Choosing Costumes.

Last night we went to Target to pick out some Halloween costumes. They were 40% off, which is the only reason I went. I figured I would get a discount and just go ahead and knock out that task so I wouldn’t have to fool with it later. Lottie decided she wanted to be a monarch butterfly. Bella decided she wanted to be a unicorn. This was curious, as Bella is the one that loves butterflies, and Lottie is the one that loves unicorns. But whatever, I left the store this way, trusting their decisions.

This was a mistake.

The second we got home it turned into unicorn pandemonium. Both kids wanted that unicorn and no one gave a crap about the butterfly. This led me to calling my mother and asking her to run to Target at 8:30pm to see if she could get another unicorn costume. I live 30 minutes away from Target, (yes, life is hard) so it was easier for her to run over there. 5 minutes later she called to say they were sold out. Meanwhile my kids were screaming. Tears. Bloodshed. Wailing. They were about to rip that unicorn in two.

Meanwhile, one of my coworkers was calling me about a suspected serial killer on the loose in the neighborhood, (okay, I’m exaggerating, but the police were searching for someone on our road so I’m just going to go ahead and assume it was a serial killer). My kids are screaming in the background, I’m trying to order a unicorn off Target.com, and she’s telling me not to answer if someone comes knocking at my door and to call her and the cops. So I informed her, amidst the screaming, if someone were to come knocking at my door at this point, I was probably going to open it and hand off my two screaming children, plus unicorn. I have to stop in the middle of my rant and yell at Lottie, “DON’T YOU TAKE THE TAG OFF THAT BUTTERFLY COSTUME. THAT BUTTERFLY IS GOING BACK TO THE STORE.”

This is my life, people. This is my life.

There was no serial killer that came to my door. My kids eventually calmed down. I’ve ordered another unicorn online. It’ll be here Tuesday. Tuesday can’t get here fast enough. I’ve managed to manipulate  convince Bella into letting Lottie have the current unicorn, by talking up that Bella will get the NEW one, the BETTER one, the one that is coming IN THE MAIL. Last night Lottie slept with her gigantic unicorn costume. Its head was on her pillow. It looked like a scene out of the Godfather.

So far, Halloween is looking promising.

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The Disney gator attack is a tragedy. Now is not the time to point fingers.

Grand Floridian Resort. Photo Credit: Christian Lambert, Flickr

Grand Floridian Resort. Photo Credit: Christian Lambert, Flickr

As if Orlando has not seen enough tragedy already over the past few days, a little boy got snatched by an alligator on the grounds of the Grand Floridian Resort in Disney World yesterday. His body was found this afternoon.

I have a two-year-old (and a six-year-old) and I found myself reading every article I could find on the incident online this morning. After reading each article, I let my eyes move on to the comments section. I don’t know why I do this, I regret it every time. The comments section almost always makes me sad for humanity.  To be fair, I came across many supportive comments, those that said they were praying for the family, expressing the shock and horror that we were all feeling. And yet, inevitably, there were also shameful comments. Comments that blamed the parents. Didn’t the parents SEE the no swimming signs? I mean, they were all over the place! Didn’t those parents know how common alligators are in Florida and that they feed at night? Where WERE the parents? Why weren’t they watching him closer? Why wasn’t the two-year-old in the playpen 20 or 30 yards away from the water like his sister?

Listen. He was splashing around in less than a foot of water while his parents watched. From the reports I’ve read, it sounds like the father was right there with him. I’m sure the parents saw the no swimming signs, but the kid wasn’t swimming. If I had been at this resort and seen “No Swimming” signs, I would have assumed it was because there were no lifeguards on duty and resort didn’t want people drowning. I would not have assumed that “No Swimming” meant “No Swimming Because There Might Be Gators In The Water”. I’m sure they didn’t know alligators can be found in many unexpected places in Florida or that they often feed at dusk and at night, because they aren’t from Florida, they’re from Nebraska. I didn’t know these things until today either, and I only found out reading articles about the attack and doing some gator research of my own.

These people were on VACATION. I can only imagine how EXCITED they were to be on vacation at Disney. Who knows how long they have had this trip planned. Maybe it was their first time bringing the kids. Who knows? The child was innocently splashing around, with his father, in shallow water. He was probably being a typical two-year-old and didn’t want to sit still in a playpen and got excited when he saw water and wanted to explore. When it comes to what wildlife these parents might have expected their child to come in contact with, I imagine it might have crossed their minds he might find a frog. Not be snatched by a alligator.

This all comes on the heels of the Cincinnati Zoo gorilla debate on whether or not the parents were at fault, whether they should be held accountable for the death of the gorilla.

I am one of those parents that are afraid of everything and it’s stories like these that make me that way. It’s not just that the stories themselves scare me and make me feel all “OMG MY KID COULD FALL INTO A ZOO EXHIBIT. LET’S NOT GOT TO THE ZOO.”

Or:

“OMG MY KID MIGHT GET SNATCHED BY AN ALLIGATOR NEAR A BODY OF WATER. LET’S NOT GO TO ANY DISNEY RESORT, EVER. OR ANY BODY OF WATER, EVER.”

What bothers me the most is the the crushing criticism of these parents by the public. Why weren’t you watching? Where were you? Why did you allow that? Why didn’t you stop it? WHY DID YOU LET THAT HAPPEN?

Sometimes things happen. Sometimes accidents happen. We, as human beings, make mistakes. And more than that, we cannot control absolutely everything around us all the time. Some things are just out of our control. I know we all like to think that we can be in control all the time, especially when it comes to our families and our children. But the ugly truth is, there are other factors at play, other factors that can rip that control right out of your hands and push you to the ground and knock the wind right out of you. Things are going to happen, and sometimes, unfortunately, those “things” are going to be tragedies.

So why can’t we just see this for what it is? It’s a TRAGEDY. A family went on vacation and they lost their little boy in a really horrific way. I’m sure those parents are going to have nightmares about what they saw happen to their baby for the rest of their lives. Why can’t we just FEEL for them? Why do some people have to play the blame game? These parents have enough to deal with right now without having to deal with people pointing fingers. They’re probably going to feel guilty all on their own, (not that I think they should, that’s just how this grief thing works). They might regret taking the vacation at all, or at the specific time that they did. They might regret choosing that specific resort. They might regret going out to the beach for that movie night, wished they had just stayed in.

What was supposed to be a special family vacation, to a magical place, something that they were probably hoping would become a treasured family memory that they would talk about for years to come, turned into a nightmare in an instant.

See this for what it is: a tragedy. A tragedy that none of us, myself included, ever, EVER, want to experience.

My heart goes out to this family. If I could tell them anything, it would be that I think they did everything that they could. That they did nothing wrong. And that I wish that their vacation had gone as planned.

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Thoughts on my child’s last day of kindergarten.

This time last year I was wrapping up my child’s last day of preschool. I dropped her off as usual, walked her to her classroom, hung her bag on her hook. When I came to pick her up, there was an ice cream party and many pictures were taken. We were sent home with a bag full of her artwork, crafted over the course of the year. We pulled her bag off her hook, along with her name and photograph that hung next to it, and I felt my heart break a bit. I said goodbye to the little school we had come to know and love over the past two years. Goodbye class. Goodbye teachers. Goodbye hallway. Goodbye hook. Goodbye preschool.

There wasn’t much time to mourn, as we were quickly swept up into summer activities: summer camps and vacations and playing outdoors. We prepared for kindergarten and went to play dates and met our new friends. We worked on our summer reading list and summer project. We shopped for our school supplies and waited to hear who our teacher would be. Then came kindergarten phase in day. I stayed at the school that entire first day, but not directly with her. Then there was the first REAL day of school. I cried on phase in day AND the first real day, if you’re wondering.

For the first few weeks of school, I parked in the parking lot and walked her into the building each day, as all the grades sat in the auditorium waiting to be dismissed to their classrooms. I held her little hand as we walked into the school. After she had hugged and kissed me goodbye, she sat down with her kindergarten companions. Some days she wasn’t quite ready for me to leave. Some days I wasn’t ready to leave either.

Weeks passed, and I decided to start dropping her off in the car line instead of walking her in. That first day, I watched as she scooped up all of her belongings and got out of the car on her own and waved and said, “Goodbye, Mom! I love you!” She shut the door behind her and walked off into the school, through the auditorium doors, all by herself, and I cried. I thought this might be a strange thing to have cried over until one morning I stayed home sick and my husband took her to school and dropped her off and almost cried himself, “She’s so BIG!” he said.

Also during the first few weeks of school, I picked her up in the car rider line at the end of each day and either brought her back to work with me or left work early. Then one day I sent her to aftercare. Of COURSE I cried the first day she went to aftercare. Have you been reading? Do you even have to ask? I was nervous when I went to pick her up that first time, I was worried she would have hated it, that she would ask why I hadn’t come to get her. I was wrong and she LOVED aftercare and from then on out, requested to go every day. On days that I would tell her that I needed to pick her up as a car rider because we had an appointment or something, she would groan, “But whhhhhhy?”

I have gotten used to visiting her in the kindergarten hallway. I know when her lunch time is and what table she sits at, and some days I run over to sit and eat with her even if it’s just for a few minutes. I know where her locker is, with her little Bee sticker that has her name on it. I’ve gone on almost all of her field trips, and there were a bunch of them. There won’t be as many next year.

And now here we are and kindergarten year is over. She won’t be a kindergartener next year. There will be a new crew of kinder babies, of newbies. Bella is so excited about first grade. She thinks it makes her so BIG. She’s excited to not be the youngest anymore. But me? I’m kinda sad. I like her being the baby in the school, but she can’t be the baby forever, can she?

I’ve watched her grow so much this year. She’s made new friends and has gone on her first sleepovers. She learned to ride her bike. She’s learning to read and is getting really good at artwork and drawing pictures. She’s doing well in math and sometimes surprises me with what she can figure out.

Last week she requested to get her ears pierced, and went through with it, even when I thought she wouldn’t. She’s started taking showers and has declared that she will no longer take bathes because they’re for “babies”. I don’t believe her because I know she still loves colored bath tabs, bubbles and her bath toys too much to give them up forever.

She’s getting so big, so fast, and some days I don’t know how we got here. I still recall what it felt like to be pregnant with her. My memories of that newborn I brought home from the hospital are still so clear and crisp in my mind. I remember the weight of her in my arms, the smell of her skin and hair. That baby grew into a little girl that loved to watch Curious George and Calliou. She won’t watch those shows anymore. Who knew I would actually MISS Calliou? I remember the little girl that toddled about the indoor mall playground, struggling to climb the soft plastic equipment. Now she is almost too big for that playground and basically tramples all the toddlers that are cautiously exploring as she once did. I remember the little girl that hated the beach the first summer we went and just sat on a towel under an umbrella, dumping water from one bucket to another. That little girl buries herself in the sand now and passionately flings herself into the ocean with abounding joy.

This year, this milestone in our lives, went by so fast. Did I eat lunch with her enough times? Did I take enough pictures? Did I save enough of her artwork? Did I embrace it? Because some days I was just trying to survive, I’ll admit that. Next year there will be a new teacher, in a new room, on a different floor. There will be different classmates, and we will make new friends. It will all be new (okay, not all of it, it is still the same school after all,) and it will be exciting and fun. With each new stage of life, we grow and we learn. It’s scary and wonderful at the same time, but I still can’t help to look to the past, to hold onto it, and think, “Remember when?”

Am I ready for this? Am I ready for her to move on?

It doesn’t matter.

It’s coming whether I’m ready or not.

Bring it on, first grade.

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“Games” my 2-year-old plays

I want to begin this post with the fact that I love my 2-year-old (Lottie May). She is bright and sweet and fun, but I would be outright lying if I didn’t say that sometimes she’s also a flat out jerk that makes me want to pull out my own hair.

Here are some current “games” that Lottie likes to play that are totally ruining my life awesome.

“Everything is mine”

The other day I was walking around the house when Lottie started pointing at the socks I was wearing and yelling, “Mine! MINE!” She then proceeded to try and pull one of them off my foot and had a total meltdown when I told her it was NOT her sock, it was in fact MY sock, which was why it was on MY foot. Everything is hers and when she gets her sticky, freakishly strong little fingers around whatever it is that she insists is hers, good LUCK getting it back in one piece. GOOD LUCK.

“I do it myself”

We have entered the realm of independence where Lottie wants to do everything herself, like dress herself, change her own diaper, or pour her own juice. I want her to exercise her independence, but this usually means I’m going to wind up with juice spilled all over the floor, poop smeared all over the bedroom rug, and a kid wailing with her head stuck in the arm hole of her shirt and insisting it’s my fault.

“Car is on, shoes are off.”

My oldest played this game. It was pretty simple: if I put her in the car, she took her shoes off and threw them in the floor. I admit, it was super irritating when EVERY TIME WE STOPPED I had to put her shoes back on. It was even more infuriating when I was in a hurry, if we were running late and I was having to hunt shoes and socks and put them on her feet when I was ready to get her out of the car. However, my youngest child takes this game to a new level. What she does is take off her socks and shoes, throws them in the floor and them proceeds to have an ABSOLUTE MELTDOWN about it. She screams like she is being murdered, to the point that I think my ear drums are going to explode or that I am just going to lose my %$!#* mind. What remedies this problem? If I pull over and put her shoes back on. But within 5 minutes, guess what happens? Go ahead. Just guess.

“This little piggy”

Lottie loves to play “This Little Piggy” over and over and over and over and over again. On Saturday morning it’s pretty common place for her to climb into our bed and slam her bare foot into my face, just about breaking my nose, and declare “PIGGY!” She also does this in the car when she is having her “I want you to pull over and put my shoes back on meltdown.” She sticks that foot up in the air a

This is Lottie's foot in my face this morning as she demanded to play "Piggy".

This is Lottie’s foot in my face this morning as she demanded to play “Piggy”.

nd shrieks “PIGGY! PIGGY! PIGGYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!” It doesn’t occur to her that Mommy can’t play “Piggy” because Mommy is operating a motor vehicle and trying to keep everyone alive, oh no. And when my 6 year old tries to help and play “Piggy” with her, Lottie sticks her finger out and says “NO BELLA! NO!!!!” Mommy is the only one that is allowed to play Piggy. The. Only. One.

“I don’t act like this with Daddy.”

One evening my husband spent two hours outdoors doing yard work and Lottie happily played on her own, sitting in the grass digging around in dirt or picking flowers or playfully trotting along behind him. I stood at the window and looked out there in amazement. Had it been me out there that kid would have been latched onto my legs, screaming, begging to be picked up, whining for a snack, whimpering to go inside. She would have climbed me like a tree and screamed as if everything in the world was wrong. That child acts like if it were possible for her to climb right back into my womb and curl up in the fetal position she totally would. If she could put me on and wear me around like a jacket, she absolutely would. As I pondered this, she turned around and looked toward the window I was looking out of and I jumped and hid behind the curtain. Out of sight, out of mind.

To sum this up, 2 year olds are delightful and not at all like tiny little dictators. Not at all.

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Car rides with kids.

If you’ve ever wondered what it sounds like in my car on the way home from work/school/day care in the evenings, here’s a glimpse.

This was yesterday, after picking Bella up from school.

Bella: “Mom, when I have a daughter, do you know what I’m going to name her?”

Me: “No, baby, what?”

Bella: “Chickamauga Dam.”

Me: “…….why?”

Bella: “I like the way it sounds. Chickamauga. Chickamauga. Chickamauga. Dam.”

 

Later, we picked my youngest child up from day care and after about 10 minutes in the car on the way home, Bella said:

Bella: “I think we got the wrong Lottie. I think this is someone else’s Lottie.”

Me: “Well who is this one, what’s her name?”

Bella: “Well it’s still a Lottie. It’s just the wrong one.”

Me: “Well what do we call this one?”

Bella: “Lottie. But we will just have to turn this one back in tomorrow for the right one.”

It’s like she thinks all the kids at Lottie’s day care are interchangeable. Like they’re just a litter of shih tzu puppies where you can pick up the wrong one by accident because they’re all pretty much the same thing.

 

And finally, this is what a game of “I spy” in our car sounds like.

Me: “I spy something that begins with the letter ‘C’.”

Bella: “COW! CHICKEN! CAT! CATERPILLAR! I HAVE TO PEE! CLOUDS! CROWS!”

Lottie: “Meow meow? Juice? Blankie?”

I’m not sure if Lottie is actually attempting to play or if she thinks this is a game of just saying the all words she knows.

I can’t deny that they keep things interesting. Loud, weird, funny, and interesting.

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One Eyed Speedy Gonzales

Several months ago I wound up with a spare cat. He was my neighbor’s outdoor cat that just kind of migrated over to our house. He got an eye injury and I (okay, more like my mom) ended up taking care of it and saving his life.

The cat now has one eye and lives with us. He is not my favorite creature, but we tolerate each other.

His name is Speedy Gonzales, and this is what life with Speedy is like:

The Sunday before last my husband was working and I was trying to get a lot done. I was attempting to clean house, pack up any left over Christmas decorations that I missed in the first go-round, and get the girls ready to get out of the house. I had intentions of taking them somewhere fun, like the Creative Discovery Museum, (spoiler- we didn’t make it) and then to run my usual Sunday errands.

My almost 2 year old, Lottie, was in need of a bath that morning, so I put her in the tub. About 10 minutes into her tubby, she pooped in it. I don’t know what it is with this kid, but this is the third time she has done this recently and I’m totally over it.

I got her out of the tub, got her dressed and plopped her in the living room to play with her sister while I cleaned up her excrement. Mom life is fancy, y’all.

While I was dousing the tub with bleach and boiling water, Speedy the One Eyed Jerk attacked Lottie and she started wailing.  He’s prone to pouncing on her, I think because she’s the smallest and he thinks he can take her in a battle. He can, of course, because all he has to do is look at her and she starts freaking out. I grabbed him to put him outside but he had it in his head that he DID NOT want to go outside, so he latched onto my rib cage with one of his claws. I had to pry him off and ended up wounded and bruised and convinced I would end up with cat scratch fever or some other feline related illness and die.

Later, after the tub was clean and I got the girls dressed, I went out to the garage to clean out my car and start loading it with the things I needed for the day (diaper bag, snacks, jackets, books for Bella to read in the car, etc). While I was loading and unloading the car, Speedy jumped in and pooped on my passenger side floor mat.

There is a litter box in the garage and the garage was also open. He had plenty of other places to go. He went in my car because he was mad at me. The end.

Later (after cleaning up the cat crap AFTER cleaning up the Lottie crap) I got the girls in the car and ready to go. Speedy was sitting on top of my car, right smack in the center of the roof, where I couldn’t reach him with my arms. So I pulled out of the driveway thinking he would hop off when the car started moving.

He didn’t.

I drove round and round the cul-de-sac waiting for him to jump off. Nothing. I finally stopped the car and made Bella take off her one of her boots so I could smack at him and get him off.

When I got home from running errands (and not taking the kids to the Creative Discovery Museum) I let Speedy back inside and this is where he went as soon as he got indoors. My bed.

This mai bed. I rulez this house.

Dis mai bed. I rulez dis house.

So. If anyone is in need of a one eyed black cat, let me know. I can totally hook you up.

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Advent Calendar Denial

My daughters have Advent calendars and they have become the bane of my existence.

“Mom, I need to stick my sticker on day 15,” I hear my 5 year old call down the hall.

I hid that day 15 sticker. With each day she ticks off that thing I become more aware of how much I still have to do in such a short amount of time.

So I hid that day 15 sticker. We will do day 15 tomorrow. And 16 at the same time. Unless I also hid 16.

Denial? I don’t know what you are talking about.

If the day isn’t marked off on the advent calendar, it didn’t happen yet. And that’s that.

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Whats been up with me.

I haven’t been blogging as much as I used to. Pretty much since my second child was born, which was, oh I don’t know, about 20 months ago. It would be a big fat lie if I said that parenting two children wasn’t kicking my behind, but whatever. We all have our crap. I’m not going to whine about it. Well, at least not today, anyway. Check back tomorrow.

So anyway, if you’re wondering, here’s whats been up with me.

1. My love affair with popcorn is over.

The other day I was eating some and a piece got lodged in my gums and I was bleeding everywhere and now my mouth hurts. Now I’m terrified of popcorn, which is really unfortunate. I love popcorn.

2. I got sick.

I went to the Minute Clinic and they told me to go to the ER. I didn’t because I had kids that needed to be picked up and homework that needed to be done. I probably didn’t need to go to actually go to the ER,  but I probably should have attempted to pay more attention to myself.

3. I got my whole family sick.

The second I got over my illness, my whole family got it, one by one. There were several high fevers and a trip to Urgent Care and I almost went broke paying co-pays.

4. Getting sick killed my cat.

That requires more of an explanation, I didn’t make my cat sick or anything. I turned the household over to my husband while I was passed out on codeine cough syrup and some things on the “to do list” got missed, like making sure the cats got brought inside for the night.The next morning I was driving our kindergartener to school, when I spotted our cat, dead on the road. I didn’t want to stop and retrieve the animal for two reasons, one being that I didn’t have the time, the second being that I wasn’t prepared to explain to Bella that the cat had died. (More on breaking the news to Bella at a later time…)

So I drove on past our poor dead Gilbert and headed on to school drop off and work. This really bothered me considering that he was going to sit out there all day on a main road getting smashed to bits. I live 30 minutes outside of town, so leaving work and driving back home to get the cat, only to drive all the way back and finish out the work day and pick up my chid was going to require a serious time commitment. Plus explaining to my bosses (who actually are totally understanding) that I would need to leave to go get my dead house cat off the road 30 miles outside of town was just going to be a weird request.

Anyway, I didn’t have to do any of that because my mom, THE HERO, drove out to the country herself, along with some gloves and baggies and collected the animal for me and then kept him on ice until my husband was able to come and retrieve him.

I know, I know. You totally wish your mom was my mom. I would, too, because driving 30 miles to scrape a dead cat off the road and put it on ice? That’s love, man.

Gilbert the First is now resting peacefully in his grave and he has been replaced with One Eyed Speedy Gonzalez (his arrival is also a story for another time). I am determined to keep this one alive. This one has been placed in a reflective collar. I’m considering wrapping his entire body in reflective tape or a strand of flashing twinkling lights,  but that’s still up in the air.

So. Whats been up with you?

 

 

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10 things I meant to do during naptime…and what I really did instead.

I always have grand plans for nap time or when the kids go to bed. It doesn’t always turn out as expected. Here are 10 things I meant to do during nap time, and what I did instead.

 

Plan: Clean.

Reality: I folded one load of laundry while binge watching Orange is the New Black on Netflix. I didn’t even put the laundry away. I just folded it and put in the basket and it just sat there next to me on the couch the entire time.

 

Plan: Meal plan.

Reality: I pinned a bunch of stuff on Pinterest that I’ll never get around to making and didn’t even make a shopping list.

 

Plan: Read a book.

Reality: I read a page and a half and fell asleep.

 

Plan: Catch up on email.

Reality: Spent most of the time stalking people on Facebook.

 

Plan: Craft project.

Reality: I spilled glitter everywhere and then I glued my thumbs together with superglue. I ended up tossing the entire project in the trash and watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

 

Plan: Work out.

Reality: I made margaritas.

 

Plan: Clean out my car.

Reality: I vacuumed the driver’s side and said “Meh, that’s good enough.” Then I left the vacuum in the garage. I’ll get it tomorrow.

 

Plan: Garden.

Reality: It was hot. And dirty. And there was a lizard. I’m just gonna fill the flower beds with gravel. It’ll be great.

 

Plan: Work on my novel.

Reality: Wrote this list instead. What? I wrote SOMETHING alright?

 

Plan: Organize the kitchen cabinets.

Reality: I did! I did one! I organized one cabinet! And the stuff that didn’t fit or that I don’t want anymore is on the counters and the floor but I will deal with that later. I am SO PRODUCTIVE.

 

OK, so maybe I fail at nap time productivity, but is it so bad if I need spend an hour or two doing nothing in order to maintain my sanity? I’m a much better mom, playmate, and wife when I take some time to relax instead of working myself into a frenzy every time the house is quiet. And frankly, productivity is relative. Those margaritas ain’t going to make themselves, you know.

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Books for Tots: Moose, Nancy and Scary Pants

Over year ago I wrote a post about some of my favorite books that I like to read to my daughter. They are also some of her favorite books, which is important. There happen to be a few books that she enjoys that I do not, and vice versa. There might also be times that I hide certain books from her. Maybe.

Anyway, when I wrote the original post, I meant to make it an ongoing thing, but then life happened and I got busy and forgot about it, you know, for a year. So, this is me, giving it another go.

Round two: three more of our favorite books.

photo-5

The Useful Moose

My daughter is a fan of moose. Her favorite stuffed animal is a moose named Moosey that she received for her first Christmas. I think he’s really a reindeer, but “Moosey” just kind of stuck.  Is there a difference between moose and reindeer? I don’t know and I don’t care to Google it. Maybe later.

Anyway, ever since Bella took a liking to Moosey she has collected several other moose stuffed animals and a couple of moose books.

This book is about a little girl who loves moose so much that her family plans an Alaskan vacation so she can see some moose in person. However, when she arrives in Alaska, she can’t find any moose and finds out, from a goose, that they have all gone to the city on vacation. When she returns to her hometown, she finds hundreds of moose vacationing in her own city. Three of them end up as house guests in her home for awhile and her family discovers that they are great housekeepers. I wish I could find a couple of moose to mop my floors and fold laundry.

This book is particularly appealing to Bella because she’s a moose fan, but overall,  it’s a cute book even if your kid is not a moose lover.

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Fancy Nancy

We have had some Fancy Nancy books forever but just recently started reading them. I don’t know why it took us so long to finally pick one up, something about the illustrations just wasn’t appealing to us. The covers of these books often seem quite busy and to be honest, I don’t think they look as enjoyable as they actually are. I think the whole “don’t judge a book by it’s cover” idiom applies here. No hate to Nancy’s illustrators or anything.

Anyway, now that we have started reading these books, Bella loves them and so do I. They teach children, through Nancy’s shenanigans, to expand their vocabulary by introducing “fancier” words than the ones they probably already know; like “celebrity” instead of “famous person” and “delectable” instead of “delicious”. I just purchased a few more of these books for Bella’s Easter basket this year and she was thrilled.

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What Was I Scared Of?

I was a big fan of Dr. Seuss as a child but I never read this particular book until I had children. When Bella was younger she used to call this the “Scary Pants” book because the main character is afraid of a pair of empty pants. It’s silly (what Dr. Seuss book isn’t?) but it’s a lot of fun. Additionally, it’s not one of those Dr. Seuss books that goes on and on and on and you find yourself tripping over nonsense and skipping pages just to get it over with. Seriously, I really do love Dr. Seuss, but you HAVE to know what I am talking about if you’re a parent trying to read your kid a book at the end of a long day.

The particular version that we own glows in the dark, I don’t know if all of them do.  We often read it in the dark with a flash light. Bella and I can both recite this one by heart.

Hopefully next week I’ll be back with three more books we love, we already have them picked out.

See, I’m totally on top of making this an ongoing series…until we run out of books that we like. 😉

 

 

 

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