Like a Wooby, Except Not

While I have decided that we're all just fine paying for diapers for several more years, Mila's daycare teacher is, shall we say, less laid back. I'm truly not going to fight a kid who doesn't want to try out the potty thing, but that lady is.

More power to her.

That means Mila is living in both worlds. At home, she's totally in charge of what she wants to do with her own little booty. I ask if she wants to go often, but I don't push the issue. At school, there's a drill sergeant cheerily and endlessly encouraging her. There's a schedule that has to be followed, a sticker chart, M&Ms, and lots of coaxing. If anybody is wondering which tactic is working better, let me just say my blood pressure is a lot lower than the drill sergeant's. Some kids really do have complete control over their own world. It's almost as if toddlers are real people who can form real opinions ...


If you pile both situations together, Mila is hearing a lot of potty talk. In turn, that's the center of a whole lot of what she wants to talk about these days. One conversation earlier this week led to another and somehow I found myself standing in front of toddler underwear at Target.

Given the choice between superheroes, princesses, and the weird pig cartoon thing, Mila picked the plain ones. Seriously. Mila desperately wanted underwear and then passed up the fun characters for solid purple briefs.

Oooookay, then.

So I bought her the underwear. (Which, btw, I can't call "big kid underwear" because Mila insists she is a BABY not a big kid. Like, she'll rip your head off if you call her a "big kid.") The good news is that I didn't expect that she would actually want to wear them. The better news was that I was right about that.

Mila has no interest in wearing the purple underwear.

She just wanted to have them. So she could carry them with her everywhere.

So! Just in case you've spotted us in public in the past few days, there you go. There's the explanation. There is in fact a reason that Mila has been carrying underwear around with her everywhere and it's because she wants to.

It's really not worth arguing with her her about it.



So Many Accurate Observations

I don't know what the magical age is, but there's a magical age when artsy handprints no longer do the trick for Mothers Day. Basically, Mila can slap some paint on something, smear it for a second, and OMG SHE'S THE CUTEST EVERRRR! but Alexis is going to have to step it up. Her handprints have been all over my fridge and windows for so long that they long ago lost their cute.

Left to her own devices, Alexis is amazing at picking gifts. That girl can step up her game like nobody's business. That said, if you constrain her, you get interesting results.

Enter this year's school project for Mothers Day.

The assignment was to draw the cover of People Magazine with your mom on it and then write an essay explaining why she deserves to be on the cover of the magazine. I can see the cute in this assignment, but I have to try. Alexis didn't bother to try. She just flat-out thought it was dumb, which is why she called it in. I'm not allowed to share photos of the ... uh ... "masterpiece" because the artist has banned such sharing. I can describe it, though!

The picture. Let's start with Alexis' lovely drawing of me. First of all, the kid CAN draw. She's actually pretty good at it. I wouldn't bet my savings on her growing up to be an illustrator, but she gets by. And yet, the drawing of me makes it look like half my face is melting. I have a unibrow. My lips are  Kardashian in size. Basically, I look a hot mess.

And then there's the essay.

There are three reasons why Alexis thinks I should be on the cover of People Magazine:

1. I drive her everywhere she needs to be. If that's not a heck of an astute observation, I don't know what is. It's good that Alexis appreciates my chauffeur skills.

2. I bake good foods. Again, this is a decent observation. I'd rather be known for kindness than my ability to bake a mean cupcake, but I suppose they're kind of the same thing.

3. I give Alexis my "free item" coupons for Bath and Body Works. This too is true, but COME ON.

At least when I'm on the cover of People Magazine for giving my kid coupons, I won't be recognizable.



Oh, Man. It's Going To Be Bad.

I have a long-held opinion that age two is no big deal. It's pleasant, even. Three, however, is the devil.

Guess who turns three next week!

But, the weird thing is, I've not been scared of three with Mila. I don't know why, but for the most part she has been stunningly easygoing as of late. She's a happy little imp who mostly says what she wants and is then reasonable when she doesn't get it. There's no reason to think that three will be particularly hard with her.


Nothing says "Happy Mothers Day!" like a toddler who suddenly decides that making a scene in a restaurant would be a great idea. I took Alexis and Mila to dinner Friday night because I'm nice and stuff, and Mila returned the favor by turning into a rotten beast. It started with a general need to yell every thought that crossed her mind, and escalated when the food arrived.

You guys, it is totally unacceptable when food shows up on your plate. It's supposed to all be on mom's plate so you can steal it. You can't have your own plate of food. That's dumb.

When Mila's pancakes, eggs, and potatoes (which were exactly what she requested ... not that it matters) showed up on her plate, she was pissed. She escalated from pissed to furious and then angry moved every last scrap of food. Basically, she picked up each little piece one at a time and then threw it all on my plate. When she was done and her plate was clean, she sighed loudly and yelled, "That's better!"

Then she moved it all back.

Because of course.

So which corner should I hide in? I'm ready to start huddling up in the fetal position and rocking until we get past three.