Tell me how you really feel, Jack

In case you can't see the above picture, it is an art project Jack brought home from school. They asked the kids what they wished for and the teacher wrote it down. My child's says, "I wish I liked my mom."

My first reaction when I saw it was to laugh, because I figured they said "What do you wish for?" and he thought wishing was similar to liking, so he said "I like my mom." At least that's what I was going with until I saw his art teacher at a PTA meeting tonight.

I asked her what the heck and told her how I thought it was funny, and she said he really did say that and his teacher felt bad for writing it that way, but it was what he said. I kept a fake smile on my face while she said she heard his dad was away for work and that we had a new baby at home, so maybe this was his way of telling us how he felt.

Oh my holy hell. My 4-year-old is going passive-aggressive on me through art projects. Not so funny anymore.

I still think he said he liked his mom, not that he *wished* he liked his mom. But wow, really looking forward to the conference this Friday even more now.

Random funny Jack-isms

"Mommy, I need to wash my armhips (armpits)."

(While helping in his class, I tried to wash my hands while he washed his and he put his arm out to block me) "Mommy, we wait turns."

"I am going to hug the baby in your tummy."

"Mommy, I am just kimming (kidding)."

"You have to wash like this (interlacing his fingers) because that's where the germs live. Miss Ashley tell me that."

"Mommy, porcupines have sticks on their backs." (Thank you, Diego video.)

(Seeing me get ready to leave for a meeting at his school) "Mommy, are you going to wear your boots so you can be fancy?"

"Is the new baby going to eat squished food?"

"Mommy, you did not take a shower today, that is why you have pony hair (a ponytail)."

"Frogs eat bugs. And then the bugs are in their tummies and the bugs are broken."

"Mommy, someday when I am big, I will get married and I will live here with you!" (Let's see what your wife thinks about that one,buddy.)

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Jack was watching me type the last of this and announced he wanted to spell his name and Emmie's name. So I am turning this over to him.

jack emmie 1234567890 mommy

(He is clearly a genius.)

I am raising a genius

I am not usually one for disclosing the fact that my son is a certifiable genius. It's not really a surprise, seeing the gene pool he comes from. (You can all stop laughing now. Just because we put dirt three feet up the foundation of our house doesn't mean we iz stoopid. We can haz purdy flowers.)

Jack just turned 3-and-a-half years old and knows his full name, his address and his telephone number, including area code. He can spell his full name, somewhat legibly write his first name, knows his sister's full name and how to spell it and can play Mariokart on the Wii.

He's currently fascinated by babies in people's tummies and can tell you everyone who has been in anyone else's tummy in our extended family. He has known all his colors, shapes and letters for more than a year, but we'll throw that in as well.

He's really into what fruits and veggies grow on trees and what grows on bushes or in the ground. But carrots stumped him this morning when we discussed it over a breakfast of pumpkin bread and scrambled eggs.

Jack: "Mommy, where do carrots grow?"
Mommy: "They grow in the ground."
Jack: "On the ground?"
Mommy: "No, under the ground."
Jack: "Where the subway El tracks are?"

Seriously, that is his thought process. He knows the subway runs under the ground and since carrots are growing under the ground, they must be growing near the tracks.

I can't wait to see how he theorizes that this baby is coming out of Mommy's tummy. Because he keeps asking and I keep saying, "The doctor will help the baby come out."

So does anyone have any age-appropriate thoughts on how to tell him the baby is going to shoot out of Mommy's girly bits like a pinball? He knows the correct anatomy terms (so do I, but can you imagine the Google searches that would result from that same phrase I just typed with the correct terms? I shudder to think.) but I am wondering how much detail we should get into at this age. Not to mention, I need to figure out how much of it I want all 26 kids in his new class to know, since I bet he will be sharing his knowledge with all of them.

Conversations with a 3-year-old

Scene: Jack sitting on the potty, me sitting in the chair outside the bathroom in the hallway waiting for him before naptime. He is stalling for time to delay his nap, thus engaging me in conversation while he uses the facilities.

Jack: Mommy, my poop comes out of my tushie?
Me: Yep, it does.
Jack: It's in there with the food?
Me: Yep, it is.
Jack: It is squishing all the food?
Me: Well, no. Your tummy takes the parts of food that it can't use and turns it into poop. So your tummy turns the food into poop.
Jack: (silent for a second) Mommy, my poop talks!
Me: No it doesn't.
Jack: Yes! It does! It goes, "weeeee."
Me: (laughing) Well, sometimes poop makes noise when it comes out. That happens.
Jack: Mommy, sometimes it makes a BIG NOISE!

Seriously, I can't believe the thought process that went into that on his part. To actually wonder how his stomach works and think up explanations is pretty smart. And his eloquence in expressing it ... well he IS a boy.

No segue here whatsoever, but today is my fifth wedding anniversary. Five wonderful years. Two of the best years of my life.

No, really, I love this man and all he brings to my life. He's an amazing father, a perfect match for my sarcastic streak, a ridiculously smart businessman and a fixer of my computer. He helps around the house, lets me sleep in, gets my pregnant ass ice cream, plans ridiculously awesome vacations for us, doesn't yell when I go over budget every week, loves me unconditionally (which can be difficult at times), gets excited when I share breaking sports news with him, laughs at my jokes and always ALWAYS puts the toilet seat down. He's a prince among men. I make fun a lot on this blog, but I would be in big trouble without him. As I told him as part of my vows five years ago tonight, "You've taught me to reach for the stars, but still be aware of reality." Josh, I love you. Thanks for everything you bring to my life.

Smells like teen spirit

This weekend, I experienced the hell on earth that is known as "a three-hour drive with your 3-year-old and almost-16-month-old where no one naps." Not only did Jack spend 2.75 of the three hours kicking and pushing my seatback, Emmie screamed every 15 seconds for milk. Which ran out approximately 30 minutes into the drive.

Josh was the driver, which left me to contort my body into various pretzel configurations trying to find toys on the floor that would amuse Emmie for 10 seconds before she would fling them down and scream for milk. I was doling Cheerios out left and right, thinking they would placate the masses. I was wrong. The masses started throwing them. At my head.

About halfway through the trip, Jack announced he had to go pee on the potty. We normally take him to a McDonald's bathroom in these situations because they are present about every 10 miles, are usually very clean and run less risk of me being kidnapped from the stall. (True story: when I was little, one of my aunts told me that you had to be careful in bathrooms because people would kidnap you and you would never see your family again. I somehow turned this into "gas station bathrooms" in my warped mind and am fearful of truck stops now.)

But we had just passed a McDonald's and another one wasn't coming up any time soon, so we decided to chance it at a gas station.

We walk in and find the women's bathroom (you think I was letting Josh taking my preshuuusssssh baaaabyyyyy into a men's room at a gas station? Christ almighty, I might as well let him lick a toilet.) and open the door. I am not afraid to tell you the truth: someone was either very ill or definitely needed to get some fiber in her diet.

And in my very first "kids say the darndest thing" moment, Jack yelled, "Mommy, did somebody poop in here?"

I try to downplay it, saying in a quiet voice, "I don't know, buddy, maybe."

"Mommy, it smells like somebody pooped in here. They did! They did!" he said in a gleeful voice.

Yep, that's my kid. He's talking about poop in gas station bathrooms and I'm writing about it on the internet. I'm not sure which is worse.