What would you like for breakfast?

"I don't want breface!"

"You have to have breakfast ... so-what'll-it-be?"

"... I don't want breface! ... I don't want Sheerios! I don't want Danola! I DON'T WANT NUFFING!"

"How about waffles?"

"OK."

To be filed under sub-category: 'Children Are Strange'

Yesterday I learned my children are actually constellations of condiment consumption.

Here you will see ...



The Little Sipper

and ...



The Big Sipper

Hard to believe that only a few days ago I had accepted that their stomachs were merely black holes where all the snack food in the house just seems to disappear.

Random Question Thursday?

Yes, I know it's Wednesday but I'm feeling productive and working a day ahead ... not to mention tomorrow I will be too busy thinking about how I should be throwing crap our possessions into boxes so's Jed (et. al.) can toss said boxes into the truck and haul them over to the new house. ... Where, if all goes well, we will be LIVING! come Monday.

BUT ... since I don't really want to think about any of that, answer me this:

What's you're favorite ice cream flavor?

ME: I'm going to say Green Tea flavored; I've never seen it locally, but I had some once in D.C. at a Japanese restaurant with my aunt. And I must say ... Mmmmm mmm. Mmm. So good, I might have to try and make it myself.

JED: Anything with a chocolate base and candy-like boulders works for him. New York Superfudge Chunk ... Rocky Road ... you get the idea. Ben AND Jerry are his heroes.

ITTYBIT: Used to be Mint Chocolate Chip (or Oreo something-or-other at Ralph's Pretty Good Cafe) but now she's favoring Cookie Dough wherever she goes ... even in our kitchen as we bake.

THE CHAMP: Although a man of few words at the moment, he gets his vanilla desire across fairly plainly. Lately though -- and as a result of The Other Mom not believing he really wanted the Mint Chocolate Chip he asked for by pointing -- he's found his true bliss is a literal blast, after she chose "Fireworks," a vanilla-based flavor from Stewart's Shops that features Pop Rocks candies, for him instead.

She's all about haut cuisine ...

annabel made dinner, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

My father called me one evening last week, a little while after the kids had gone to bed, to warn me of something he had done that *could, potentially, perhaps, most likely, but maybe not* cause a problem. It was something he thought that I should know about so I could be on lookout for trouble …

Got it?

Yeah, neither did I.

What could possibly be WORSE than teaching a then-three-year-old to open the refrigerator by herself? … Or swing down the staircase one step at a time holding on to the handrail? … Or to unlatch her own seatbelt? What could be worse than realizing she’d dialed Guam instead of Gram when the phone bill arrives?


PAPA: “Well, I let her use a sharp knife to cut carrots and strawberries. …

Then there was a pause …

ME: “Ok?”

PAPA: “By herself. … But I told her she’s NOT to try it without mom or dad watching.”

ME: “Oh … I’m not worried,” I lied, thinking immediately of the scar I’d gotten while trying to cut apples when I was seven – two years older than Ittybit.

PAPA: “She was so pleased with herself.”

I was thinking of this little exchange Sunday evening as we were returning home from the second of two weekend parties for newly five-year-old friends.

ME: “I have a great idea!” I said with the borrowed enthusiasm of a game-show host. “Why don’t YOU make dinner tonight?”

HER: SILENCE.

I’m guessing now the lack of response was the disbelief that some unmentioned DREAM was FINALLY coming true, because when we got home she went straight to work …

Assembling leftovers from the refrigerator into one of the most artful (not to mention tasty) meals ever served in our home.

And then, while I was putting Silas to sleep, she decided to tackle dessert: “Sliced Strawberries on Oreos.”

Yet, because I wasn’t watching, the knife she used to slice the strawberries was of the butter variety.

Now I know I’m biased, but I don't think you can blame me for thinking she really is the best.

Today's snack was brought to you by the letter "L"

That's what the teachers at The Marilla Cuthbert Academy for Unspeakably Charming Children are demanding, anyway.

Really? Let me see ... A healthy snack that doesn't contain chocolate or refined sugar ... AND something that begins with the letter "L."

(DO YOU ALL SEE WHY I HATE SCHOOL?)

The following is a list of brainstormed items coupled with Ittybit's responses in parentheses:

La-la-la Lemons? (Too puckery, but lemonade would be fine).
Lemon-poppyseed muffins? (Naw).
Leeks? (What are they)?
Lobster? (Yech).
Lox? (That's not even food).
Liverwurst? (Uh, NOOOO)!
Lamb? (WHAT? Those cute and cuddly things)?
Lumpfish? (That just sounds not good).
Lutefisk? (I don't even want to know what THAT is).
Lentils? (I suppose. ... it's a soup, right)?
Lasagna? (At least I've heard of that).

Lollipops? (But teacher said 'No lollipops').
I'm sure she won't mind if they're made of apples ...

Of course ... on second thought, she's going to be none-too-happy about the skewers ... Maybe we can just saw the pointy parts off.

Lather, rinse, repeat

whadyamean bath?, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

"I can still smell the tomato sauce in his hair."

"Well, it wasn't me who bought tomato scented shampoo."

"No, you just cooked and served it."

Because I am your MAUTHER!!!

gurlfiend, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

Lately we've created a place in our house, which, if it were orbiting, lightyears away from an early Star Wars set, would best be described as fun-sucking void where no sounds of glee can be heard.

It's next to the refrigerator, between the kitchen and dinning room.

And I am the gatekeeper.

Now as gatekeeper, I have standards to uphold.

Whenever there is even the hint of an uplifted lilt in a tiny voice over the steam of peas or the froth of milk, I stand there, arms crossed, breathing with my loudest ujjayi breath, lording over the proceedings.

"THERE WILL BE NO MIRTH IN THIS HOUSE," I bellow. "I HAVE DECREED IT and I. AM. YOUR. MAAAAUUUUUTHER. LUUUUUUKE."

And the giggles just bubble over the edge of the dinner table, popping each other as they multiply.

Even Silas thinks Darth Vader is funny.

Food for thought

snack, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

Food has never been my favorite topic. As the old saw goes: Some people eat to live and other people live to eat.

I don't really fit into either of those little niches.

I'm the person who seriously considers (and sometimes actually manages to) pack a healthy lunch but usually just eats whatever my pocket change buys from the bank of vending machines in the cafeteria.

Sadly, I approach the kids' lunches with the same wistful enthusiasm and failure to follow through.

I search flickr for lunch ideas; I buy resuable lunchboxes and have adopted some of the tricks used by bento box afficianados. I think about all the pretty things I can send for the babysitter to feed my kids while I'm at work.

I bask in the glow of the multi-colored foods Annabel has eaten since she was a tot, and wonder exactly when her palate will pale. I soldier through the fact that Silas eats hardly anything besides breastmilk and graham crackers. I know eventually he will eat the beige menu of a normal childhood.

I even dream of the loving little notes I will put in the lunch boxes once the kids can read.

On Monday mornings the sitter laughs at me as I show up with the kids and a grocery bag full of that day's lunch offerings carefully placed in containers or bagged with colorful ribbons.

Apple slices, berries, three colors of peppers, chicken nuggets, corn, snap peas, carrots, bagels, yogurt, cheerios, oatmeal, soup, corn chips and cookies.

But my ability to continue the planning and procuring of such pretty packages is shortlived.

The downhill slide starts on Tuesday as I'm lucky to have remembered to bring the kids. By Friday, if it weren't for the sitter, my kids would be eating lint from the floor and drinking water from the toilet.

You know where this is going, right?

you know where this is going, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

This little pea stone is going right in the boy's mouth.

No hesitation. No awkward fumbling over fingers and thumbs.

Right in.

He doesn't eat more than a thimbleful of genuine food items in any given day.

A bit of banana here, a taste of yogurt there.

He'll gum graham crackers until they are a taupe-colored paste and he'll share most of his Oatio's with the dog. Then he squirms to get down and prowl the kitchen for leftover cracker crumbs and pieces of dog kibble.

So why am I surprised that out on the playground these little rock morsels wouldn't seem like a delicacy?

What's that smell?

fishface, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

Fish.

And corn.

It's what's for breakfast.

Hhhmmmm, what is this delicacy?

hmmmm, what is this delicacy?, originally uploaded by toyfoto.

Nature's own genetically unmodified, organically grown corn flakes ...

or so we hope.