Communicating in mysterious ways

Jack identifies which song he wants to hear by describing the album cover (because that’s what shows on the screen for Amazon Music and Pandora).  So “car” or “black car” is Pompeii by Bastille.  “Blue car” is Feel It Still by Portugal. The Man.  (The image is a black car on fire, but the reflection looks kind of blue.)  Today, he requested “popple” (which is how he says people – it’s so freakin’ cute).  Well, a lot of album covers have people on them.  I started with the playlist that has both of the car songs on it.  We scrolled through the whole playlist, trying each song, and he said no within five seconds of the start each time.  We scrolled through the recent songs – none of those.  I tried Huey Lewis and the News, since the album cover of Fore shows the band leaning against a wall.  Not any of those.  Then he looked at me very seriously and said “white people” (which came out as “woot popple” and I’m giggling remembering it).  John was there, too, and we both told him he was exactly right – Huey Lewis and the News are as white people as you get.  But that’s not what he meant.  The song he wanted was “white people”.  He grabbed my phone and pointed.  Of course, it was at a song we’d already tried and he had already rejected, but he wasn’t wrong about his description.

Those are white people wearing very white shirts.  Right on, Jack.

(It was Shut Up and Dance by Walk The Moon.)

Me: 1, Bug: Dead

This morning, at before-the-sun-comes-up early, I went into the bathroom and found a bug in my bathtub.  I froze.  It froze.  It might be scary that it, you know, SAW me and froze, but at least it gave me time to think.  Normally, I would grab a shoe and crush the hell out of it, but it was 6am and John had been up with Jack from 4ish to 5:30ish.  Both were finally asleep again – if I smashed the bug to make myself feel better, I might wake them both up.

This wasn’t just any bug.  It’s called a house centipede, I think.  You’re welcome to google it.  I did that once, and I’m never doing it again.  This one’s body was as long as my thumb, and then it had legs.  LOTS of legs, long and skinny, and it raises its body up on those legs, which is WAY scarier than slithering round with its belly on the floor.

I figured I could trap it under my water glass and get John’s help to deal with it once he got up, or at least wait until everyone else woke up so I could beat the crap out of it with a shoe.  So I poured my water onto it.  That got it moving (shudder), and it skittered in my direction.  I did NOT squeal or yelp or make any other noises (except there might possibly have been some uncontrollable muttered swearing), and I DID manage to turn my glass upside down over it and trap it inside.  It stopped moving, and I grabbed what I needed and left.

I worked for a while, not thinking about the bug, and then I went back upstairs a little after seven to get in the shower.  THE SHOWER IS SEPARATE FROM THE TUB.  It’s important to point that out.  I was NOT going to climb into that bathtub.

I used my caps too soon.

THE BUG WAS NO LONGER UNDER THE GLASS.  Luckily, it was still in the tub, near the glass, and it was kind of curled in a c-shape and not moving.  Maybe it hurt itself getting out from under the glass.  Maybe (likely) the edges of the glass weren’t flush against the tub, since it isn’t a perfectly flat surface.

It was time to get John.  I would do the killing, but I thought I might need backup if I still wanted to do it quietly so I wouldn’t wake Jack up.  The timing worked out pretty well.  John was awake, and Jack woke up while I was telling John about the bug, so I brought Jack in to hang out with John and grabbed a shoe.

Meanwhile, in the Batcave bathtub, the &$*^#%@ bug had moved again.  But now, fully awake and without worries about waking others, and, most importantly, armed with a big-ass shoe, I was ready to take this thing down.

So I smashed it.  One hit, no skittering, left a flattened bug with two little legs waving.  An excessive amount of toilet paper was needed to gather up the remains, and then bye-bye bug.

I win!

Mickey D’s

We got SUPER lazy Saturday evening, and after a fun wander around the grounds of the lighthouse at Beavertail State Park, we went through the drive-thru at McDonald’s and got Jack his FIRST Happy Meal!  We let him unpack the box himself, which resulted in a cascade of fries all over his high chair tray.  He dipped his fries and his McNuggets all by himself and totally ignored the apple slices (which is a little surprising – lately he’s been all about the apple slices).

When dinner was over, we let him open his first Happy Meal toy!  It was a weird potato-looking thing that we eventually figured out was an egg that opened to reveal a dinosaur.  Jack was thrilled about the egg and totally freaked out about the dinosaur.   (It’s a 2-inch tall T-rex with jaws that open and shut.)  We put it safely away back in its egg, and he eyed the whole thing warily until bedtime.

He warmed up to the dinosaur when we tried again this morning, emphasizing that it’s a baby dinosaur, and look, it’s saying hello with a baby rawr.  I found it later, stuffed between the couch cushions.  We may have to put it away for a while.

He must be a changeling

We had a major breakthrough at the beach yesterday.  Like, BIG.

Are you ready?

Jack – wait, I don’t feel like you’ve prepared yourself enough.  I’ll give you another few seconds.

Okay.

Jack played in the water.  For reals.  He was hesitant to go in at first, but he was willing to take one slow step at a time in, his back up against my legs and his hands in mine, all the way up to mid-shin.  Then he scrambled to get up in my arms, but from there, he pointed imperiously out to sea.  “Mama, DAT!”  So I did.  We waded out together, John close behind, until I was waist deep and waves were splashing us both.  He kicked his legs and splashed with his hands, laughed when waves got him in the face (He LAUGHED!  He still wails when we get water in his face in the bathtub!), and giggled when we spun him around in circles with his hands trailing in the water.  When he got too heavy for both of us (we were taking turns holding him), we went back to where he could stand, and he marched and splashed and played, and it was like he was a whole different kid.  And he protested getting out of the water!  I promised him we would come back after the holiday weekend, and he agreed to come out.

What a nice surprise.

New cutest things

Jack keeps adding cute things to his repertoire, and I must share them:

  • You already know that Jack calls any vehicle trailer a choo-choo, any truck pulling a trailer a choo-choo guck, and any boat a boop.  Unsurprisingly then, the first time he saw a car pulling a boat on a trailer, he pointed and shouted “Choo-choo boop!”
  • A sheep is a baa, and he knows that sheep say “baa baa”, and one day while changing his diaper, he was repeating “baa baa baa baa”, so I started singing “Baa-baa-baa Baa-baa-baa-ran”.  He requests it now.
  • For a while (sadly, he doesn’t do anymore), while he was (not) trying to fall asleep in his crib, he would sing to himself.  “E-i-e-i-guck,” and then immediately “Yay!” and clap for himself.  Over and over.  He still says yay and claps when songs end.
  • He pretends to give his stuffed animals drinks from his water cup.
  • He pretends to have his Elmo doll (and others) walk and run across the floor.
  • He picks up anything that looks remotely like a smartphone, holds it to his ear, says “Hello-bye!” and puts it down fast.
  • He tells jokes!  Okay, one joke.  He looks at me, says “Hi, Dada!”, waits for my shocked expression, and laughs like a loon.  Then he’ll say “Hi, Mama!” to John.  Then we’ll ask him who we are, he’ll get us both right, and then he’ll point to himself and say, “Dada!” and laugh some more.
  • He calls himself “you”.  When the three of us are together, he likes to point it out.  “Mama, Dada, YOU!”  And if there’s something he wants to do for himself (like turn on the light) and one of us tries to do it first, he’ll say, “No, YOU!” which was very confusing at first.

 

He objects to naps with his whole being

No naps in six days, guys.  SIX.  DAYS.  And Jack has woken up four of the last six nights.  We are all still sane (we think – would we know?), but Jack has the darkest circles under his eyes.  It’s so sad.  Today, he tried the poop method again.  It wasn’t a constant barrage, but “Poop.  POOP.” was interspersed regularly with “Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama” and “Hello tree?”  (“Hello tree” is his request to open the skylight shade, which he knows signals the end of the nap.  When I answer with “No, night-night tree”, he gives a giant wail of despair.)  Anyway, he kept saying poop and I kept not smelling poop and then a half-hour later he was no longer lying to me.

Maybe it was luck (on his part), maybe he noticed he had to go and was telling me (a milestone), or maybe he willed himself to poop to get out of nap time (a superpower).  Regardless, that was it for nap time today.

Things were going so well!

Total about face

I’m back after a week-plus of silence – all my free time has been spent working or watching WorldCon panels – and I just re-read my last post where I got all excited about Robert Silverberg, and MAN do I have different opinions about that now.  After the Hugo Awards ceremony.  After the Hugo Awards ceremony that wouldn’t end.  After the Hugo Awards ceremony that wouldn’t end because two super-famous, super-old, super-white, and super-out-of-touch men wouldn’t stop talking about the past. It was mostly GRRM, but Silberberg’s segment was just as bad.  They mispronounced finalists’ names repeatedly and spent SO MUCH TIME talking about Campbell without ONCE acknowledging that the name of the award was changed to the Astounding Award, let alone WHY it was changed.  It felt deliberate, which, if it was, is super insulting.  If it wasn’t deliberate, then the nicest things you can say about them are that they’re hopelessly out of touch and possibly senile.  I’m not going to get into it much more than that (there are many people who did so online, and they go into much more detail), but I would like to take back my squee.  It left a bad taste in my mouth.

I need more nerd friends

Specifically, I need more SFF book nerd friends.  I have Erik (THANK YOU, ERIK, AND WE NEED TO TALK BOOKS MORE), but I need more.  This WorldCon thing is hammering it home for me.  Tonight, for example, I’m watching a panel about Modern SF Criticism, and Robert Silverberg, who is not a panelist, submitted a question and comment, and GUYS.  Robert Silverberg is watching the same panel I’m watching.  If this weren’t virtual, we would be in the same room.  ROBERT SILVERBERG.

I have no one to squee with.

I mean, the people I would squee with are at this convention (virtually), so I have a goal to find/start a book club.  That I don’t have time for.