Lawyer Mama

The Tragic Demise of a Bubble

I think we all know how it ends....

The Road Less Traveled

Holden, my two year old, has picked up an interesting quirk.  (Aside from pretending he's a cat, that is.)  Whenever we're heading to the sitter's house or out running errands, he tries to direct me down a different road.  He knows the way home, but he wants to go "de odder way, Mommy.  Dat way.  Nooooo, DAT way!"

Holden's urge to explore and try new things has always baffled me.  He may be the youngest of my boys, but he's always the first to hurtle head first down the slide or climb to the top of the monkey bars and jump off.   He's the toddler equivalent of those wacky people who sky dive for fun *cough*mycousinAdam*cough* or pick up race car driving on the side.  You know, because they're bored.

I freak out on the mildest of roller coasters, so I just don't get it.  I remember my high school boyfriend once talking me into riding some horribly named roller coaster at Six Flags in Chicago.  It was called the Demon or the Devil or something cursed like that.  I was fine until we started heading up to the first drop.  Then, I started hitting my boyfriend and screaming at him for talking me into it.  It's not the height of the roller coaster that bothers me on that first big drop.  It's the plummet to my possible death that follows.

Hollis, is very much like me.  T, is also much like me, although he can be goaded and dared into at least riding roller coasters.  Still, Holden and his toddler thrill seeking, adventuresome ways, are a puzzle to us and our easy routines.  Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan or risk and daring, but not of the physical sort.  For the most part, in a hurry to go somewhere or do something, I tend to ignore Holden's requests to go exploring.

Today, however, was a lazy Sunday. 

Wildfires from North Carolina have been sending smoke up here for the last two weeks and the air quality is pretty bad, so the boys and I lazed around and then picked up lunch for T and ate with him at his office.  (Because, of course, after finally retiring from the Navy Reserves and those annoying weekend drills, he'd have a serious crunch with his "real" job.)  After the boys ripped T's office apart and started in on the conference room with the dry erase markers, we packed them up to head home.  Neither of the boys was happy about this because they knew it would be N A P T I M E when we got home.

About 1/2 a mile from our house, Holden started directing me to turn down various roads.  For once, I decided to comply and turn down a street we'd never traversed before.  T and I had wondered if there was a residential area hiding back there, so the boys and I went exploring.

Hollis was very concerned that we were no longer heading home and kept telling me that we shouldn't go too far and "we might get lost, Mommy."  Anyone want to guess who my worrier is?  Holden was having a grand old time pointing out the cars and the houses, but he's usually game for anything that keeps him away from nap time.

After 10 minutes of driving around an ugly subdivision of 1950's cookie cutter houses, I'd had enough and we headed home.  About to turn back on the road to our house, Holden demanded I turn the other way again.  Hollis began lecturing his brother in the way that only a know-it-all toddler can,

"No brother.  We're going home now.  It's time for your nap time."  (Imagine this complete with snooty, "I am older than you and must torment you" brotherly inflections.)

Holden, predictably, objected and the boys started arguing in the back seat.  Sitting at the stop sign, I refereed, telling Hollis that Holden likes to explore.  Hollis replied with,

"Well, I like my house."

Doesn't that sum it up nicely?

Risking the wrath of Hollis, I turned back down a new road that dead ended after about 400 yards.  As I was turning around, both boys got super excited at a bird that had landed on a nearby fence.  A cardinal.

It wasn't anything special to me, but to the boys the spotting of a bright red bird was a thing of wonder and magic.  We sat and watched the bird with the windows down until it flew away.  It was probably driven away by Holden's high pitched screaming of, "Here, birdy!  Here birdy!" but H&H enjoyed it anyway.

As we headed home with no objection from the boys, I contemplated how important Holden is to our family.  He's the irresistible force that makes us orbit and, strangely, keeps us grounded.  He reminds me daily to take time to enjoy the small moments of life.  He reminds us all to take risks, even if they aren't of the physical sort.

As I settled the boys in for their nap, I learned that Hollis had also been thinking about our encounter with the red cardinal.  As I gave him a kiss he asked me, "Mommy, that red bird was pretty, wasn't it?"  I agreed.  As Hollis turned over and closed his eyes, I hoped that he would dream of climbing up to the top of the monkey bars with his brother. 

And jumping off to fly.

My Little Swimmer

Hollis started swimming lessons this week. I dreaded and anticipated this week in equal parts.

I've written many times about Hollis and his introversion, his fear of new things, his reticence around new people and in new situations. We've had mixed results around water up until now.  I want my boys to love the water like I do, but I've worried about Hollis and his reluctance to try new things.

At the beach last Summer, Hollis never wanted to go in the water. The "beach party," as he always refers to our beach trips, was all about playing in the sand. This year I can't seem to keep him out of the ocean.

In fact, when we're at the beach, I have to stand out in the water and turn him around every time he gets out to me, to keep him from going in over his head. Between Hollis and Hurricane "I am invincible" Holden, life guarding my two children is now a full time job. (Not a lot of Bacardi drinking has been happening at the beach this year.)

In our pool at home, Hollis was a bit more adventurous last Summer. He liked to have T drop him off the diving board into my arms, but he didn't want to blow bubbles or try to float for me. This year, we have a little issue with the pool - to the tune of $6000 for a new liner - that won't be fixed until late July because of order time. H&H do go swimming in their sitter's pool, but Hollis is always more fearless around Miss M's boys, whom he adores. So, going into swimming lessons, we weren't really sure what to expect.

I shouldn't have been worried.

On the first day, Hollis joined right in.  Despite being the youngest in his swim class, he sat on the side of the pool and patiently waited for his turn.  When his swim instructor asked him his name he proudly informed her that he was "Hollis G--- N------" and that he was 6 years old.  (He's 3 and he knows he's 3, but is constantly trying to convince everyone else that he's older.)

The instructors had everyone swim and kick for them and separated the class out by ability.  Hollis is with the big kids.  Frankly, this former competitive swimmer couldn't be more proud!

He gamely tries everything his instructors ask.  He kicks, he blows bubbles, he jumps into the pool, he dunks himself under water, all with a huge grin on his face. 

He loves it!

I'm so proud of my Big H for trying new things and being so brave.  This seems to be a new trend for him.  As he gets older, he becomes so much more confident in himself and he needs us less.  It's bittersweet for me.

Ah, but it's oh so wonderful for Hollis.

Car Conversations I'd Rather Forget

Last week in the car on the way to daycare, Hollis and I started talking about how he won't have school again until the Fall.  Then he demanded to know why T and I don't go to school anymore.  I explained that Daddy and I had already finished school and there wasn't much more school we could do.

Hollis and I have talked about college in the past and my pat answer when he asks why he can't have something is, "Because it costs too much money and we need to save it for your college."  So I told him I'd already been to college.  Mommy already finishing college seemed to click with Hollis and our conversation moved on.

"Mommy, I'm going to go to college so we need to take all the money out of my piggy bank so I can go."

"Yes, Sweetie, it will cost a lot of money, but you have a long time before college."

"I'm in preschool now, Mommy.  Then I'll go to college."

"Well, Hollis, you have a few more years.  You won't go to college until you're big like Daddy."

"Ohhhhhh."  Hollis contemplated this for awhile.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"When I'm big I don't want those big things on me like you have."

??????

"You mean my breasts, sweetie?"

"Yes.  I don't want those."

"No need to worry, Hollis, only girls get breasts, not boys."

"Oh."

Hollis was quiet for a few moments and then he asked,

"Then why does Pop Pop have them?"

(Pop Pop is Grandpa - T's dad.)  I have to admit I couldn't stop laughing for about 10 minutes, meaning Hollis is nearly guaranteed to repeat that comment!  Sorry, T Sr.!

Now I'm having "Bro" flashbacks.

The Unexplainable War

How do you explain war to a 3 year old?

Sure, Hollis will make pretty much anything (even his railroad track parts) into a sword and he pretends to shoot people all the time.  But at this age he really has no concept of death, aside from the demise of his cat.

The whole discussion started because T is preparing for an exercise with his Navy reserve unit.  (The last one he will ever participate in before retiring.  WOOHOO!) While he was getting his uniforms ready, Hollis asked him what an army was and if he could see a picture of one on the computer.

Aside from being amazed at his early grasp of the power of The Google, I realized that I hadn't shown Hollis any pictures of Uncle B lately.  You see, "Uncle B" is off in the middle east having a grand old time in the insane heat, sand and dust.  B's unit has a photo page for friends and family, so I showed Hollis a few of Uncle B that I had found.

Then Hollis requested a photo of an "Army truck."  So we looked at a few shots of Humvees.  On the back of each vehicle is a large sign with two stop signs and a message in Arabic and English.  It reads "DANGER STAY BACK."  Hollis, being in the midst of the Age of Why, wanted to know why they had the signs there.  Oof. 

I tried the standard, "Well, cars and people could get hurt by that big Army truck if they get too close."  He wasn't buying it, pointing out that tractors are bigger.  So I stupidly said, "Sometimes bad people try to get too close to the trucks and blow them up."

Geez, louise, Steph.  What were you thinking?

Hollis, was understandably a bit upset and wanted to know why bad people would want to hurt Uncle B and he also wanted to know where the bad people are.  That led to a whole toddler level discussion about Uncle B trying to make sure that bad people don't hurt anyone ever again.  I couldn't bring myself to try to tell a 3 year old that they want to blow soldiers up to get us out of the middle east, where we shouldn't be in the first place.

Hollis barely understands what a country is, let alone a foreign one.  When I recently told him he lived in the United States he insisted, "No, Mommy, I live in Chesapeake."  He also barely understands the concept of God, let alone that there can be different ideas of God taken seriously enough to kill.

This isn't one of those stories where I tie everything up with a neat little parenting or policy bow at the end.  I honestly have no idea how to handle his questions.  I'm just muddling through the best I can without forcing my little man to grow up to the realities of this cruel world too soon.

If someone's going to write yet another parenting manual, I hope they deal with this, the hard stuff, instead of how to handle picking a preschool, educational toys, and the occasional time out.  Because that stuff was a cake walk compared to discussing war.

**Photo from the Golf 237 web site by photographer PFC Joseph Lyons. Uncle B is the soldier with the neon yellow strap.

Cross posted at MOMocrats.

Negotiating With a Toddler

At the age of 2, Hollis only said a couple of things: mine, no, and Daddy.  Yeah, no Mommy for that kid.  Not until he was like 2 1/2.  Traitor.

I'm not sure when things changed so dramatically, but now at the age of 3 1/2, the kid won't shut up.  He has an answer for everything.  If he asks us a question and doesn't like our answer, he will insist that we are wrong.  Even if I'm telling him something like "Mommy is a girl and Daddy is a boy."  I'll get back from Hollis something like, "No, Mommy.  Daddy isn't a boy.  I'm a boy.  Daddy is big and I'm littler than he is so Daddy is not a boy."  I thought we were supposed to be all knowing until he hit his pre-teen years.  What happened?

Honestly, I'm thinking of sending Hollis to the middle east to broker a peace agreement or maybe using him during my next mediation.  The kid is relentless.

Here's a recent conversation between Hollis and T over whether or not Hollis could have some more candy from a birthday goody bag.

Hollis: "Daddy, can I have these now?"  (Holding aloft a small package of Sweet Tarts.)
T: "No, Hollis.  We're going to have dinner when we get home."
Hollis: "But I want them."
T: "I know you do, but they'll spoil your dinner."
Hollis: "But they're good."
T: "Yes, I know they're tasty, but you need to eat dinner."
Hollis: "But they are dinner."
T: ?????  (Stunned silence) "Huh? They're candy, Hollis."
Hollis: "No, they aren't. See the package says dinner."  Pointing to the words "Sweet Tart" on the package H says, "that spells DINNNNNNNERRRRR."

Let's see.  We have: (1) a passionate love of the sound of his own voice; (2) an opinion about everything;  (3) the inability to admit an error; and (4) blatant disregard for the facts in pursuit of his own agenda. 

I think I've given birth to a future lawyer.

********************

I have a review up on Law(yer Mama) Review for a new photo subscription service called Kinzin.  It's wonderful for keeping the grandparents up to date!

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For now, Lawyer Mama Dabbles is going to stay on Blogger.  I need to recover from the trauma of this move before I try moving all my photos!  I'll keep posting there, but I've also set up an album on this blog with some of my favorite photos from Lawyer Mama Dabbles and my Flickr account.  I actually like it because you can view the photos much larger than you can on the blog.

Us

Us

Keep Climbing

I have new reviews up on Lawyer Mama Review. Remember Highlights magazine from when we were kids? Well it's still around and I'm reviewing High Five, a Highlights magazine for the preschool set. To go along with that, PBN is having a Blog Blast TOMORROW where you can win a free year's subscription to High Five or Highlights magazine. Go check out how you can play.

I also have a review up for a new book with a mystery and a twist at the end. If you like psychological drama, you'll love the Liar's Diary. Of course, the title intrigued me because I'm a blogger, but this writer also has a blog that you'll love.

**********







Later on you'll ask me, "Why all the feet, Mom?"

I have an answer. You see, I blinked and suddenly you weren't a baby anymore. I can see it in your long, lanky boy legs, your face, your once round tummy, the way you run, and your feet.

You no longer have the chubby little feet of a baby. You have the feet of a boy; made to run, to climb, to walk away.

I want to remember them always, just as they are now.

Keep Climbing

I have new reviews up on Lawyer Mama Review. Remember Highlights magazine from when we were kids? Well it's still around and I'm reviewing High Five, a Highlights magazine for the preschool set. To go along with that, PBN is having a Blog Blast TOMORROW where you can win a free year's subscription to High Five or Highlights magazine. Go check out how you can play.

I also have a review up for a new book with a mystery and a twist at the end. If you like psychological drama, you'll love the Liar's Diary. Of course, the title intrigued me because I'm a blogger, but this writer also has a blog that you'll love.

**********







Later on you'll ask me, "Why all the feet, Mom?"

I have an answer. You see, I blinked and suddenly you weren't a baby anymore. I can see it in your long, lanky boy legs, your face, your once round tummy, the way you run, and your feet.

You no longer have the chubby little feet of a baby. You have the feet of a boy; made to run, to climb, to walk away.

I want to remember them always, just as they are now.

Miss Me?

I'm off to Cali with Little H.

Miss me?

I'll miss you all.






Yeah, like that.

Miss Me?

I'm off to Cali with Little H.

Miss me?

I'll miss you all.






Yeah, like that.

Valentine's Snow Day

When is a snow day not a good thing?

When it's your 3 year old's first Valentine's Day party, he spent hours the night before carefully decorating every card and meticulously (or not) cutting out hearts for his teacher's home made card.

Hollis cried when he heard there would be no school today.

I'm not sure that this even actually qualifies as "snow." (Suck it up! I'm talking to you, Chesapeake!) It was really more like frozen rain that looked white until it melted about 20 minutes ago. While the kids thought the idea of snow was great in theory, Hollis touched it with his bare hand and was done.

Holden lasted a bit longer. It took 5 minutes for him to declare, "Mommmmmmy! Hands too cold! Help me!"

My wussy little Southern boys!




Can you believe he kept that adorable hat on? I can't.
He wouldn't wear the mittens though.





What is this white stuff and why is it on my foot?
He made me clean off his feet. Seriously.





The sun came out.





You still can't make me look at the camera, Mommy.
No matter how much you want a cute Valentine's Day photo.

Valentine's Snow Day

When is a snow day not a good thing?

When it's your 3 year old's first Valentine's Day party, he spent hours the night before carefully decorating every card and meticulously (or not) cutting out hearts for his teacher's home made card.

Hollis cried when he heard there would be no school today.

I'm not sure that this even actually qualifies as "snow." (Suck it up! I'm talking to you, Chesapeake!) It was really more like frozen rain that looked white until it melted about 20 minutes ago. While the kids thought the idea of snow was great in theory, Hollis touched it with his bare hand and was done.

Holden lasted a bit longer. It took 5 minutes for him to declare, "Mommmmmmy! Hands too cold! Help me!"

My wussy little Southern boys!




Can you believe he kept that adorable hat on? I can't.
He wouldn't wear the mittens though.





What is this white stuff and why is it on my foot?
He made me clean off his feet. Seriously.





The sun came out.





You still can't make me look at the camera, Mommy.
No matter how much you want a cute Valentine's Day photo.

When Did I Become The Adult?

I have a new review of The Ultimate Tea Diet up on Lawyer Mama Review. I was skeptical going in, but it really works. Go check it out.

I also have new photos up on Lawyer Mama Dabbles. Well, they're not exactly new, but what I did to them is! Want to see a vintage Holden? How about a chocolate and lilac Hollis?

Finally, I have to thank everyone for your emails, comments, and hugs since Pandy got sick. Hell, I have to thank all y'all for your unflagging support all the time. I neglect your blogs for weeks at a time. I post sporadically or post only nonsense and you keep coming back just to let me know you're listening. You open up your homes to me (yeah, I'm looking at you, Joanne and Heather!). You call me and send me your phone numbers. Or you just let me know that you're there.

You have no idea how much all of this means to me. Or maybe you do. Either way, there's a house next door to me for sale if anyone wants to buy it. I'd be thrilled to have any of you as neighbors. And for me, that says a lot!

************
Last night was the culmination of weeks of dread. Ever since we got that little slip of paper from Hollis's preschool, I've been nervous as hell. The reason for my anxiety?

Parent Teacher Conferences

That's right. For 3 year olds.

As a child, I was never worried about conferences. I was a nerd model student. Even if I hadn't been, I can usually handle criticism. (Cognitive dissonance works great. You should try it.) But the thought of listening to someone tell me what my baby is doing wrong makes my heart race and my brow break out in a sweat.

It's not that I think Hollis is perfect. To the contrary, I know he's not. I know he's the youngest in his class and that he's probably behind most of them. I know that he's an introvert but he tends to get pumped up and rowdy (and stop listening) when he's in a comfortable environment. I don't know which option frightened me more, hearing that he was completely comfortable to the point of disobedience and insolence or hearing that he was too shy to fully participate.

Well, having actually been in his classroom and witnessed The Toddler in his native habitat, I knew it was more likely we'd be hearing about behavior techniques to get him to listen. I just don't want to be the mom to "That Child." Not that I think we couldn't handle it, but knowing that Holden is far, far worse than his brother, I would be completely freaked out to discover that Hollis is a behavior problem in school!

Plus, every time I go into school as Hollis's "mother" I feel like a teenager masquerading as a parent. Does anyone else feel like this or is this some bizarre personal psychological reaction to schools and bulletin boards?

Hollis's teacher also keeps asking me to call her by her first name and I, stupidly, keep calling her Mrs. N and writing "Mrs. N" on notes to her. I probably make her feel like a grandmother masquerading as a teacher, but really, when did I become the adult? I still feel like I'm not allowed to call a teacher by her first name!

Anyway, it turns out that my fears were groundless. Hollis's teacher told us that, yes, he is young and has a few problems with things a few of the kids have mastered, but he's constantly showing improvement. Hollis is happy and cheerful and obedient (for the most part) and plays well with the other kids. Whew! I mean, we knew Hollis was happy, but it's nice to hear confirmation from his teacher. And to hear that she likes him. We all want our children to be liked, don't we?

At the end of the conference, Mrs. N shared something with us that she calls the "Tell Me" sheet. It's a list of questions she asks the kids and then she records the answers. It starts with basic things like name, age, favorite color, etc.... (By the way, Hollis is still insisting that he's 5. At least he's consistent.) Then she asked him things like, "What makes you happy or sad?" and, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Hollis, to his credit, didn't answer the, "What do you want to be?" question. Honestly, I wouldn't know how to answer if you asked me and I'm 35. How do you answer a question like that? "I want to be happy/thin/tall/a princess/a fireman?" I don't know. On the way home, I decided to ask Hollis the question again, worded a bit differently. Being a creative genius, I asked Hollis, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" My literal-minded toddler answered without missing a beat, "Drink coffee and soda."

That's my boy!

There were a few answers on Hollis's "Tell Me" sheet that cracked us up. For the question, "What do daddies do?" Hollis answered, "Go to work and eat chocolate. I went to Daddy's office and he gave me some chocolate and it was yummy and crunchy." Clearly the kitchen in T's office has made an impression.

In response to, "What do Mommies do," Hollis replied, "Take baths and eat popsicles." Oy. It's time to start indoctrinating the toddler. Does anyone have a copy of The Feminine Mystique that I could borrow? Or maybe I should start out with some Wollstonecraft? Do they publish A Vindication of the Rights of Woman in a picture book?

Hollis redeemed himself towards the end though. His answer to, "What is pretty?" was "Mommy and her smile." Say it with me now, everyone, "Awwwwwwwwww!" When his teacher followed up with, "What makes her pretty?" Hollis's response was, "Her hair and her hair clip."

T was a little disturbed about Hollis's public acknowledgement of his obsession with my accessories. The kid loves to wear my necklaces, hair clips and headbands, and shoes. Clearly, there's hope for my boy!

When Did I Become The Adult?

I have a new review of The Ultimate Tea Diet up on Lawyer Mama Review. I was skeptical going in, but it really works. Go check it out.

I also have new photos up on Lawyer Mama Dabbles. Well, they're not exactly new, but what I did to them is! Want to see a vintage Holden? How about a chocolate and lilac Hollis?

Finally, I have to thank everyone for your emails, comments, and hugs since Pandy got sick. Hell, I have to thank all y'all for your unflagging support all the time. I neglect your blogs for weeks at a time. I post sporadically or post only nonsense and you keep coming back just to let me know you're listening. You open up your homes to me (yeah, I'm looking at you, Joanne and Heather!). You call me and send me your phone numbers. Or you just let me know that you're there.

You have no idea how much all of this means to me. Or maybe you do. Either way, there's a house next door to me for sale if anyone wants to buy it. I'd be thrilled to have any of you as neighbors. And for me, that says a lot!

************
Last night was the culmination of weeks of dread. Ever since we got that little slip of paper from Hollis's preschool, I've been nervous as hell. The reason for my anxiety?

Parent Teacher Conferences

That's right. For 3 year olds.

As a child, I was never worried about conferences. I was a nerd model student. Even if I hadn't been, I can usually handle criticism. (Cognitive dissonance works great. You should try it.) But the thought of listening to someone tell me what my baby is doing wrong makes my heart race and my brow break out in a sweat.

It's not that I think Hollis is perfect. To the contrary, I know he's not. I know he's the youngest in his class and that he's probably behind most of them. I know that he's an introvert but he tends to get pumped up and rowdy (and stop listening) when he's in a comfortable environment. I don't know which option frightened me more, hearing that he was completely comfortable to the point of disobedience and insolence or hearing that he was too shy to fully participate.

Well, having actually been in his classroom and witnessed The Toddler in his native habitat, I knew it was more likely we'd be hearing about behavior techniques to get him to listen. I just don't want to be the mom to "That Child." Not that I think we couldn't handle it, but knowing that Holden is far, far worse than his brother, I would be completely freaked out to discover that Hollis is a behavior problem in school!

Plus, every time I go into school as Hollis's "mother" I feel like a teenager masquerading as a parent. Does anyone else feel like this or is this some bizarre personal psychological reaction to schools and bulletin boards?

Hollis's teacher also keeps asking me to call her by her first name and I, stupidly, keep calling her Mrs. N and writing "Mrs. N" on notes to her. I probably make her feel like a grandmother masquerading as a teacher, but really, when did I become the adult? I still feel like I'm not allowed to call a teacher by her first name!

Anyway, it turns out that my fears were groundless. Hollis's teacher told us that, yes, he is young and has a few problems with things a few of the kids have mastered, but he's constantly showing improvement. Hollis is happy and cheerful and obedient (for the most part) and plays well with the other kids. Whew! I mean, we knew Hollis was happy, but it's nice to hear confirmation from his teacher. And to hear that she likes him. We all want our children to be liked, don't we?

At the end of the conference, Mrs. N shared something with us that she calls the "Tell Me" sheet. It's a list of questions she asks the kids and then she records the answers. It starts with basic things like name, age, favorite color, etc.... (By the way, Hollis is still insisting that he's 5. At least he's consistent.) Then she asked him things like, "What makes you happy or sad?" and, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Hollis, to his credit, didn't answer the, "What do you want to be?" question. Honestly, I wouldn't know how to answer if you asked me and I'm 35. How do you answer a question like that? "I want to be happy/thin/tall/a princess/a fireman?" I don't know. On the way home, I decided to ask Hollis the question again, worded a bit differently. Being a creative genius, I asked Hollis, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" My literal-minded toddler answered without missing a beat, "Drink coffee and soda."

That's my boy!

There were a few answers on Hollis's "Tell Me" sheet that cracked us up. For the question, "What do daddies do?" Hollis answered, "Go to work and eat chocolate. I went to Daddy's office and he gave me some chocolate and it was yummy and crunchy." Clearly the kitchen in T's office has made an impression.

In response to, "What do Mommies do," Hollis replied, "Take baths and eat popsicles." Oy. It's time to start indoctrinating the toddler. Does anyone have a copy of The Feminine Mystique that I could borrow? Or maybe I should start out with some Wollstonecraft? Do they publish A Vindication of the Rights of Woman in a picture book?

Hollis redeemed himself towards the end though. His answer to, "What is pretty?" was "Mommy and her smile." Say it with me now, everyone, "Awwwwwwwwww!" When his teacher followed up with, "What makes her pretty?" Hollis's response was, "Her hair and her hair clip."

T was a little disturbed about Hollis's public acknowledgement of his obsession with my accessories. The kid loves to wear my nec