It was on his head and somehow he missed that....
This insta-morphing into pirates has caused some negotiations this evening about what pirates do and do not do. For instance, (according to Bubba) pirates do not take baths, they do not clean up toys, they do not eat anything but go-gurts for dinner and they do not listen to their mothers. I disagreed vocally with all of these things and he and I had to do some making up before I put him to bed.
In happier news, I had to pick up Junior a new plunger at the Dollar Store (sterile, name written on it to differentiate from the 'real' household plungers. Any questions refer back a few posts). He played with the old plunger so much that it cracked and he has been bugging me for days (DAYS!!!) for an intact one. I finally picked one up today and before I could throw the old one out, Bubba inherited it. He picked it up reverently and asked me:
"Can I have this one? Forever!!??"
"Uh, sure" (wondering why I spent so much on Christmas and how do I make this work for his birthday in a few weeks).
He asked me to cross off Junior's name and put his in case there was any mistaking who was the new owner of the cheap, dollar store plunger with a big chunk missing out of it. They played with their new 'toys' all evening. Even I, who has seen Junior use it as the main object of his playing for weeks, was shocked at how many things you can do with a plunger (aside from the obvious). For example; oars, a walking cane, swords, tails, ninja pole (Bubba asked me to 'be the ninja that fights him' and after I came up with my best moves and let him kill me once, he told me that 'I could go back to my computer or the kitchen.' He clearly wasn't impressed.) The title of this post is something I actually found myself hollering when it was time to get ready for bed and no one was listening. I filed it away in the "things I never, ever, ever expected to say" section of my brain and then took a moment to mourn my really expensive college degree. After the kiddos were down, I filled a big garbage sack with toys headed for DI. I can see now how pioneer kids made rocks and sticks work as toys. They both took their plungers to bed with them tonight. I am going to take it on faith that they are listening when I tell them that plungers with names on them never go in the toilet.
Sis has decided that now she is one, she should walk everywhere (crawling is for babies). I am torn between mama-pride and the overwhelming side of me that wants to figure out how to keep her my baby forever. She has also transitioned over to real milk and digs it so much that she is most often seen with a sippy attached to her face. I switch it out with plain water sometimes, but she is getting wise to me (she'll take it but look mournfully at me while shaking her head "no"). I dig her new pink pony jammies and am starting to wish I had picked them up in every size for her to grow into until pink pony jammies are not fashionably acceptable to her anymore.
When she is kind of tired, I like to go sit down where she is playing. She will see me, stop what she is doing, crawl as fast as she can up into my lap and will nestle her head on my shoulder, tuck her legs up and pat my back. When she isn't tired she will just climb over and grab my face with her little razor baby nails, which isn't nearly as fun. Worth it though, because the moments of cuddling are like medicine for my battered heart. It's the back patting that clinches it.