Flip This House

The kids have officially traded rooms. The boys are sleeping in Abbie's room, surrounded by pastel butterflies, and huddled on her twin-size bed. Abbie is sleeping in the boys' room, surrounded by dinosaurs, and stretched out in the top bunk of their beds while the bottom bunk remains empty. I really wanted to reclaim Abbie's room as my study, too.

You Need to Be a Parent, Not a Friend

We took the kids to a fast food playground for lunch today. It's been too cold for the kids to go outside or even wander near the windows in our house, so it was good to give the kids a chance to run around. Plus it had been so long since our last fast food trip I didn't know what kind of toy they'd get with their meal.*

Abbie was playing with another girl. When the two wandered near us, Abbie turned to the girl, pointed at mommy, and said, "that's my best friend."

Abbie has an infatuation with mommy and clearly prefers her. This fact doesn't really hurt my feelings; sure, I'm the one who spent almost every waking second with her for the first three years of her life, but maybe she's just sick of me after all that together time. My main complaint over this preference is she throws a tantrum every time mommy leaves for work, leaving Abbie vulnerable to daddy's tyranny of strictly limited TV and snacks.

We don't know why this preference developed. Despite being a little freer with TV and snacks, mommy tends to be harsher on Abbie than I am. I usually let her do what she wants around the house as long as she doesn't bother me or break something/one. Mommy is stricter about her attitude, not letting her get away with the crankiness or rudeness that I might not notice. Maybe a couple extra viewings of Sleeping Beauty is all it takes to become Abbie's best friend.

*They got small plush dogs. I wish they could get some sort of toy vehicle with every meal instead. They didn't care for these dogs, as evidenced by the fact that they barely fought over them before going back to playing with their toy vehicles.

Fight!

The kids fight over toys. That's okay; I expected that.

The kids fight over beds. They have to battle to determine which child gets to sleep in which bed. That's okay; they seem to have finally settled on bed assignments.

The kids fight over the potty. That one I never saw coming. I had to break up a fight tonight because Tory wanted to use the potty, and Abbie was already sitting on it. The worst part is Abbie didn't need to actually use the potty, she just didn't want Tory using it.

Only 15 years until they're out of the house.

Potty Problems

We're still potty training the boys. I'm still doing a load of laundry a day, but they may be starting to get the idea. Tonight Tory asked to use the potty three times, and actually peed every time. That's the first time either boy has asked to use the potty, and then actually deposited something. Tory seemed especially excited when he realized he could delay bedtime by asking to use the potty. If I can convince him that bedtime is always imminent, he may never have another accident.

Avenue Q

Abbie has preschool homework now, which means I have preschool homework. That's okay, I could stand looking at bright colors after staring at dense law books all day.

Every Thursday, Abbie has to bring three things that begin with her letter. The thing can be a tangible object, a picture she (I) found, or a picture she (I) drew. Her letter for this week is "Q." Obviously I should be thrilled that she's starting with the advanced letters instead of a simple common letter.

Since we don't have anything in this house that begins with a "Q" and fits into a preschooler's backpack, I used the computer. I asked Abbie to give me Q words, and I found pictures of them on the Internet using Google's image search. She learned about words that started with Q. I learned not to let a preschooler see unfiltered image search results.

Abbie's first suggestion was "queen." I quickly found a picture of Queen Elizabeth. I also found several photos of Freddie Mercury.

Abbie suggested "quiet," and I found a lovely picture of a girl saying "quiet."

Abbie suggested "car," and I suggested she keep trying.

Abbie left to play with a board game, and I suggested we take a break.

I suggested "Quetzalcoatl," but realized her teachers would know she had parental help with that one.

Abbie suggested "quilt," and I found many pictures of quilts.

With three items, I placed them all on a single page in Word, and printed them out. Now Abbie can ace her first set of homework. I look forward to next week's letter. Maybe Z?

Bad Sign

On my way to pick up the boys from preschool today, I passed one of their classmates in the hall.

"Tory pooped!" she exclaimed.

I braced myself and entered the boys' room. Their carpet cleaner was in full gear, sounding like a flock of humming birds. Both boys had pooped and taken off their pants. Ian had apparently stepped in it, so he we're gets to wear new shoes tomorrow.

I was a little surprised when their preschool said they were up for potty training. This is why. Hopefully they'll be a little better by the end of the week.

Silence!

In response to Amy's comment:

Abbie also tells us to stop talking, except she isn't as polite. She will not tolerate anyone (besides her) singing along with a song. When we're in the car, and I try singing along with a song, she screams, "You stop that!" She'll repeat herself until I do stop that. Occasionally she'll also add "It's Elmo's turn!"

"Da ... da ... da ... D'att!"

Abbie has learned our first names. At first it was cute that she'd walk up to me and say "What's your name? Matt!" It's somewhat less cute now that she tries to get my attention by yelling "Matt!"

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time...

We're potty training the boys again. This time we really mean it. We've tried a few times, and given up when we couldn't get much success. This time we're determined to stick with it until the boys are potty trained, or we run out of laundry detergent.

Today was another day without much success. It was a day much like any other day, except that I frequently changed underwear instead of diapers. Early this afternoon Ian pooped in his underwear. I took them off, cleaned him up, and sent him to his room to grab another pair of underwear. I finished cleaning his dirty clothes, and went to his room to see if he'd dressed himself yet. Ian was still naked, but had finished a different job as he'd left a giant poop outside of his room.

Mommy has been following potty training advice, and remembered that potty training children are supposed to help clean their messes. She suggested I make Ian clean the poop he left. I agreed, handed Ian a wad of toilet paper, and told him to carry the poop to the potty. Somewhat surprisingly, he complied. He wrapped the mess in the paper, carried it into the bathroom, and dropped it into the potty. Great job.

As Ian watched the poop hit the potty, he must have realized that was one of the most disgusting things he'd ever done. Ian promptly puked his lunch all over the bathroom.

I decided I shouldn't make Ian clean this mess. Mommy stripped him down, and sent him to his room to pick out new clothes. I cleaned up the new mess, and committed myself to a long struggle ahead.