Snow Hour

Because it wasn't really a snow day. But we made the best of it.

Even Laddie got his roll on. He has fond memories of snow, having been a Vermont dog once, and when we get some he snuffs and rolls and catches snow balls that we throw at him with his mouth.

But everyone got a chance to run around in it like crazy people (and dogs) for 10 minutes.

And then we got to work building a snow fairy. Because, seriously, people, there was about .25 inches of snow, and fairies are little.

Plus, we just like fairies around these parts. But we were pretty proud of our snow fairy.

Isn't she cute?

One of These Things is Not Like the Other

Can you tell which of these is the made-by-a-two year-old snowman and which is the made-by-a-five-year-old snowman?

Me neither.

The World According to Silas

We're getting four and even five words in a row out of Sy these days. It's pretty exciting.
But you've got to get the pronunciation down before you can decipher what he's saying.
Here's little help:

Wan, Two, Tee!: The total number of items he sees, no matter if it's 3 or 723.

Beegoo: Bagel

Mickey: Cream cheese, also can refer to kiwis. So when Yiyi wants a Beegoo with mickey he's asking for breakfast. It's like working at one of those 1950's diners: Hey Billy Joe, give me an Adam and Eve on a raft with some moo juice!


Nuwana: banana

Apple Milk: apple juice

Wow Wood: A big piece of wood

No Wow: little

E: A car, truck or anything with wheels or wings. Including the floor cleaning machine at Home Depot that we had to follow for a few aisles so Sy didn't have a 2 year-old breakdown when it went out of sight.

Wac Dis, Mama! Wan, two, Tee!: Watch this, mama. 1, 2, 3!  Followed by a feat which may include blowing bubbles in the water in such a fervor that he sucks it in instead of out.

YiYi! YiYi! YiYi!: I would like a turn as well.

Pee: Please

Wuby: ruby the cat

Dee-aadie: Laddie the dog

Bee: Mr. Bird the cat

Mommy-ay, Daddy-ay, Deedee-ay: Pet names for me, Will and Sadie

Happy Day, Daddy-ay (or whoever-ay): Happy Birthday, Daddy! Which he likes to sing while he strums a ukulele.

Wadoo: Water.

Ode Wadoo/New Wadoo: Old water, New water. He has been getting very offended by "old water," which is any water he hasn't seen me put into the cup within the previous five minutes.

Key-ucky: Yucky. As in Old wadoo key-yucky!


Me-yummy: Yummy. As in New wadoo me-yummy!


Hay-o, E-o, Bay-o: Hair, Ear and Bear.


Coggy: Sorry. Often with a gentle rub on your cheek.

No way, monkey-ay!: No way.

This last one is new, and like any two year old he is enjoying giving us limits. You've got to keep the old folks aware of who's boss, you know.

Unanticipated Risk

Little did I know that having children would involve a completely ridiculous amount of fat lips. And 97% of them are the product of Silas.
The weirdest part is that almost all of them happen when we are sleeping. Somehow, in the night, he has some sort of dream that causes him to yell, No, no, no!


And, on a side note, what the heck are little kids always dreaming about that they are yelling No! at everyone? I mean, sheesh, you'd think all their dreams are all someone trying to steal their favorite toys or rip their cookie out of their hand or something.

Then, while he's yelling at whoever is stealing his truck or fruit roll-up he pushes his legs out straight and flings himself upward. Into my lip, which hits my teeth and bleeds and swells.
The best part is that as he gets bigger the flopping around has gotten bigger too, leading to this morning's fat lip(s). He managed to get both top and bottom. It's a doozy.

There are many things no one ever tells you about being a mother that you find out later. But I'd have to say fat lips might just be the strangest.

Po Up!

Well, the stomach flu has felled three out of five of us so far (PawPaw included). After three days of throwing up Silas finally, finally has stopped and is on the mend. Now we just have to get some food into him.
But one thing he did learn is that when you're going to throw up people will walk around holding you for hours while you whimper, punctuating your whimpers with puking and brief costume changes since two year olds can't quite get the hang of throwing up in something instead of on everything and everybody.
So he's learned to say Po up! 


Now, when you've been thrown up on consistently for 48 hours you learn to hustle when the sick one mentions more is on the way. So I would grab Sy and walk around with him, until it passed or he puked.

One thing you must know is that he loves to be carried. I know he is just over two, but he is also just over forty pounds, and carrying forty pounds around, especially forty pounds that doesn't particularly hold on tight to you is painful, to say the least. Imagine me strapping 8 bags of flour to your chest and telling you to wander around like that for an hour or so. But, actually, I wouldn't strap it, because that would make it easier.

Anyway, I think there's a formula.
Weight of baby -directly proportional to - amount baby demands to be carried.
Yes, I know that's not a formula. Seeing as how I didn't even finish my third year of high school math I'm sure y'all aren't surprised.

So, Silas figured out yesterday that if he looked at me with his big, blue eyes and said Po up I would pick him up and carry him around for a long time. Finally, by the late afternoon he hadn't thrown up and I looked at him and asked him if he really just wanted to be held.
Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaah he said, grinning. Up! Peek up!


Just tell me that when he's twelve he won't need me to carry him anymore. My back can't take it.