So I’m not up for going into a lot of detail, but I want to remember this stuff down the road.

Angie had a trip for work scheduled to Vegas (for a conference). We talked about me tagging along, but decided against it. Instead, I would play Mr. Mom… The week before, Calen got sick on Thursday and stayed home (with me) on Friday. His fever was gone Sunday morning, so I took him to Daycare on Monday. They sent out a note saying that a lot of kids were sick and please don’t bring them in if they are. I thought I’d do them a favor and tell them that it had come and gone with Calen and share some symptoms.

So about 15 minutes later I get a call saying “Well, Calen is actually still sick”… hmmm, ok, well I’ll come get him (and while I’m there I might as well get Mallory too. So I pick them both up and bring them home. Fifteen minutes later, I hear Mallory say, “DADDY! WE HAVE A MESS HERE!” So I wander into the kitchen to find that she’s had an accident (of the stinky variety) and that it’s escaped onto the floor… Well, gross, but I can do this. And so begins the next 3 days of Mallory being sick out one end, Calen spitting up out the other. The only saving grace was that they took turns and that Mallory made it to the bathroom 4 out of 7 times that first day.

Angie got home from her trip on Wednesday night (just as the kids were feeling better) and they went back to Daycare on Thursday. Friday Daycare was closed, so she stayed home with them.

Then on Saturday Mallory got a fever that lasted a couple days, and on Sunday Calen got the same fever, but his didn’t go way. In fact, it got up to 105 and we went to the doctor. There they decided to prick his finger and take some blood (I offered my finger instead, but they said it didn’t work that way). His blood count came back high, so they wanted to do a catheter and get some “clean urine”. (I did not offer myself for this procedure). After what was a traumatic event for both he and I, the results came back clean. They did decide to put him on an antibiotic just in case though given the high white count. A few days later he was good again and went back to school.

Fast forward to yesterday, when Daycare calls and says “Calen swallowed a staple”… Now I’m not going to go into the “how does a 11 month old get hold of a staple in a daycare class rant” but not knowing what else to do we called the Dr. again, and Angie took him over for an x-ray. Sure enough, an open staple in his stomach. The doctors sent him home with orders to check his poop for the staple for the next few days and if we saw blood to take him to the Vanderbilt ER. (That’s not comforting). I checked this morning (what a fun process) and indeed there was a staple. I was glad to see it out of him with not apparent damage, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t hope secretly that the daycare had to search his poop today.

Which brings me to the trip to Daycare this morning where Mallory offered me half of a slimy fruit snack. I politely declined but praised her for her willingness to share. She said “I thought you wanted a fruit snack Daddy”. I said “Well, I wanted a whole fruit snack, but I don’t really want half of one”… She said “Are you sad Daddy?” “No, why honey?” . . . she said “Because you are talking slow”. I never would have phrased it that way but it makes perfect sense that she would characterize slower speech as sad. Just caught me a little funny.

Speaking of catching me… a few nights ago she prayed that Kylie would have the “opportunity to come home and see us”… Something magical about praying with your kids I think. Kylie is home and we are glad for it. Calen’s birthday celebration is tomorrow even though his birthday isn’t until the 11th. I’m glad Kylie go to be there for that and I”m hoping to have her car fixed in time for her to drive it back to school. She seems to really be enjoying Interior Design. I hope that she continues to enjoy it or if not that she finds something she can really enjoy doing.

Ok… enough for now. I intended to be short.

Mallory is at that age where you wish you had a tape recorder tied to her at all times.  You just never know what’s going to pop out of that little mouth.  And the biggest problem is that you know she gets it from you.  Of course, Johnathan taught her stuff like, “See this elbow.  Right in your forehead, baby.  Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam.”  And the ever popular, “It’s time to crack some skulls, baby.”  But then, there is the occasional thing that you have no idea where it came from like, “Fine, mom.  Fine.” (yes, she’s only three)  I thought I would share some recent excerpts.

Just today, Johnathan was taking the kids to school.  Mallory likes to talk so he was asking her if she was going to have fun at school.  She said, “No.  I’m going to be shy.”  “Why are you going to be shy?”  “Cause when I’m shy, the teachers hold me.”  (I knew it!!!  Stinkin’ kid!)  “I’m going to be shy for 30 minutes.  Want me to count to 30, daddy?”  “Sure.”  “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 30.”  (Impatient too.  That’s my girl!)

Tonight, she asked if we could eat dinner while we watched Tinkerbell.  We agreed that was fine since we had said no last night.  The only problem is that she is her father’s child.  She gets fixated on the TV.  I mean, fully engulfed.  (I have carried on one-sided conversations with Johnathan for several minutes.)  She wasn’t paying attention to her food so Johnathan kept pushing pause to make her take a big bite.  She expressed her displeasure by saying, “Aaahhh.  Do we have to keep doing this?!”

I think my favorite though was one day when I picked her up from school.  She always gets a fruit snack for the ride home…provided she kept her pants dry all day.  This particular day, she finished it before we go to the red light, which was very fast.  I said, “Wow!  You ate that fast!”  She said, “Yeah…I’m an inja.”  (Those of you that know Johnathan well, will know exactly where that originated.)

Mallory has become quite the storyteller these days. A couple of months ago, I noticed on her paper from school that they had studied about Jonah. When I asked her about it, she confirmed that he was swallowed by a big fish…that “spit him out on the sand and he had sand on his pants and he had to get it off cause he was all dirty…” It went on, but you get the picture.
For reasons that I won’t go into, we have been carpooling this week. Well, yesterday Mallory was talking about “The Big Pickle”. This was in reference to a VeggieTales video about David and Goliath that I think she has only watched once. Today, she started talking about potatoes. (A food that she doesn’t like…I’m not really sure she’s related to me). It went a little something like this, “When a potato comes, we go hide in the closet.”
“When a potato comes?”
“Yes. And they’re scarrrrry.” (insert really cute face with wide eyes during the “scary” part)
“Is a potato a monster?”
“No, mommy, it’s a potato.”
“Okay.”
“It comes and it picks up cars and houses and swings.”
“It picks up cars and houses and rocketships…?”
“I didn’t say rocketships. Cars and houses and swings. Airplanes and rocketships are too high up.”
“Okay. Who told you this?”
“Parissa.”  (her teacher)
“Parissa?”
“Yes.”
“We eat potatoes.”
“Yeah.  Well, I don’t.  I don’t like potatoes.”
“Okay.”
“…and the potato trail…”
Johnathan felt the need to chime in, “Potato trail?”
“Yes. It picks up cars and houses and big swings.”
Then, without realizing it Johnathan mockingly said, “Oh, the big, bad F3 Potato!” And I fell out laughing…tears streaming from my eyes. Suddenly, it hit Johnathan. “That’s what she’s talking about!”
We spent the next few minutes trying to teach her how to say “tornado”. They’re learning about weather at school. Who needs a TV when you have this kind of entertainment?

Just a quick post to capture the moment. Mallory has the tendency, like her daddy, to zone out when she get’s into something, usually on TV. For her it’s normally Mickey Mouse, Handy Manny, or one of her DVD’s. I didn’t realize, but apparently when I can’t get her attention as a result, I will whistle or go “hey, pssst”… until she looks at me, and then continue with what I needed to tell her.

It should be no surprise then, that she has picked up on the exact same habit. Enter Thursday night… I’m sitting down watching the Olympics, and she comes up to me and says “Daddy… pssstt, daddy!” It caught me off guard the first time, so it worked very well, and provided a laugh. Then the next day, when she tried again, and it didn’t work quite as well, her “Psst’s” became “PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTT’s” in rapid succession. Again, many laughs, which I’m sure will only encourage the behavior.

I’m waiting now for the note from daycare, which informs me that she has begun to use this tactic on the teachers.