the appointment and just decided I'd play it cool and not mention the new doctor's name out loud around Jon.

Appointment day rolled around and we strolled into the office and I very quietly tell the receptionist that we were there to see Dr. Wiley hoping that she wasn't going to correct me and say "Willey." She didn't. Whew.

So the nurse took us back to the exam room and checked us in and said, "The doctor will be in shortly." Excellent! Dodged another "Willey" bullet!

And theeeennnnn, Dr. Willey came in.

Jon was laying under my chair looking at a book.

"Hi," he stuck his hand out to shake mine, and then it came out, "I'm Dr. Willey"

And I just froze.

Jon shot out from under my chair, all grins and giggles.

"UH, MOM?!" He started with the sideways thumb point, and I was sure his head was going to explode at hearing another adult not just say the word"willy" but to be named that.

And then THANK GOD my phone rang and I got to be embarrassed by that, and not my kid going into hysterics over the unfortunately named doctor.

I'd get that changed if it were me.

Fortunately the good doctor was patient with my phone call since it was my husband asking about the appointment, and Jon's attention span is pretty nonexistent so he was trying to dismantle the exam table by the time I was off the phone and had forgotten all about Dr. Willey's name being willy.

We left with an Epi-pen and a sucker and without offending the doctor. It really ended a lot better than I thought it would.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Your Frickin' Voilet

I am a terrible plant person. I try to grow them and I can't. In a pot, in the ground, it's no matter I WILL kill it. I got a basket of tiny potted plants a while back and they are of great interest to Jon, we've never had plants in the house since he's been around.

Every couple of days I check the basket for casualties, and they've actually been doing pretty well considering that I'm the one caring for them. About once a week I stew about them: Do they need plant food? I thought they made their own food. Should I put them in different pots? People always talk about re-potting. Do they need more sun? Less sun?

It's clear I don't know what the hell I'm doing.

Jon's always pretty fired up on plant care day.
"Those guys need drinks, Mom."
"Your plants are beautiful today"
"You got seaweeds in that basket?"

I checked the basket today, and to my dismay it was filled with soggy oyster crackers. With no doubts in my mind about the responsible party I tracked Jon down and asked him in not so many words what the hell the crackers were doing in the plants.

"I gived those guys some plant food, Mom. They like crackers. Tomorrow I give them pineapple."

I patiently explained that plants don't eat people food and thanked him for his concern.

"I can pull those seaweeds if you want."

I patiently explained that there were no weeds of any kind in the basket and we didn't need to pull ANYTHING out of it.

"What kinds of plants those are then?"

I don't know the names of the plant-type plants but there is a teeny pot of flowers that I'm pretty sure are African violets.

When I told this to Jon his response was: "I LOVE your frickin' violet, Mom! It's beautiful!"

AFrican violet.
AFRICAN violet.
Not FRICKIN' violet, kiddo.