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.