Let's Count Them!

Potty training Hooper has been one of the most difficult things I've ever attempted to do. Hooper quickly got the peeing part of it down but continued to struggle with the pooping part. Together my husband and I tried every method under the sun. We bribed him to poop on the potty. We tried to guilt him to poop in the potty. I'm sorry to say we even resorted to punishment. In our defense, Hooper was content with pooping everywhere BUT the potty. Underwear, floors, nothing was sacred to this boy. As all the experts said he would, one day it just clicked with him. It was ALL his idea and it didn't take long before he was pooping like a champ.

One of the first days he decided to poop in the potty I was home with him for Christmas break. Hooper asked to go poop early that morning and I thought, "Wonderful! Check that off my to do list!" An hour later he asked to go again and still I thought, "Look how good he's doing. Maybe shouldn't put quite so much fiber in his diet." Then not thirty minutes later I hear those words again, "Mom! I gotta go poop!" So once again we march in the bathroom and prepare to use the potty. I leave Hooper (the child likes his privacy) and when I check on him again he's done and staring into the potty.

I asked Hooper, "Are you done?"

He replies, "Yes! Look at all the poops! Let's count them! One, two, three, four, five, six!

I have never had such a mixture of pride and revulsion in all my life. The thought of standing over a used toilet and analyzing feces was somewhat gross to me. But pride is often the downfall of any parent and I was proud that my son had finally conquered potty training. And darn it, I was proud that he could count his poops.

Monster Baby

As I go travel down the road of mother-hood I have noticed that I can do a lot of things I never thought I could. For instance, I never thought I would be able to entertain two young boys at the same time...until I invented "Monster Baby". While waiting at the doctor's office one day I held Boston up and chased Hooper around the small exam room saying, "Monster Baby! He's gonna get you!" Hooper of course screamed and laughed. Over the next few weeks I often did that to him while we were waiting somewhere or needed a little entertainment.

This particular day I was picking up the boys from Linda. Let me just say here and now that Linda is the boys "daycare provider". However, I do not feel comfortable calling her their "daycare provider" because she is so much more than that. She is the sweetest woman who I know loves and cares for my boys. I feel as comfortable leaving the boys with her as with their own grandmothers, but I digress. This day while picking up the boys I performed the "Monster Baby" trick, expecting a short laugh from Hooper and a smile from Boston. But instead I got from Hooper,

"Ahhh, Monster Baby! He's so fat, he eat me!"

Shiloah and I obviously needed to broaden our vocabulary and use words such as chubby, full or healthy. Fat, just wasn't working anymore.

The Cute Spot

All of Hooper's life I have pinched his little cheeks and said, "Chubby cheeks, chubby cheeks." They are so cute and probably my favorite feature of his face. A couple of days ago, Boston was in his little bouncy chair, Hooper and I were playing on the floor. Boston began to ooh and goo at us, trying to get our attention. I said,"Hooper, look! Brother is trying to get our attention." Hooper bent over Boston, pinched his cheeks and said, "Chubby cheeks, chubby cheeks." It was so obvious that it was a gesture of love and one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. I wondered why we pinch the cheeks when someone is so cute you can't stand it, but we do. The cheeks are our designated cute spot. What made it sweeter was Boston smiling back at his big brother.

I've heard stories from Shiloah about him and his brother as teenagers. They would steal each others clothes. Punch holes in walls instead of punching faces. Yell, scream, the whole bit. I'm wondering when Bo and Hooper are teenagers if they will remember their cute spots and pinch each other's cheeks. Probably not, but I will remind them of the moment when Hooper found Boston's chubby cheeks and Boston looked lovingly at his big brother as if he had hung the moon. Think it will work? Nah...me either.

Eating Piles of Dirt

In order to teach Hooper to eat what is given to him at dinner, Shiloah and I had imposed a policy of no desert unless dinner is eaten. Sometimes Hooper eats and other times he goes about his business. This night was one of those nights when Hooper chose to eat very little on his plate and then called it a day despite warning of no desert.

Later that evening Shiloah and I were enjoying a brownie and ice cream. Hooper came into the living room and saw the bowl of delicious goodness. He asked me, "What's that?" In a vain attempt of diverting his interest in my desert, I told him the brownie was dirt. He looked long and hard at that brownie, then back at me again.

"I want dirt."

Hooper had a big fat brownie that night.

Expert Prodding

The weekend of Halloween, Hooper was sick. This was no snotty nose or little cough. This was S-I-C-K, sick. He felt so bad that we called Dr. Firth at home and went over so he could give Hooper the once over. Turns out Hooper had walking pneumonia. He had a horrible cough and was having trouble breathing. Needless to say Shiloah and I were very worried.

The first night was very long. Hooper was hurting and coughing all night long. No one got a good night's sleep. The next morning Hooper seemed to be feeling better. We knew this because we had to keep him settled down all morning. "No running, Hooper!" "Settle down, Hooper!" It was like herding cats.

After lunch I was sitting in the living room with Boston in my lap and Hooper really wanted to play "catch". His version of catch is bumping the ball with his chest and head, which leads Shiloah and I into prayer every day that he will not play soccer. Anyway I figured what could it hurt to stand still and play catch? Of course Hooper was diving and bumping the ball everywhere, even into picture frames and lamps. I finally told him no more unless he actually would catch the ball. After the third "no" he received, he threw his hands up in the air and said, "Ah come on! Come on Mommy!" I'm a sucker for expert prodding such as this. I can always buy new picture frames.

Snubbed by a 3-year Old

Tonight I was giving Boston a bath and Hooper was trying to "help" me. He was climbing all over me trying to get a good look at brother and spicing up his bath with a few toys he threw in. After about the fifth time I told Hooper to get off my back Shiloah tried to lure him into the living room.

"Hooper, want to come in here and play with Daddy?" cried Shiloah.

"Um...no thanks." replied Hooper

Snubbed by a three-year old.

Hooper the flying Penguin

This year for Halloween we allowed Hooper to choose what he wanted to dress up as for Halloween. He's really been interested in dinosaurs and all things that roar for some time now so we thought a t-rex or lion would be something he'd like.

Shiloah sat with Hooper one night and showed him pictures of all sorts of lion, tiger and dinosaur costumes. He showed mild interest until he saw a penguin costume. He jumped up and down crying "A penguin! A penguin!" Shiloah continued to show him tigers and things that roar hoping to distract him but the penguin won out.

When we got the penguin costume we still weren't sure whether or not Hooper would wear it but he quickly tried it on and began flapping his wings. We actually had to make him take it off that first night.

Soon after this I noticed that Hooper was jumping off of things more than usual. His bed, our bed, the couch, chairs anything that would give him a little height. One day I asked him what he was doing and he put his chin to his chest and very quietly said, "I can't fly." Then he began flapping his wings like he did in the penguin suit. It was then it hit me all this jumping was an attempt to fly like a penguin. He was so disappointed that I didn't have the heart to tell him penguins don't fly either. A kid needs goals in life.

Choosing Treats

While at my mom's house tonight I thought of another Hooperism that I never want to forget. Hooper spends alot of time with my mom while I'm in softball season. She picks him up from the babysitter and they go home, get a snack and play until Shiloah gets off work. Around 2 years old Hooper was really putting sentences together. We soon realized how much he listened to and how much time he was spending with Nanny.

One weekend afternoon Hooper wanted a snack. I went back to the pantry to get some crackers. Before I knew it he was in front of me tapping his index finger to his mouth saying, "Wet's see...we wike QUACKERS!" (translation:" Let's see...we like CRACKERS!") Very funny. At three years old he still does this when picking snacks and I of course continue to laugh.

The cow says_____________________?

Around 2/2 1/2 years, Hooper began figuring out animal sounds. We would do the typical, "The cow says..." and Hooper would enthusiastically reply, "Mooooo!" We have since added a snake, horse, lion, tiger, bear, whale, elephant, chicken...you get the idea.

My husband thought it would be cute to tell my son things that people say. For instance, "Mommy says...." and Hooper replys "No, no, no!" Soon the whole family had a saying and I wanted to make sure we never forgot them.

Daddy says- "Seriously?!" With his hand held out, palm up.
Nanny says- "Cookie?" As in "Want a cookie?" My mom makes wonderful cookies and is always willing to share, God bless her.

Brother says- "Whaaa, whaa!" Hooper does not enjoy Bo's crying.
Grandad says- "Ah, Babe!" As in, trying to talk my mom into something.
Grandpa says- "Vroom, vroom." Grandpa and Hooper share a love of cars.

Looking back, turning Hooper into a puppet for our amusement may not have been the right thing to do, but it sure was the funny thing to do.