Happy Birthday to MY Daddy!

On Thursday, the boys and I went to Greenville. This time, it was to get haircuts (we've found that Ashley at Snip-Its is the BEST, mostly because she's able to cut Jones's hair even as he pitches a crazy kind of madman fit. "If I can't cut a moving target," she told me, "I'm in trouble." I guess she's seen it all before, but she's the first stylist who's been able to cut his hair without making me feel like the worst mom in the world. Because of that, I will pay her whatever her price.) and, more importantly, to celebrate Pop's 65th birthday!

Since he was working for most of the day, we didn't get to see him until right before dinner. That's when we gave him his gift - the giant candy container shown above. Then, we headed out to meet Sissy and David at Trio for dinner. How Trio has remained so consistently fantastic since it opened in 1996, I will never know, but it remains my favorite - a staple spot for when I get together with friends. Fortunately, Daddy loves their BLT Pizza, so it was a perfect place to celebrate.

There is something so very "Dave &
Tom" about this shot. I love it.

We'd planned to go to the Lakeside Concert at Furman after we ate, but somehow, that got changed to just listening to the music at Downtown Alive in Greenville. And while we're on the subject of Greenville, can I just say that I hope people who get to raise their kids there know how incredible great that they have it. It's not everywhere that you can have a delicious dinner and then walk two blocks north to find some live music on a random Thursday nite in July.

But I digress.

On our way up Main, Daddy wanted to stop at Mast's to buy the candy he'd need to fill his giant jar. Once that deed was done, we were on our way to the "constert," as Jones called it.

As Daddy filled up his candy basket, Jones and Freddie migrated immediately to the car racks, which is exactly where they migrate whenever they enter ANY Mast's ... as if we don't have racks of cars ourselves.

I have learned that little boys are born with XY chromosomes and a genetic code that predispositions them to be obsessed with objects that have steering wheels. Anyone who tells you differently has never had - or interacted with - a little boy.

There. I've said it.

When we got to the block of Main Street where the music happens, Freddie couldn't contain himself. He started bopping down the street - Mom said he looked like a Blues Brother, which is as accurate a description as I can think of.



We parked ourselves outside of the vacant spot that once was Bistro Europa (for the record, I never really liked that place). The boys proceeded to chase each other through the openings, two of which were covered with all-weather panels. They pushed and played and chased for twenty minutes or more. To watch it looked like a waiter scene in a silent movie. All that was missing was a spittake. It was hilarious, and they had the time of their lives.


Then Jones started asking about the "constert" (all of this happened, while the band was on its break), so we walked over, so he could see the stage and, once they fired back up again, listened to another song or two before heading home.

Since Daddy hadn't gotten to see them ride their "alliGator," they rode for a few minutes when we got to the house. When it was time to go in, I told Fred to park it right in front of the garage. My thinking was that I'd push it the rest of the way in, assuming he couldn't thread the needle between Mom's "monster truck car" and Daddy's "new monster truck."

Shows what I know.

He proceeded to pull it perfectly between Mom's car and the wall of the garage and then turned just the right angle to park straight between the two cars. He then strutted out of the garage, his chest stuck out, and nonchalantly announced, "It's in the garage."

Thanks, Son.

On Friday morning, we swam; we then stayed long enough in the afternoon for the boys to see their beloved "Belba." Funny story about that - earlier this week, Jones and I were looking through an album of his baby photos. When we got to a picture of a four month old Jones with Uncle Bill and Aunt Belva, I pointed at her and asked, "Who's that?" Jones said, "Dat's BEL-ba!" When I pointed at Uncle Bill and asked the same, Jones answered, "Dat's her dad."

Heeheehee.

As expected, they loved visiting with Belba - and I think they were even glad to see "her dad." After a couple of hours with them, we headed back home where their daddy drove up just after we did.

It was a wonderful way to kick off the weekend, about which I'm hoping to write more tonite ... because BOY, is there a story ...

I must've put the lids on their cups
wrong, because both boys showed
up at Mom's with "big orng drink"
all over them.

This is Freddie, takin' it like a man,
with Ashley, who is AWESOME.

This look from these giant eyes
is one of my favorites. 

If you aren't careful, Freddie will GET YOUR NOSE!

Mayme strikes back! 

Safety First!

This morning, the boys played at the Pressleys', while I went to the gym. Their cousins Evan and Ellery were there, and after seeing Freddie behind the wheel of his alliGator, Evan decided our little Bear needed a license to drive, so he made him one.

"Freddie Pressley
Driver Lisence
Must use Speed 1
unless going straight"

The alliGator, for those who don't know, has two speeds. When he's got it going full throttle, Freddie is some (most of) the time a menace to any and all in his path.

This license, which Evan stored in the driver's side cup holder, is one of the greatest gifts that Fred Pressley has ever been given.

I love it!

Thanks, "E!"

Oscar Madison Eats Yogurt for Lunch and Another Tale from Today

Because of the boys' tender tummies (see previous post), I was trying to take it a little easy on lunch today. I gave the boys PB&Js with "yoyo." Freddie ate all of his sandwich and about 3/4 of Jones's, who didn't eat a bite. He also went to TOWN on his yogurt.

I got the boys settled at their table on the front porch and walked back into the house to get something. When I looked back out, Freddie was rubbing his hands together, as if he were using the yoyo for soap. After two years of eating it with a spoon, I have NO.IDEA what made him think to eat it with his hands today, but alas. It did.

See for yourself.

Thankfully, he'd started the day off super sweet, so he had some goodwill built up with me.

Hoping he'd say "Zurg" (again, see previous post), I asked whom he wanted to "be like" for Halloween this year. Zurg didn't even make the short list, much to my dismay. Instead, he quickly rattled off, "I be like Buzz. I be like Ciderman (for Spiderman, whom he always confuses with Superman). I be like Daddy."

How in the world did he come up with that "I be like Daddy" bit? I have no idea, but he said it again when I asked him later, "Are you gonna be Zurg for Halloween?"

We were packing up to head to the Pressleys', and he answered, "I don't wanna be like Zurg. I wanna be like Daddy."

On the bright side, he's such a Jeremy doppelgänger that he wouldn't need a costume ...

Time will tell.

(DISCLAIMER: I'm assuming it's the theatre major in me that's already thinking about Halloween costumes.)

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT

Be warned: this post contains WAY too much information. If you are not a fan of potty humor - and I, for the record, am NOT - then, you might sit this entry out. I just want to record it, because I think the boys (being BOYS, and all) will get a "big, giant" kick out of it the bigger they get, so here you have the story of this one week that the boys both had a stomach bug.

It started last week - I think I was first, having a single bout, and then Jeremy did. Then, when the boys and I got to Mom's last week, Jones had diarrhea, telling me he'd gone stinky and that "there was mud in it." That was Wednesday, I think, and, though Freddie had had about an episode a day, since Thursday, Jones hadn't had any more after that initial time.

So Jeremy and I decided I'd take Jones to church on Sunday, and he'd stay home with Freddie. Neither of the boys had had ANY symptoms (except for the obvious); there'd been no fevers, no slips in appetite, just a time or two a day when Freddie'd have tummy troubles.

Then came Sunday morning. When I went in to get Jones up, he was sitting near the foot of his bed. He told me "my throat hurt, and I had a big giant cough," and then he gestured to the vomit in the place where his pillow should be. True to form, his next question was, "Can you wash my sheets in the room by the den?"

That'd be the laundry room, Son, and sure, I can.

At what point he'd thrown up overnite (or maybe he threw up first thing Sunday?), I have no idea. I
DO know, though, that neither Jeremy nor I had ANY idea that it'd happened until first thing Sunday morning. Poor buddy! He handled it great - wasn't whiny or wimpy. Just told me about his "big, giant cough" and asked me to wash his sheets.

Obviously, church for ANY of us was suddenly out of the question.

About 10 AM, I was laying in the bathtub when Jones BOLTED in. To put it delicately he got about a foot away from the potty when he couldn't go any further. He looked at the brown puddle by his feet. "There's mud," he told me. I laughed and said, "Sit on the potty, in case there's any more mud in your tiny hiney."

So he did.

He then proceeded to make sounds the likes of which I've never heard come forth from his father. It was UN.REAL. We laughed together, and Jones said, "I say, 'ththeshthehshthtshtst.' It was like a trumpet." Then he did it again. This time, he said, "That's a trumpet, real loud from my tiny hiney."

I thought it was the funniest thing I'd ever heard, so I immediately wrote it down.

Anyway.

Neither Jones nor Freddie had any more episodes after Monday morning ... until today. Jones was sitting on the potty, and I was sitting on a stool opposite him. When he again made those same sorts of  sounds from Sunday, he said, "What was that?" I didn't answer. He said, "Dat 'nother trumpet?" "That WAS another trumpet," I said. "Dat hiney trumpet?" he asked. "A hiney trumpet," I confirmed. He repeated, "a hiney trumpet;" as he did, it's as if he were affirming that, from this point on, what was once considered a "toot" in the Jeremy Pressley family will, from here on out, be labeled a "hiney trumpet."

THAT's why I had to record this story, no matter how completely and totally crass it is. I know a pair of future middle schoolers who are gonna want to hear this one again and again.

Great or "Gator"?

Well, Freddie ran over Jones with the "alliGator" today.

How's THAT for an opening line?

I'm not sure what happened - Jones was riding, because OF COURSE, Freddie was driving, and then all of a sudden, I looked up, and Jones was being dragged by the Gator, his right leg almost entirely under the (mercifully) plastic tire.

Jones was DEFINITELY afraid but not at all hurt. He didn't even really whine when I picked him up. He just got back on board the Gator and took off with his baby brother.

That was this afternoon - our SECOND trip to the Pressleys' for some ride time today (their huge, flat front yard is a MUCH better place to ride than anywhere at our house). On the first, the boys fought LIKE CRAZY over the Gator. I take that back - FREDDIE fought like crazy. Jones was perfectly content to ride his tractor. Every now and then, he'd ask to drive the Gator, and Freddie would have NONE OF IT.

The transitions went much better this afternoon - mostly because I'd put the fear of God into Freddie that if he DARED to pitch ANY KIND OF FIT, he would never again get on the Gator, so he did fine ... until he didn't.

After an hour or so, I said, "It's Jones's turn," and Freddie shouted, "IT NOT JONES'S TURN." This behavior, by the way, though commonplace for Jones (we're working on it), is VERY uncommon for Freddie, so, as promised, I jerked him up and dealt with his attitude before putting him the car to sit, while Jones and I parked their fleet of John Deeres. Jones did spectacularly well. No fits, no complaining. Thank the good Lord in Heaven above.

By and large, though, they both did really well with two separate tractors. This afternoon was SIGNIFICANTLY better than this morning, but still, I think the arrangement is gonna be a good one. They'd do circles in the front yard, taunting each other with "You can't catch me! You can't catch me!" Then, just before we left the second time, Jones goofily declared, "I'm a John Deere man. Freddie's an alliGator man."

Truer words were never spoken.

In other news, Freddie wants to be Zurg for Halloween. I TOTALLY know this will change a thousand times between now and October, but I hope, hope, hope he ultimately goes with this choice, because it's SO perfect for him. Everytime we watch "Toy Story 2," which, for awhile, was pretty much every day, he sits up, points, and says, "ZUUUUURRRRGGGGG" everytime Buzz's nemesis comes on the screen.  The fact that he conceived this idea in his (not-so-tiny) two year old head makes me about as proud of him as I've ever been.

Jones's current front runner makes me just as proud. He presently wants to be Johnny Strum, a "GEE-tar' playing bandit from the Ballad of Sweet Strings episode of "Sheriff Callie's Wild West." What in the world would make him want to "be like" this guy (He always uses that to describe it: "I want to be like ... [fill in the blank]"), I will never know, but I LOVE getting to see how the wheels are spinning in those little heads, and I'm gonna do all I can to make those little dress up dreams come true.

I'm completely staying out of their costume choices and letting it be whatever their little hearts desire, but in this moment, Mama's heart desires a Zurg and a Johnny Strum - both of which were selected by the boys. I just hope they CONTINUE to select them.

We'll see how this all plays out.

LOVING his hair, as it grows
out on top 

They have gotten very good
at helping carry in grocery bags -
so long as they aren't too heavy.

The Day We FINALLY Got to Give Them The Gator

As I've mentioned, we didn't give the boys their new Gator on Thursday, because of Jones's backtalk and disobedience. Things were looking good for Friday, until about 5 p.m. when he pitched a series of fits that prompted another postponement, but today, he was - except for a few morning missteps - as sweet as could be, so today became GATOR DAY ... FINALLY!

Here's a video of when we gave it to them. Seeing it on the driveway, covered in two black blankets, Jones thought it might be a "sea monster." To be honest, I can see why he'd think that to look at it. I think he was VERY relieved to find out it was instead an "alligator."



The boys spent the next ninety minutes riding all over our driveway and, later, their grandparents' front yard (we went there, because, with a giant mulch pile in the way at our place, there's more room to roam at the Pressleys'). Not surprisingly, they did really well taking turns driving. I knew they would, mostly because Jones could (largely) care less about driving, while Freddie pretty much insists on it. They make perfect road trip pals!

It was so much fun to watch them enjoy it so much. I'd look at them in their little green buggy and imagine them years from now, side by side, in a golf cart - or as teenage greenskeepers for a course close-by. The fun only ended because Jones talked back to me when I told him to do something. Playtime (for him, anyway) was immediately over then, but we're heading back to the Pressleys' tonite, so I'm hoping he's able to ride a little longer.

Until then, here are some pictures of my two favorite partners in crime. As you can see, this was $150 VERY well spent.