Weather or not ...

The forecast called for thunderstorms all day long.


We took our chances and went to the fair. Weather or not, here we come. ...



Turns out getting the worst parking spot in the entire fair universe has its perks.



We picked our favorite contender at Cupcake Wars.



A little girl I know, having reached the magical height of 48 inches (49.5 to be precise), got her Bumper Cars permit.



A little boy I know -- now measuring 43 inches (a full inch taller than the minimum) -- has graduated to the Big Kids' Rides.



Like the Flying Bobs! (OH YEAH!!!)



Though he still fits in his old favorites.



I didn't see a lot of sibling rivalry.



Sometimes she came in first.



Sometimes he did.



But mostly, they stayed side by side for the whole ride.

Boy babies

They're "ACTION FIGURES," the champ chided emphatically.

"NOT DOLLS!" as I had erroneously called one after stepping on it and hopping around the living room floor swearing and openly wishing the dog would chew them all to plastic bits.

"Then pick up your ACTION FIGURES and put them away before someone gets maimed."

He just harrumphed and headed toward his toys with sloth-like speed.

Typical.

Honestly, I don't see that much difference between the way the boy plays and the way the girl does. They both sing songs as they move toys around in their imaginary worlds. They both shriek and act like their fingernails are being ripped out one-by-one when the other touches their stuff.

Normal. Ish.

The only difference seems to be the terms.

In Boyland, dolls, as we've all learned, are "action figures."

Doll houses are "secret lairs."

And doll clothes are disguises.

His dudes surf ...

 

Rescue damsels ...

 

or not ...




His dudes fight with their sisters ...

The usual.

It didn't even seem out of the ordinary when he asked me to make him a doll like the one I made for his sister.

Only his doll had to be a boy doll.



With boy doll parts.

"That means he wants his doll to have a penis," Ittybit translated.

I knew that. I was just stunned into silence.

What can of worms would this open?

Anatomical.

AnaTommyCal.

AnyTummyGall?

Of course, Ittybit was laughing at me. Over-thinking as usual.

ThisAintFunnyGirl.

"It's not that difficult," she said, brushing past me to sit behind the sewing machine. She took a scrap of fabric, folded it twice and ran it under the presser foot like a pro. A few passes of the machine and it was done.

She turned it inside out and handed me the results.

I had to admit. It looked like a private part.

She showed it to her brother, who was delighted. It looked convincing enough.

"Are you going to put it on my doll," he asked, unable to contain his excitement.

"Not before I have clothes ready. This doll has to be appropriately dressed in public places.  Just like you can't go to school nude, he can't take off his clothes unless he's taking a bath or getting ready for bed.

"How long is that going to take?"

"Have patience. I don't want to rush it and make a mistake."

"Please hurry. He REALLY needs to go to the baffroom, and I don't want him to have an accident."

Turns out, it was simple operation.



 And in case you wondering:

 

Boxers are easier to sew than briefs.

Little brothers can be quite bothersome

They never sit still.

They talk to loudly and at inappropriate moments.

They are always interrupting you.

They moonwalk past all your friends, not to mention the school pricipal, when it is your turn to be center stage.

They hold their hands over their ears when you are singing your heart out.

But instead of losing heart, you smile.

You know, deep down, he's your biggest fan.

'This is a cubby'

this is a cubby, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

"But it's not MY cubby.

"I'm not going to show you MY cubby because MY cubby has MY stuff in it.

"And I don't want you touching MY stuff.

"But you can touch that kid's stuff ...

"HE'S a boy. HE won't mind."

Sad Songs (Say So Much)

girlhood, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

*singing*

When I was three

Or maybe I was two.

No, I was three.

He took my heart

Silas

And he took my place

When I was using it

He took my place

When I was still using it.

All the ones (parents)

Loved him not me

Because he took my place

And he took their hearts

They only love the one who took my spot

Not me

Tuesday Tunes

morning commute, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

"There was an old lady who swallowed a fly. I don't know why she swallowed the fly, probalee to get a spider she swallered, or maybe the bird. that was ab ... ab ... ab.

"MOM! What's that word?"

"Absurd."

"Oh Yeah. A bird. She swalllered the bird to catch a fly to eat a spider.
and then the old lady ate a cat to catch the fly or the spider and maybe a bird. But a bird doesn't eat a cat. So that's just weird.

"Oh I don't know why she swallowed the fly. Maybe to get the dog ... or the hog.

"MOM! What's a HOG?"

"It's like a pig, Annabel".

"Well maybe they should just say pig.

"OK that's pretty big, to swaller a pig. Maybe it was to get the goat.
And that rhymes with coat but not cow or horse, which comes next. But then she's fat. And that is that."

"Are you sure that's how the song goes?"

"Yes, because Silas likes it."

Lil' Nipper

boss lady, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

Have you ever seen a Jack Russell terrier in action?

Tiny dogs with spunk. They've been known to take on dogs three times their size and win. They've got personality enough for five dogs. They don't just walk they strut ... with bravado. As if they owned the world.

That's our Annabel.

Mighty mite.

She's not afraid to make the rules. And change them. Mid game. She's not afraid to call the shots.

Dog-gone it if people don't listen. ... And do as commanded.

It's pretty frightening, actually.

We put the gross in grocery shopping

Pushing a wonky-wheeled cart through the market is always an adventure when there's a preschooler calling the shots as you go.

From deciding what vegetables to buy (red, orange and yellow peppers; red and "silver" potatoes; but NOT the asparagus, which I managed to slip into the cart unnoticed anyway) to what cheeses looked best, Ittybit has become a grocery guru.

There's something almost mystical about her talents:

For instance, as soon as the butcher handed us our pound of stew beef she had decided to cradle it in her arms and call it "her baby." She even told the cashier not to put her "baby" in the plastic bag, knowing full well that plastic is not a toy and not to be triffled with.

She had other, big sisterly plans: "I need to rock him to sleep."

The bagger gave me a look I instantly recognized as the trying-not-to-laugh face pinch.

I told her confidentially: "we save a lot of money on dolls, not to mention the added bonus of being to eat her babies."

In hindsight, I'm thinking it wasn't a really appropriate response.