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!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Shopping

Today we had to do some shopping.
We started at Target. I really love Target. He was pretty good when we got there. Today was his first shopping trip that he got to be outside of the cart. He's been too big for the seat for awhile, but his complete lack of self control made me hesitant to just let him hoof it. So, he's been riding down in the cart. Well now he's getting so big that if he's in the cart, there's not a whole lot of room for anything else.

So he was loose as a goose today.

Apparently he hasn't actually been paying attention to anything on the shelves for the last three years that he's been in the cart, because he found endless amazement down every aisle.

"Mom! They got tacos here! Just like on the commercial!"

Another discovery:

"Mom! I've never seen so much JAM! Lookit all this stuff for toast!"

It was aisle after aisle of fascinating wonders.

After the wonderment of Target we headed to Costco for a few things. And of course, delicious Costco pizza for lunch. Costco has bigger carts so naturally I assumed he was basket-bound when we got there, but after a taste of freedom he wasn't about to go back in the cart. We had a quick run down of the Walking Around Costco Rules.

"You stay right by Mom's cart, got it?"

"Got it."

He's the kind of kid who will try to climb the jungle gym display in the middle of the store if he breaks loose.

"You don't take anything off the shelf, got it?"

"Got it."

I'm already seeing hernias from lifting giant cans of corn, and smashed toes from dropping the aforementioned cans.

"You don't eat any snacks from the poufy-hat people unless Mom sees it first, got it?"

"Got it."

Those sample people like to poke food into cute little kids, hellooooooo allergic reaction.

In we went.

"UH, MOM. DID YOU SEE THAT TV? IT'S THE BIGGEST TV I'VE EVER SEEN! WHOA! LOOK AT ALL THOSE FURNITURES! LET'S GET SOME CHAIRS! THEY GOT TOYS HERE!"

So clearly he hasn't been paying attention when we've been at Costco either.

"Calm down, buddy, we don't need any of these things today. We have to keep rolling so we can get pizza."

"WHOA! What's down there?!" And he was gone, breaking Rule #1.

But he was right back, with merchandise in hand, breaking Rule #2.

"BATTERIES GALORE! MOM WE NEEDED THESE", he squawked as he chucked a billion-count package of double A's into the cart.

"HEY! THAT BOY'S GOT A SNACK, I WANT ONE!" And this is where I lost my cool, there's no way we were going to hit Rule #3 without some interception. I whipped out the Loud Mom Voice, to match his newly discovered Loud Kid Voice.

"FREEZE, GOPHER. No snacks, we're going to get pizza in a minute. And you don't know that lady. And you don't know what her snack is. It might have peanuts in it."

"It doesn't, Mom. I read the 'gredients, it said: No peanuts in this snack. Good for boys to eat."

What a little conniver!

"No dice, pal. It's lunch time, we're skipping snacks today."

Surprisingly enough he went on by, I think he was delirious from the excitement of experiencing Costco on foot.

We finished our shopping and headed over to get pizza at the food court, which was another round of new and exciting adventures.

"Mom! I can reach the straws here!" Perfect. How many fingers have been on that thing today?

"Please don't touch that germy straw holder."

"Mom! Look at that onion cranker! That thing stinks! That guy's putting stinky onions on his hotdog. Yuck." I'm hoping there was enough other noise that Onion Guy didn't hear him.

"Some people like onions, just cool it."

"MOM! They got video games here!" What?

Jon's "video games" were the pop and water vending machines, and here was an opportunity!

"Jon! if you're REALLY good, we can play the water game after we get pizza. Want to?!"

"YES! YES! HOW DO WE PLAY IT?!"

"First, you have to use your inside voice for the rest of the trip, and eat all of your pizza using good manners. Can you do that?"

"Yes, yes, I'm so excited," he said in an excited whisper.

I've never seen him eat so politely, and not a peep out of him. He just sat wide-eyed, staring at the "water game." When he was done I slid two quarters across the table to him.

"Are you ready to play the water game? You've been so good!"

"YES," he bellowed, followed by a whispered, "I mean, yes."

Off we went. Jon put in his quarters, giggling like a fiend, pushed D3, and down came the water.

That was probably the best fifty cents I have ever spent.

"IT CAME DOWN TO THIS PUSHER DOOR! CAN I HAVE IT? I GOT ONE, MOM! CAN WE TAKE IT HOME? I CAN PUT A STRAW IN IT!"

"Yes, honey, you can. Jon, how have you never seen this thing? We sit right by it every time we're at Costco. What do you do when you're in the cart and Mommy's buying stuff?"

"I just look at you, Mom. You're pretty."

Tears in my eyes at the food court! (And they weren't from smelling the stinky onion cranker.)
That little lunatic is such a sweetie pie, I bet I gave him a thousand kisses on the way out the door.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

I don't know where you are, but it's GORGEOUS where I am today, so we went outside. In a matter of two hours we (and by "we" I mostly mean "Jon"): Played with bubbles, played on the swing set, cleaned out the dog kennel, had our first tricycle-into-the-parked-automobile collision, played hockey (with a redneck hockey puck), nearly impaled the dog with a pitch fork, got scratched by the cat three times and rounded the morning out with a picnic.

Playing outside at our house pretty much always includes bubbles, Jon's NUTS about bubbles. In anticipation of this beautiful day, I bought a gigantic jug of bubbles and one of those bubble guns with a propeller on it. You'd be amazed at how much bubble solution you can burn through with one of those bad boys.

After bubble fun was over we headed for the swing set for the first time this year, and lo and behold! Jon's legs are long enough to reach the ground. I may never have to push a swing again. Jon was pretty psyched about being "gatnormous" as he put it.

"MOM. Lookit my legs! Them go all the way to the ground! I'm gatnormous!"

The bubbles and swing set time had gone off without a hitch and I was starting to feel pretty confident that maybe Jon was getting to the point that I could try to get some things done outside while he played and we wouldn't have a catastrophe of one kind or another.

So I thought I'd clean out the dog kennel. Which involves a hose. And a pitchfork. What the hell was I thinking?

It was going pretty well to start off with. I put Jon's helmet on him and got out his trike and he was having a hay day on the patio. Until he decided to go full speed into the side of the Tahoe that was sitting in the driveway.

All I heard was, "They call me Speed. That is my NAAAAAME!"

And then a crash and some wailing.

This was our first collision with the trike, and I know it sounds dumb to have a helmet on a three year old riding a little plastic trike in the driveway, but you haven't seen this kid in action.

He crashed into the back tire of the 'Hoe, the trike tipped and he somehow pinned himself under the trike, face down in the gravel. Luckily the helmet has a little visor on it and it kept him from doing a total face plant. He wasn't hurt, just scared and was ready to park the trike for a while and come help in the garage.

"Whoa, you got a big poker-thing, Mom."

"It's a pitchfork, I use it to get the straw out of Cody's dog house."

"Don't take out his hay! What's he going to eat? He needs that!"

"He eats dog food, Honey. He sleeps on the straw in the winter when it's cold. Now it's too hot for him to sleep on it."

"Oh. Can I use your big poker fork?"

"NO."

"Oh. Just kidding. Can I go through that little door?" Cody has an indoor/outdoor kennel with a swinging doggy door on it.

"NO. If Cody come from the other way he'll bonk into you and you'll get hurt." Cody is 85 pounds of muscle and bone.

"Oh. Just kidding. Is that my hockey stick?!" And he was off. Whew.

After whacking a whiffle ball around for a few minutes, it was decided that Jon really needed a puck. It's just not hockey without a puck. Of course I didn't have a puck to give him, so we had to improvise. This was one of those White Trash Mom moments that we all have.

Don't judge me.

Out of the sincere desire to entertain my child, I made a hockey puck out of an empty chew can filled with sand and wrapped in duct tape. Shut it, I was desperate.

And what was Jon doing while I was so masterfully crafting his custom puck? Well, he was "helping" with the pitchfork, of course.

I stepped outside the garage for less than 30 seconds to see if the puck would sail across the pavement and when I turned around there was Jon with the pitchfork stuck in the wall and poor Cody in the corner looking at me like, "You left me in here with this guy?!"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I SAID NO!"

"It's Ok, Mom, I'm just helping. See?" As he tries to wiggle the fork out of the wall.

"BOYS DON'T TOUCH PITCHFORKS. WHEN YOU'RE AS TALL AS MOMMY, THEN YOU CAN TOUCH A PITCH FORK, OK? NOT NOW."

"Oh. Ok. Look! The kitty is going through the dog door, I'm going to catch him!" And he bails through the dog door.

"I SAID DON'T GO THROUGH THE DOG DOOR!"

"It's ok, Mom! I got on my helmet!" Well , thank God for that I guess.

Back outside, he was entertained by the cat and the trike again for awhile and I finished up the kennel cleaning. I just had to wash out the dog bowls and I would be all done with chores and we could have a little picnic before nap time. I thought, "What a nice end to a sunny morning."

But washing the dog bowls meant getting out the hose. And Jon loves the hose more than he loves bubbles. Which is A LOT.

"The HOSE?! You're getting out the HOSE?! I LOVE THE HOSE, YAAAAAYYYYY!"

"Don't touch the hose. You know you aren't supposed to play with the hose." And I'm an idiot, because I then left the forbidden fruit laying in the driveway while I went in to get the dog bowls.

"Here kitty, want a drink?"

"THE KITTY DOESN'T WANT A DRINK! DO NOT GIVE THE KITTY A..." And then there was more wailing.

"He scratched meeeeee!"

"Well heck yes he scratched you, kitties don't like water!"

"He needed a driiiiink! It's hot todaaaaay He was thiirrrrrsteeee!"

"The kitty does not want to drink from the hose. Ever. Ok?"

"Ok." Sniff sniff.

"Do you want to have a picnic?"

"YES I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE PICNIC!" And the tears were gone.

We had turkey sandwiches, Cheetos and oranges on a blanket outside, with the dog lounging in his newly cleaned kennel and the cat lurking around waiting for picnic scraps.