Sophia was oddly hyper that day (2/8/10). It may have been due to the bright color selection or it’s also possible that her selection was a reflection of her mood. I had such a hard time getting a good shot of her that I started running up and down the stairs hoping that would slow her down enough for me to focus on her. I put her hair up in a ponytail and wanted pictures of that, so Kurt tried to help me by holding her, and upside-down. Then she ran in and out of her room giggling as Kurt chased her. He finally caught the elusive toddler again to complete her look for the day. Those are dress shoes he’s putting on her, with socks, she insisted.

Yes, she actually went out in public looking like that. We aren’t cruel. It was her choice.

The friend that would be feeding the dogs for us on this occasion is similar to me in our cooking methods. We feel spending three hours in the kitchen to create a meal similar to those served by a farmer’s wife in the 1940’s is more satisfying and nutritious than the “Hungry Man” in the freezer section that takes five minutes in the microwave. Neither of us even owns a microwave. I know, it’s sacrilege. At the bottom of the note I wrote the following to her:

The half a pumpkin pie in the refrigerator is for you and your hubby. Don’t worry, we didn’t touch that half. I made it all myself from scratch, including the crust. Well, actually I didn’t grow the pumpkins from seedlings with time, love, and bedtime stories. I didn’t even buy pre-nurtured pumpkins from the store to use. They were all out. I guess this year was a bad one for pumpkin growing. I did however use two very nice undented cans of pumpkin puree. Oh, I also didn’t milk the cows for the cream I used, or raise the chickens for the eggs. *hanging my head in shame* I didn’t even grow the spices. Damn, I guess it’s not as scratchy as I made it out. But it’s still really good pie. I hope you enjoy it.

The story behind the 55 and a little beyond: Last weekend we had a day set aside for potty training. I barricaded Sophia and myself in our basement floor because it’s tiled and there is a bathroom. We played with the big LEGOS and read lots of books. We got bored after a while so I gave her a blue pen and paper. I knew she would draw on herself a little but I ignored it. I heard her drawing on the paper and after about a minute turned to look at her and there she was, Smurf toddler.

Shortly after the pictures, I sat her on the potty and read a few more books while she did nothing. She did the sign for dirty and wanted to wash her hands at the sink so I let her. A couple minutes later she came out saying, “wet, wet, wet”. I’m looking at her like, “no shit, you were just playing in the sink.” Then I saw the blue trail from the ink washing off the bottom of her feet.
“Oh, you peed?”
“Yes.”

Kurt got a little bent out of shape about Smurf toddler. He asked me if it was a special washable pen. I said, “It was a pen off your desk. I’m sure it’ll come off eventually.”

A little later Sophia peed in the potty. She sat on the potty for about 30 minutes while I read to her. She started to go and then looked at me, “uh oh, wet, wet,” and she tried to hold it. Then she saw my big smile and realized it was a good thing, “Yay! Are you peeing in the potty?”
“Yes” she smiled.

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

Doctors seek food labels on choke dangers

Thousands of U.S. children are treated each year — and 100 die — because of choking, and food is the leading cause.

Let’s be clear. That is the heading and subheading of the article. Within the article itself reads, “Of the 141 choking deaths in kids in 2006, 61 were food-related.” That’s 141 choking deaths of kids from birth to 14 years, and 61 in the ENTIRE country were due to food.

Doctors say high-risk foods, including hot dogs, raw carrots, grapes and apples — should be cut into pea-sized pieces for small children to reduce chances of choking. Some say other risky foods, including hard candies, popcorn, peanuts and marshmallows, shouldn’t be given to young children at all.

You mean everything that parents give as healthy snacks are a choking hazards. Wow, got it. Apples are the only thing on the first list that Sophia will even eat. I’ve NEVER cut them into pea-sized pieces, NEVER. I started by cutting them into wedges without the skin, then with the skin, and now she prefers grabbing a whole apple. She won’t eat the whole thing, but that’s how she wants it served. I’ve seen how normal toddlers eat, so I can see why someone would start out with tiny pieces, but that’s the point. If parents are allowed to use just a tiny bit of brainpower, they’ll figure it out. It doesn’t take much.

The second list explains why I would get such dirty looks from mothers my own age, but not from the grandmas at Sophia’s swim class. I *shock* gave her peanuts, cashews, and almonds to snack on after class. They don’t identify what ages qualify as ‘young children’, but I’ll wager that a two-year old is in that general range.

Federal law requires choking warning labels on certain toys including small balls, balloons and games with small parts. There should be a similar mandate for food, the pediatrics academy says.

We want products that make everything easier but have ZERO risk. Now Make it happen! You see, the fundamental difference between balloons and food is that food is supposed to go in the mouth. Food is supposed to be swallowed. And hot dogs *twitch* do in fact qualify as food, even though they smell like rancid ass and are the only meat that plump when they’re cooked. I’m just sayin’.

If The American Academy of Pediatrics gets their way and things like carrots are sold with warnings then you can count on me to march lockstep with them. That’s right I’ll totally back them on this, no joke. I’ll make sure to push my own requirement that all penises are labeled as a potential gagging hazard. I mean really, we don’t want anyone to cause themselves any discomfort. The warning shall read, “May transmit STDs including but not limited to HIV and herpes. Depending on use can be a potential gagging hazard or cause pregnancy.” Of course to be fair the vagina should also have a warning, and then extra warnings just for women concerning pregnancy, “The overall pregnancy-related mortality ratio was 11.8 deaths per 100,000 live births and ranged from 10.3 in 1991 to 13.2 in 1999.” Between 1991 and 1999 there was a range of 3,882,000 to 4,111,000 live births per year in the United States. The average comes out to 3,976,330, divide it by 100,000 and then multiply by 11.8 to get the average number of pregnancy-related mortalities of 469 a year.

Just think of it. If we can really use warnings to keep people away from things hazardous to their health like cigarettes then a warning like that over genitals ought to keep everyone a masturbating virgin until death. We won’t ever have to worry about children choking on another pseudo meat product ever again.

I helped my invisible toddler around the adults so that she could play where she wanted. There were a couple other toddlers near her and their parents, a couple feet from me, were watching them. One mother observed how their two toddlers seemed oblivious of the kids around them and kept bumping into everyone to get the toys they wanted. She made the general sweeping remark, “Isn’t it funny how kids don’t seem to notice anyone else around them?” My kid doesn’t seem to have that problem, but whatever.

Sophia wanted to go to the other side of that area and tried to get around sweeping-generalizations-woman who was standing right in the middle. Sophia tried to go around the front of her, but the woman shifted her weight thereby blocking the path. Sophia went around the other side of the woman, and she almost made it. Not two minutes after her observation of toddlers, the woman sidestepped right into Sophia. Sophia didn’t fall, just stumbled, but the woman was completely oblivious. It seems to be a hereditary gene.

She must have remembered that party, because as Kurt and I approached their front door Sophia grabbed Kurt’s finger in an attempt to drag him back to the car. After we got through the door and into their playroom for a few minutes, she was fine.

We had five, count them FIIVE, two-year olds, a three year old, a five year old, and a six year old. The place became rather loud. At some point those of us in the house were trying to pawn off children to those in the garage with the homemade beer and projector screen TV, but they all kept coming back. I didn’t catch all of what was said, but at some point the husband of the hostess was apologizing for the kids coming back. She said it was ok because we’ve already missed about half the game, and I said, “there’s a game on?” Not that I care, I didn’t even know who was playing. Well, ok I could name one team, but I don’t know who won this year. I don’t understand the game anyway, and I was busy feeding Sophia brownies (not that kind!), chips and a Reese’s peanut butter cup.

It was a day of a lot of firsts. Sophia didn’t just play along side the other kids, she actually played with them for a bit. She also said about ten words to our host who was just tickled by it since Sophia warmest look towards him has always been a scowl.

After the game was over and one of the toddlers went home, the rest of the younger kids were put into PJs and set loose. I don’t know how it started (probably by the two older kids) but they all started running laps around the inside of the house. One of the toddlers took a corner a little two sharp. That’s gonna be a huge welt on the forehead, but he literally shook it off and got back in the race. Round and round they went, then the kids started to change directions. You know this is going to end badly. Sophia seemed to take the longest to realize the traffic flow had changed, either that or she just likes swimming upstream. Round and round they went some more.

It was the two eldest kids that collided. The boy received a tooth to the forehead and the girl partly tore the bit of skin that is attached from the upper lip to the gums. The girl seemed to be in more pain. She was sitting on the counter having her mouth inspected by her personal nurse. Sophia offered a hug. The host, the one Sophia typically only scowls at, lifted her up so she could give her hug. My child has empathy. If she didn’t look exactly like us (mostly me) I’d be taking her right back to the hospital and demanding they give me my real child. This just isn’t possible. It’s like a genetic anomaly that between Kurt and I, we have a child with empathy. It must be a phase.

While the older kids were having their injuries inspected Sophia and the older girl’s toddler sister each grabbed one of Kurt’s hands and forced him to run laps with them. No joke. He didn’t actually run, I mean the man is 6’4”, but apparently the girls wanted someone to boss around and Kurt fit the bill.

As we were all leaving, Sophia and her sidekick gave each other a hug. I think these two may become best friends. Over the summer at one of the parties from the same hosts, these two even kissed…on the lips.

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55’s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

A couple weeks ago I was doing a lot more driving than I would like, much more than the usual. This translates to exposure of an unusually high amount of stupid drivers, and that makes me rather grumpy. The specific type of driver that I’m thinking about is the one that not only wants to share the road but the specific space I’m occupying at the same time. In order to inform such a driver that this feat is impossible I require a loud horn. You, Honda, have faithfully provided this. However, we need to chat about the location of this horn. In my futile attempt to gain the attention of my fellow driver I merely pounded the living shit out of the airbag.

I understand that for safety, many people like airbags and a very convenient place for that item is the center of the steering wheel. If it is impossible for the horn to be in the center with the airbag behind or to the sides, I contend that your loyal customers should be given a choice. Either an air bag for the occasion that one might get into an accident or a horn in the center of the steering wheel in order to avoid an accident. I would happily take the latter as that scenario happens with more frequency than the first for me.

Thank you,

Loyal Honda Driver

This nail putty is nail polish remover with wood chips in it. Just pick a can the coordinates with the color wood and when the polish remover evaporates, presto, little wood plug.

I went around the house doing laundry and collecting trash from our many little trash cans. Sophia occupied herself in her room for once, but after about twenty minutes, she became bored and wanted to play with daddy. At this point Kurt was working on the steps leading to the top floor, so much like a cat would while you read a paper or book, Sophia laid right in the way.

Kurt was filling the holes on the bottom step and Sophia laid across the step above with one arm and one leg dangling in the way. His routine was adjusted accordingly to, move toddler arm, putty, putty, move toddler leg, putty, putty, move toddler to next step up.

Last night Sophia was laying across the steps again. Kurt told me about telling this story to a coworker then asked Sophia, “Do you remember helping daddy finish the stairs?”

“YES!”

“Did you get your first contact high?”

“YES!”