Little stories from this weekend.
Quint said his first word!! Other than Mama and Papa of course. Last week, while Hubby was watching him all week, "Papa" became a very common occurrence. But Sunday, in the car, Quint was a little fussy. I got out a saltine cracker (the solution to any problem) and said, "Do you want a cracker? Can you say cracker?" He looked from the cracker to me and said "Gwager." Hubby was standing out side the car pumping gas and stuck his head back in the car. "Omigosh he said it!" We said yay and clapped and most importantly, gave him the cracker. Last night, when I asked him, he said, "Gwa G". Pretty close. He was having to think pretty hard about that one.
At he grocery story on Sunday, just after the Gwager episode, I was walking around Aldi saying "corn and carrots, corn and carrots, corn and carrots" trying to remind myself to get those canned veggies. It took me a while to realize that Quint was quacking at me. "Qua, kwa, ka, qua, koe..." After a while it dawned on me that he was trying to say "corn and carrots". I said it again and he started quacking at his papa. The boy is catching on! And so is the mama.
This weekend, Papa was sitting around shirtless just after I had nursed Quint. Quint realized that Papa has similar looking upper equipment as Mama! He crawled over there obviously interested. Quickly, Hubby slapped a hand over each nipple and started saying, "no, son". Quint bounced his mouth on the back of Hubby's hand saying "bwa, bwa, bwa" and then obviously starting rooting around with his nose trying to get Hubby to move his hand. I was laughing my butt off! Honey, he wants some supper! "Is that what that means?" Hubby asks. "Yes! Of course!" I say. For the record, we did NOT let Quint do anything inappropriate. We don't have a fortune to pay for THAT kind of therapy later.
Months ago, I moved all the dangerous chemicals from under the kitchen sink to above the microwave in preparation for a crawling baby. Sunday night, I was looking in the closet under the stairs to see what I could throw away. The extra parts to our 8 year old patio set can probably be pitched. And then I noticed the bottom shelf. The shelf that could be easily reached by a determined toddler. Clearly marked boxes: Rat poison. Fertilizer. Doh! So last night, I cleaned out that closet and moved the various poisons to the garage. I also stored the corded phones and phone cords. I stored/hid our 5x7 framed photo of Nathan Bedford Forrest in the box in the garage that says "framed art".
As I was drifting off to sleep last night, it occurred to me that we have a lot of weird chemicals under our bathroom sink too. Not like bleach, but soft scrub, hair spray, nail polish remover, and whatnot. Come to think of it, how often do we get anything out of there anyway. Do we need that crap?
In the Sticks
4 days ago