Mood:  irritated
Today, when I picked Logan up from school, we waited a looooong time for him to be let out by his teacher. She talked to him for a while, and I knew something was up. She said he didn’t listen well today, and constantly visited with his friends. I promised we’d work with him to remember to listen better. Then, Logan wanted to stay and play with his friend at school instead going to pick up Daddy. He yelled and said he wasn’t coming, and then launched a high-pitched scream when I started counting to three. Meanwhile, I was holding both a half-asleep Daphne and a wailing Dylan with a fresh road rash on his forehead.

Back in the car, we discussed his punishment. After I explained why he was being punished and then offered a chance to redeem himself by behaving well and listening well all the next day, I asked Logan to tell me what he understood our agreement to be.

“Mmfmfhfhmmmnnmm.”

“What’s that, honey?”

(Barely audible) “I think I’d feel better if you just stopped talking.”

Mood:  special
Yesterday was Logan’s first day of kindergarten, and he was soooooo excited. He was racing around the house, shouting the time to all of us every few minutes so we wouldn’t be late.

“It’s 8-5-6 on Daddy’s clock, and 8-0-0 on the microwave, and the little hand is almost on the 12 in the kitchen!”

When we all got into the car and we were just waiting for Gil to get the camera, Logan said, “Mommy, maybe Daddy shouldn’t ride with us.”

“Huh?” (On the inside.) “Um, why do you say that, honey?” (Out loud.)

“Because if we all get in this car, it won’t be able to go fast enough, and we want to get there fast.”

Long story short: Logan was fine, Daphne had a complete meldown at the Parents’ breakfast, and Dylan very quietly went straight to the backyard when we got home and sat on his trike, sadly poking the horn.

Mood:  bright
…of all the words Daphne says at 18 months:

Daddy
Mommy
Logie (gogie)
Dylan (lblblblan
grandma
grandpa
Molly (usually shouted, followed by “Shhhh!”)
Poppo
baby
flower (flowie)
cookie
SpongeBob (but not Squarepants)
Patrick
Gary
Spot
Elmo
up
down
whoa
hey!
stop that
I want to open it
sandal
yeah (never yes)
oh my
no
OK
moon
swing
please
thank you
uh oh
juice
potty
star
book
doggie
meow
woof woof
eye
eyebrow
teeth
nose
belly button (buh buhuh)
banana
apple
airplane
tree
car
bite
mama
yummy
Toast is ready! (“Toasisrehee!”)
Want to get out! (“Wannaagehowwwww!”)
Where go?
There it is!
bubble
ball
TV
Kipper
Oobie
Blankie
poopy
diaper
water
on
off
big hug
kiss
tickle tickle (“tlatlatla!”)
whee
more
bunny
ow
hair
see ya
stop
bye bye
night night
Po
hat
bear

Mood:  not sure
Today at Jake’s 6th birthday party, Logan rushed up to me saying, “Mommy! There’s a dead squirrel over there!”

“Oh that’s too bad, hon.”

“Come on, Mommy, look!”

“OK.”

“Hurry, Mommy, before he goes to Heaven!”

Mood:  special
Tonight is poker night at Ken’s down the street. Testosterone is in the air. And Mommy is all alone with the little angels. We did lots of things like color, play the harmonica, doodle on the doodle pad, read The Lion King. The problem was that everyone wanted exclusive access to whatever was being used as soon as it was picked up. We only read a few pages of the book before we had to abandon it because Daphne was screeching and grabbing pages. Then we got out the doodle pad, and suddenly everyone had an urgent doodle they had been storing up for months. Then I got out the crayons and paper, but everyone wanted to draw on the SAME paper, with the SAME crayon. Don’t even get me started on the doodle pad. Let’s just say it ended with an imitation by Mommy of a waiting sibling: “Can I have it now? Can I have it now? When are you going to be done? Can I have it now? Can I have it now? Aaaaaarrrgggghhh.”

Several minutes later all activities ceased amid muffled threats issued through clenched teeth to brush teeth and get ready for bed or else. Logan, as is his wont, couldn’t resist finding out what “else” was, and went on dental hygiene strike. I left to put Daphne to bed.

10, 9, 8, 7, knock on the door. It’s Dylan, complaining that Logan STILL won’t give him a turn on the doodle pad. I whispered (shouted) down the hall that Logan had better give him a turn or, or, or, ohmygodIneedsomerest. He answered that he wouldn’t give it up until I had read what he wrote on it, and I couldn’t read it until Daphne was asleep, and she wouldn’t fall asleep while Dylan was crying for a turn.

Twelve years later, when Daphne was finally snoring, I went in to see what was on The Tablet.

“What did you want to show me, Logan?”

“It’s over here. Look.”

On the tablet propped on the windowsill next to his bed was the tablet, with “Im sae Mom” written on it.

“Is that how you spell sorry, Mom?”

Yes, sweetie, it is.