Small little catch-up post. I’ll start with the newest, ’cause it’s the cutest.
Monkey draws an Email
I had forwarded Alex a link to the 9 funniest “Damn You, Autocorrect!” moments of 2011, which she was reading on her phone while I was mounting a TV to the wall. She was working up a pretty good laugh about it all, and I could hear that the monkey was pretty interested in what was so funny. “I’m just reading an email daddy sent me,” she told him.
A short while later, we’re upstairs. I’m inspecting my handiwork (The $25 IKEA wall mount is… sketchy… Just pay the $80 for a sturdier one made from steel) and Alex taps me to draw my attention toward my son. He holds up a piece of paper (a warranty details sheet) with some pencil scribbles on it.
“I drew you an email, daddy!” he said.
Awesome… just awesome. Words can’t describe how cool that little guy is.
Pee and Poo
To make a long story short: one day I cracked up at his use of the words “pee” and “poo”. I admit to being somewhat co-conspiratorial since they’re not really “bad” words.
“We’re silly boys, daddy! Because we say ‘pee’ and ‘poo’!”
“Yes we are,” I replied. “We’re funny boys because we say ‘poo’ and ‘pee’!”
It would feel dishonest if I didn’t admit there was a whole “poo” and “pee” song that we made up to go with it. I’m such a child sometimes.
You can guess the rest, but I’ll tell you anyhow. He can’t stop saying these two words, because he (OK, both of us) loved that “insider club” feeling of laughing about those words. At the dinner table. In polite company. In public. And especially when he gets overtired and hyper. I’ve tried reining it back in for the sake of poor mama monkey, but the damage is clearly done. Just going to have to ride out this storm until he gets old enough to say “p*ss” and “sh**” instead.
Endured the lineup at St. Laurent mall so that the monkey could see Santa. Last year he was as fearful and nervous as he very well should have been. This year we brainwashed him into thinking it was OK to sit on a jolly stranger’s lap. He had a great conversation with Santa, talking about all kinds of toys. Mostly what he wanted was a “monster truck”. (If any relatives are reading this, I suspect Santa will be getting him one, so no need for you to do the same… unless you want to get me one; I won’t argue).
So, we’re officially into the “he knows what Christmas is from a commercial and Santa Claus point of view” zone, which will last for what… another… 8 years? I don’t really remember. It’s pretty cute to see him excited, even if it’s not in the spirit of giving.