Move Over, Brad Pitt - There's a New Kid in Town

My wonderful 4 year old Dylan is SUCH a Drama King. There's probably nothing I could do to overemphasize just how theatrical he can be, with, frankly, little to no effort. (I have NOOOOOOOOOooo idea where he could possibly get it - honestly!!!!!)

When one of the older kids does something he deems wrong, (basically this entails: anything they say that contradicts his intentions at the moment) his acting skills surface, beginning with a wail that crescendoes, a mouth that opens wide enough to swallow Jonah AND the whale, and the turning on of the Crocodile Tears Faucet. Miraculously, these issues are ALL cured instantly when Mom or Dad step in to save him from the Sibling Monsters, and his devilishly handsome smile reappears.

Occasionally, he tries to brush up on his techniques using Mom or Dad as targets. During a walk around town recently, he was being scolded by Dad due to his inability to follow directions and stay ON the sidewalk and OFF people's grass. (I know, I know...we ask much of the young lad.) After a couple of warnings, Dad laid his hand on Dylan's shoulder and firmly redirected him to the concrete surface where his feet should be. Our budding actor immediately grabbed the opposite shoulder and began moaning. Being the sort of parents who don't rush to fix all things, we ignored him. He eventually realized that his behavior wasn't effecting us, and the remainder of that walk was fairly benign.

Tonight, however, tops the cake.

During my half-hearted attempt at sweeping the kitchen floor, I observed Dylan toss a ball (therefore disobeying a direct order to ROLL the ball only, do not THROW it) onto a recliner, and while trying to retrieve it, he bounced backwards off the cushion and fell on his butt, PERHAPS striking his shoulder and neck LIGHTLY on a nearby bookshelf. If that actually happened, and I'm not convinced it did, but I wasn't standing in a position to be able to see clearly how he landed, it most certainly wasn't painful. Dylan the Dedicated Deliverer of Delightfully Daring and Dramatic Deeds did not disappoint. He launched a full-scale attack on my eardrums.

I.

Ignored him.

He got louder.

I planted my hands on my hips, and glared at him. I informed him he wasn't hurt. I extolled the virtues of not making mountains out of molehills. I read him the Boy Who Cried Wolf riot act.

I ended my advice-laden lecture with "When you're only a LITTLE hurt, you just Get Up and Go On."

Dylan's instant tear-infused reply: "I can't Get Up and Go On when my neck is broken!"


I'm sharing my extra tickets to the Oscars with my TRUE friends in a few years.

Those Dirty Dogs!

It's the new media rant and it goes like this:

"Health Buzz: Pediatrician Group Wants Killer Hot Dogs Remodeled"

Let's break this down a bit. Hot dogs are full of chemicals. The meat is the leftover parts of animals that you'd really rather not think about. I don't even trust the "all beef" label...beef shouldn't look like that. They're just gross. They're certainly not healthy for your body.

So here's my beef with the whole Killer Hot Dog issue (aside from the sheer stupidity of it)...if they're gonna push for warning labels on the packages, can't they at least include something like "If you don't die from choking on this putrid stuff, you still stand the chance of dying a much more slow and painful death due to all the crap we put in these things. Or you might die from the toxins infused into your body to treat the cancer you get from repeatedly abusing your body by ingesting filth. Just sayin'."

But ya'll just go ahead and re-engineer a staple of the American Diet. Keep those kids from choking to death. Heck, make a law mandating that parents teach their latch-key kids a Self-Heimlich, so they can survive another day to play that xbox 360 till Dad gets home from work at 9PM, just to be on the safe side. We need more laws telling parents how to keep kids safe, don't we?

Or, listen to mom and don't goof off when you're eating hot dogs.



Oh, Good Grief.




*disclaimer* I do buy hotdogs for our camping trips and occasional summer backyard cookouts. I'm not a purist. In any given year, I may purchase a total of 8 packages of hotdogs. I have to smother them with so many condiments that the hotdog disappears. I would just eat the relish, but people would think I'm weird. And I ALWAYS cut them up for my little ones.

Happy Monday to Me!

Our local paper has a trivia-type photo game to play. A photographer will shoot a picture of any object of his or her choosing that is located somewhere in the county. They publish a portion of the photo in the newspaper, and the object is to guess what you're viewing. The next day, they publish the entire photo. I have no idea what you win if you guess correctly. Probably nothing but the satisfaction of a job well done.

In honor of this game, I give you the following section of a photo I took.



Know what it is yet? If you guessed Swiss cheese, you're wrong.




If you guessed "Plastic diaper cover accidentally tossed in dryer", you win! Congratulations! Much like our newspaper, the gift you get is your own satisfaction.

Now, before you go thinking I'm all green and whatnot, never fear. I'm neither overly environmentally sensitive, OR stupid ambitious enough to use cloth diapers. Did that with my first two to save money. Discovered I'd rather be slightly sane than rich. Switched to She Who Must Be Hated By Eco-Conscious Wackos.

The real reason I have had these crinkly panties, as they're referred to in our house, is because not only am I of the Anti-Global Warming Frenzy lot of Americans...I am also a card-carrying member of the Moms Who Don't Change Diapers in the Middle of the Night Club. And the Save Yourself Some Laundry Loads By Putting Crinkly Panties Over Your Daughter's Diaper Just In Case She Drinks Too Much Before Bedtime Club.

What dumb thing have YOU done lately?

Extraordinary Measures

I love Based on a True Story movies. I love that science, technology, and perseverance improve children's lives.

Maybe someday, Angelman Syndrome will be the monster that gets tamed.

Yes, There's a Pill For That

Completely Appropriate

One of the characteristics of Angelman Syndrome is inappropriate laughter. What is deemed inappropriate is often subjective, and therefore the use of that term when describing my son often triggers irritation in me. Of course, being that he's MY offspring, I should remember to give people a break, because I sometimes laugh at completely inappropriate things (and times), as well. So...Angelman Syndrome, or heritage? Guess we'll never fully know!

Gabe will laugh until he can barely breathe, watching small children run in circles. He thinks Tigger plowing...er, bouncing... Eeyore is hilarious. Horton Hears a Who is one of his favorite movies. I'm his mother. I know these things. So why have I never realized The Three Stooges would probably trip his laughter trigger?



Oh my word!

He LOVES that show! On New Years Eve, one of the cable channels ran a Stooges marathon. He didn't moooooooooove from his seat. Completely mesmerized.

He doesn't talk, but the belly laughs Crack. Me. Up!

I Need Sunshine On a Cloudy Day

Does it matter that it was 7 PM last night before I realized my underwear were on wrong side out?

I hate cold weather. It's depressing. It makes me not care about things like clothing...and eating right...

Now, if I can figure out which way to put on my unmentionables, maybe I'll stroll on over to Taco Bell and let them help me lose some weight.



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(FYI...I'm laughing as I type this...no deadly weapons are in sight, so don't call the Stress Unit.)