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You know what they say……..

Asked, on several occasions to please put some clothes on this morning, Thomas replies “you know what they say mum, less getting dressed more Lego”.

Who, pray tell, says that? Other four year olds no doubt.



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Awkward things, small packages

While out for a walk this morning, we walked past a very, well, tiny man. A little person I think is the term. Thomas, like all 4 year olds, awkwardly yelled out about it and the lovely man just smiled at us. Once past him, Thomas said “Mum? That reminds me that dad and I saw the tiniest woman ever at the mall the other day. I mean, she wasn’t the size of a bug or anything. She was the size of a pigeon.”


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Close, but no cigarette

While working on his Lego robots, one piece was not working exactly how Thomas had envisioned it working, so, with a heavy sigh he took it apart and said “Oh well, thanks for the cardboard.”

Me: The cardboard?
Thomas: Mum, thats just a saying you say when you have to start something again from the beginning. Thanks for the cardboard.
Me: Do you mean back to the drawing board?
Thomas: Oh. Yeah. That one maybe.



Resolutions, and politics

I am not, as a rule, a maker of resolutions. I prefer to set the bar incredibly low for myself so that I can pat myself on the back when I exceed my (terribly low) expectations. This year though, I have resolved to blog at least twice a month (see? low).

For my first one, a story about Thomas and his obsession with Mayors and, specifically, the mayor of Toronto.

I can’t exactly remember how he even knew anything about mayors but a few weeks ago, we were listening to the radio and the story mentioned Parliament Hill. Thomas asked what that was and I explained that it was where the government meets to make decisions about things. Naturally, he then needed to know what the government was. Instead of being honest, I told him that they were the people trusted to make decisions about the country, to which he replied,

“Oh, so like a bunch of mayors?”
“Yeah, like a bunch of mayors!” I replied, pretty impressed at his thinking.
“So, like, Rob Ford and stuff?” he asked.
(insert massive sigh here)

How to explain the crack smoking, racist, lying, train wreck of a mayor, that is Rob Ford, to a (not quite) 4 year old?? Given that all CBC ever talked about for a good three weeks was Rob Ford and his shenanigans, it shouldnt come as a huge surprise that Thomas picked up on it, but MAN is this a tricky one to explain without a lot of questions. He is OBSESSED with Rob Ford. He mentions him at least twice a day. It doesn’t help that there’s a picture of him on the cover of our local paper that we see a hundred times a day. We’ve sort of summed it up that he’s not a very nice guy because he lies and is dishonest and that seemed to quell the tide of questioning for a while until, we hoped, he moved on to something easier like, say, the Middle East, or debt ceilings or something.

Around christmas, Thomas came into the kitchen with a guilty little look all over his face and said,

“Mum. I sneaked a look at number 21 on my advent. I put it back though.”

Given that I would never have known that he’d done it, I was pretty impressed that he told me and told him that it wasn’t good to have done it but that I was very happy he told me and that it showed he was growing up to be an honest person and that was very important and blah, blah, blah. His response…

“I know, cuz if I didn’t tell you, I would be EXACTLY like Rob Ford, right mum?”

“Weeeeellllllll, not exaaaaaaaactly, like him. But I don’t doubt that Rob Ford sneaks ahead on his advent calendar son.”

There. Politics. Taught to a three year old. Done.

An honest little face if ever I saw one. With his campaign manager at his side

An honest little face if ever I saw one. With his campaign manager at his side


A mother’s……uh……love? Or something.

While I’m in that mopey “my child is growing up too fast” mood, I was thinking about all the milestones that we celebrate for our kids, and how we celebrate them. Video of first smiles, broadcast on facebook to be viewed by friends, family, and that weird guy that worked in your office four jobs ago. Endless pictures of the first birthday with cake all over the face. The dance parties after a successful first potty encounter. I thought too about how many people buy the book Oh! The Place You’ll Go when our kids start school, or graduate from kindergarten or high school or university. So too, do many people buy their son’s the book I Love You Forever by Robert Munsch. Errrrrrrrr, ummmmmmm. Make no mistake, I’m on board with the message: I really, like, REALLY, love my kid. How I plan on showing him that I love him as he grows up though? I will NOT be taking notes from Mr. Munsch.

It starts out innocent enough. Sure, I’ve gazed lovingly at him as a baby, comme ca……


I may have sneaked in to look at him while he was in his crib. You know, those early days when you’re terrified that they aren’t breathing, so you stare at their chests for 12 straight minutes just to make sure…..


I’ll admit, I’ve peeked around his door to make sure he was sleeping and hadn’t kicked off his covers. I don’t really recall having crawled around his door though……


Now here’s where things really start to go pear shaped for these two. At this point, the mother turns a weird corner from loving parent to, well, stalker. The son grows up, moves away into his own house, which for him is clearly not far enough away from his crazy mother who STRAPS A LADDER TO HER CAR AND DRIVES OVER TO HIS HOUSE TO CLIMB THROUGH HIS WINDOW!!! Whoa! Hold up lady, I think this might be illegal.


Once through the window, this happens…….


Where is this guys wife/husband? Oh, right, all his girl/boyfriends ran screaming from the relationship in the early days when they met Mrs. Bates there. Good lord woman, you’ll break your back, he’s like six foot four! Put that grown man down! Climb back out the window and go immediately back to the asylum from which you escaped! Look, even that cat is trying to escape the madness.

As with most things in life, as we age we start noticing all of our parents traits in ourselves and this poor man is no exception. By the end of this sordid tale, this has happened…….


This poor man, destined to live a life alone forever terrified by his mothers love. Thomas, I love ya kid. I may call more often than you’d like, I may try way too hard to get you to come home for the holidays, but, I will make you this solemn promise: I will never, ever, drive to your house in the dark of night and break in through your bedroom window (I’ll come in quietly through the front door using the key that I had secretly cut when you weren’t looking). xo


Dress for dinner

At approximately 6pm, every evening, if you happened to be in the vicinity of our home, you may be privy to the following battle conversation:

Me: Thomas! Can you pleased wash your hands and get dressed for dinner*

*we are not a family from the Victorian era that requires its members to put on their finest clothes before coming to the table. We simply ask that you wear clothes. Or at best, underpants.

Thomas: (insert whiny voice here) Why do I have to put my clothes on? Can I just eat like this (pointing to a 100% naked body)?

Me: no. You HAVE to wear clothes to eat dinner. I feel like this is a conversation that we can’t keep having. You just have to, ok?

Thomas: but whyyyyyyyyyyyy?

Me: clothes. Stat.

Stomping away and then returning with a telltale giggle heard all the way down the hall…..

Thomas: I did it mum. I put underpants on.


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And I think it`s gonna be a long, long time

We`re just back from Road Trip 2013 which took us to the Okanagan, Washington and Oregon for two amazing weeks. I`ve got a ton (ie about 400) of pictures to sort through and organize into posts but I`ll start with this one…………

We had planned to go to this amazing indoor water park in McMinnville, Oregon that is in an airplane hangar and has a decommissioned 747 on the roof. You climb all these stairs to get into the plane where the emergency exits are water slides!!! Genius! So fun. So, so fun. But when I say planned, I mean that we decided we would go there, an hours drive from Portland. We didn`t actually plan anything which left us having to stop at Wal-Mart to buy towels and then, finally, we pulled into the parking lot of the water park. The completely empty parking lot. Worst. It is the worst telling your 3-year-old that the water park that you`ve been psyching him up for for weeks, is closed. Brutal. I`m not sure who was more disappointed, him or us. It was an equal bummer all around. But since we were there, we decided to part with $60 and tour the aviation and space museums (oh, we skipped the Firearms and Ammunition Hall wherein one must pass underneath a giant sign that has a long, ridiculous quote from Charlton Heston. Gag.). The museums were actually pretty rad (note: if my parents had brought me to this kind of thing on a family trip I would NOT have thought it was rad. I would have complained at every step and sulked, and stomped and told them they were the lamest, etc, etc. We decided that we can not deprive Thomas a childhood without these moments.) and we spent a great deal of time ferociously competing  playing on flight simulators where you had to try and dock your space craft to the docking station. Some people crashed and burned (Thomas and Andrew), while others were told that they did an excellent job and were subsequently asked to submit their resumes to NASA. For days afterward, Thomas asked me to sing Rocket Man over and over again (sorry to all those passersby who had to be subject to that). Then, today, I played it for him and in probably one of his top 5 cutest moments, he grabbed my hand with his cute little chubby toddler hand and said, “Mum, do you want to dance wiv me?”. You can`t invent this stuff – little kids are the best.

Why not listen to the song and imagine the cuteness while looking at some pictures of our day? Just press play on the vid and then scroll down….. (I don`t think this works if you view on your phone)

He may have failed the height requirement part of NASA`s tests but he would otherwise have totally been asked to be an astronaut

He may have failed the height requirement part of NASA`s tests but he would otherwise have totally been asked to be an astronaut (note Andrew`s thumb to the right), as per usual)

Competitive space craft docking

Competitive space craft docking

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The Spruce Goose (google it). Pretty cool. I have included a pre-schooler in the picture so that you get a sense of the scale. Its a billion times larger than a pre-schooler.

The Spruce Goose (google it). Pretty cool. I have included a pre-schooler in the picture (look closely) so that you get a sense of the scale. It’s a billion times larger than a pre-schooler.