Scrambled Thoughts III

1.  Marshmallows are not good.

But, in a moment of weakness, I was pushing my grocery cart past the little sticky fluffs and, after a plea from my littlest red-headed companion, I noticed for the first time how inexpensive they actually are.  10 bags for $10?  I can get SEVEN!  It wasn't until I lugged all 7 bags into the house (actually... is it possible to lug marshmallows?) that my moment of weakness passed.  Then my left eyebrow raised at the bags and I panicked for four seconds before I concluded it was not possible for me to be pregnant... and the only other excuse I could think of was that I had been emotionally altered by having all three children tagging along with me that morning.  We put the bags to good use over the next few days, though.    Making marshmallow houses,

surprising Daddy with a marshmallow fight after work,

and, of course, roasting them over our campfires. 

(Yes, that is a strawberry.  We were feeling a bit creative.)
PS - Perfectly Golden Roasted Marshmallows are not marshmallows.  Like I said: marshmallows are not good.  Perfectly Golden Roasted Marshmallows are little heaven drops that melt on your tongue and force you to lick your fingers even when they're caked in camping dirt.  You won't get me to eat a marshmallow from a sterilized silver platter, but I will pick up and eat a Perfectly Golden Roasted Marshmallow from the dirt at my feet.

2. My daughter is embarrassed by my fashion sense

"Mom, why are you wearing socks that don't match your outfit?  At all?"

Well played, little one.  Well played.  I'm frequently suggesting that she alter her outfit a bit because of matching problems.

It's fine...  I don't mind that she dished it back...  I can taste a bit of my own medicine...  If you see these blue socks in the garbage, it's not because I was embarrassed.  I'm 30.  I don't get embarrassed anymore... ahem.  Moving on.

3. Checkers is fun

 It's not so fun when you're coaching your son while he's playing against his big sister and you realize that his big sister might beat you.  Him.  I mean, him. She might beat him.  She wouldn't beat you. She's only 8. And you're 30. 30 year olds don't lose checkers to 8 year olds...oh boy.  This blog post is not going well.

4. Miles thinks he owns the world.  And he kind of does.

Terrible twos are in full swing with this one.  This is the face he gives when he's telling me that my plans are not going to work for him.  "No," he says, "I not go to time out.  I go outside."  Bad news for me: I have much less energy with this one than I did with the other two, making enforcement and consistency much harder, and it's giving me a feeling not unlike what I imagine being emotionally eaten alive feels like.  In fact... my emotions may already be digested by this point.

But he did figure out potty-training in 2 and a half days.  So that bought a lot of love.

Enjoying his victory 'la-pop'.

I've been trying to teach him some polite social skills because, while a defiant stinker to me, when anyone else tries to talk to him he generally gives this face:

followed immediately by a chin drop (to hide his embarrassed smile), and an eye roll that leads his head all the way up and over into the shoulder of whoever is holding him.  Then he plays the If I Ignore Them They'll Go Away game.  So we practice.

*What do you say when someone says 'hi' to you, Miles?  Hi.  Good!
*What do you say when someone says 'bye' to you, Miles?  Bye.  That's right!

After practicing these at home and in the car, we went out to practice in the real world.  Being in the south, I knew we'd have ample opportunity on our routine shopping trip... but after the very first stop, no one had said 'hi' or 'bye' to us.  We were stopped by three different people, though, and I realized that we needed to add a third 'point of politeness' to Miles's lessons.

*What do you say when someone says they like your hair, Miles?  Thank you.

He gets to practice this one a lot, and he's getting good at it. Until one little old lady asked him if she could touch it.  He was a little embarrassed by the request (usually people don't ask, they just do it)... but he slowly nodded his head and stood as still as a statue as she pet him like a little lamb.  Whew.  I gave him a high-five and a jelly bean after that one.

Yes.  He might own the world with his attitude, potty training skills, cute smile and hair, but don't let him bring in the eggs.

 Every. Single. One.