monkey see-monkey do.

Max is an observer. He's always paid very, very close attention to everyone, especially Mason. He's had this infatuation with his big brother for a long time, but now that he's incredibly mobile, he's acting on it. Hello copy cat. Max also has quite a little temper so when he can't climb a 4 foot tree and dangerously jump from the branch (after being told to please not do so) just like his brother, he gets pissed. Quickly and furiously. This is what I call zero to sixty. Both my children have this lovely personality trait. I have no idea who they inherited that from...cough, their father...cough.

Mason is full of energy and pizazz. I love that about him. But if Max follows every step his brother did and cues in ultimately shaping his own being- from Mason's doing. I'm going to be in trouble. Lots of trouble. I'm going to have my hands full, at least that's what everyone at Target, the grocery store, hell, everywhere I go says. You'd think I was babysitting sextuplets or something freakishly similar; not just taking my well behaved twosome on a simple outing when we go out. Maybe it's because I look like a fresh faced high school freshman? If Max chooses to continue this monkey-see, monkey-must-do NOW phase, people are going to really think, know I'm slowly slipping away to insanity.

The other day I was sorting through and putting away laundry upstairs. I had safely locked the boys upstairs with me. I even set Max in his crib, you know with lots of toys and entertainment to stay busy for as long as possible (read: 2 minutes, max). I was on a roll, I'd procrastinated nearly a week, meaning I had roughly 500 pieces of clothing to put in it's proper drawer, in two rooms. Sounds like an easy task right? It's eerily daunting. It comes close to the chore of emptying the dishwasher or cleaning a highchair of a newly self-fed toddler. Not fun.

All of the sudden from Max's room, I heard squeals. Squeals of delight. Prior to this noise, I'd heard...well absolutely nothing. Silence is never a good sound in this house, unless I am fully aware that my children are sleeping, at the same time, which rarely happens in this house. I should have known better. Should have. I stopped mid-glory of sorting 3T boxer briefs from 12 month jammie shorts and headed towards the nursery. They're happy, whatever they're doing is making them laugh and it was that contagious, from the very bottom of you belly, laugh. Don't ruin their fun. I kept repeating this in my 1 minute lunge to check what could be so extremely entertaining. They have the same laugh. Identical. I couldn't tell who the instigator of the laughing fit was, because as soon as one would stop to take a breath, the other would burst in to a continued bout of laughter. How bad could it be?

I opened the door and saw two little monkeys. Jumping on their bed. Oh excellent, Mason has not spent more than 48 hours of HIS LIFE in a crib. Yet he voluntarily climbed in with his content (probably calm) brother and taught him to JUMP up and down and shriek in his bed. Joy. It was pretty damn joyous. At least they thought so. Do you see Max's intense observation going on? He is fully studying how Mason is jumping with ease and clutching the crib rail, pondering his own successful execution of this trick. And isn't it fitting they happened to be in matching attire that morning? I thought so.


Within three minutes Max had busted his head on the railing. SEE, little monkey you are still too small to see and then do (quickly and without processing the consequences). I took full advantage of this situation--you know two kids already in the crib and suggested a nap, both of them, in the crib, because that would go over great and all. Mason voluntarily launched himself from the crib, similarly to a teenager hurdling a fence from a raided house party, and bee lined it to his Hot Wheel Track. That little (somedays big) monkey was not so in to following his baby brother's lead straight to the land of nod. Maybe next time.

Since this incident Max has continued to see and (attempt to) do, just what his big brother does. He clearly did not learn from his head-straight-to-crib-rail encounter. Looks like I'm headed for trouble. DOUBLE TROUBLE.

jeopardy .

In the car Mason and I talk. A lot. This week I wanted to "quiz" him and see what answers he came up with for some of my important and then not so important questions. I'd have to give him a C. His answers were funny and the laughing that took place was well deserved on his part. He is such a riot and I seriously don't know where he comes up with half of the things that slip out of his mouth. He speaks the truth, well his truth.

Me: "If someone hits you what do you do?"
Mason: "Hit 'em right back. But harder 'den they hit you. Right Mommy? Das what you do? I push 'em hard until they fall. Just like when I push Max."

WRONG.

Me: "If a stranger says to come with them do you go?"
Mason: "Yes. Wait. Do I? Hmm. Maybe I stay wif my teachers."
Me: "Honey, do you know what a stranger is?"
Mason: "Yes. A kind of tiger."
Me: "Mm good guess, but it is not a tiger."
Mason: "I don't know. But I am going wif dem never. Rwight?"

Right. We'll work more on the stranger danger later. For now, I think Max has it covered. Because, Mr. Stranger look at him, I dare you, he will lose his shit. I dare you.

Me: "Next, question. Do we eat candy before bed?"
Mason: "No because you should be reading your books and candy makes your hands sticky and sticky hands make mommy mad and books makes you nice and I should be reading" (All said in 30 seconds, with no breathing in between words. Hello run on sentence of the century).
Pause.
Mason (again): "And no candy before dinner either. Because you will get SICK. That's what Yo Gabba Gabba told me, too much candy will make you sick. Focus mommy".


Right. But you forgot to mention the cavity factor or that eating chocolate five minutes (or five hours) before bed will have you HOPPED UP on sugar and the goal of this bedtime fantasy I speak of is SLEEP. For all of us. That's why I call it a fantasy. And I am so glad to know that everything I tell you to teach you is going directly out the other ear, but please continue listening to Yo Gabba Gabba, I am sure he is a wealth of knowledge.

Me: "What are 'your manners'?"
Mason: "Yes man (ma'am), thanks for some juice, Thanks, Welcome, K? Oh and fanks for asking me dat question Mommy but I'm all done with your game because I don't know anymore and I'm done talking now".

Well thank you for using your manners.

Me: "Just one more question please!"
Mason: "(sigh) Okay Mommy, just one more."
Me: "Who's birthday is coming up!?"
Mason: "Max, but not me. Because I just had my birfday. Now I'm free. And then I'll be 4,5,6,7,8,9 and 10."
Me: "Is Max getting a cake?"
Mason: "Yup a dinosaur cake because I wike those."Me: "But you already had your cake at your birthday. When you were three, remember?"
Mason: "Yes I remember. But itI still like them even though it is not my birfday. And he doesn't know his words, DATS WHY HE CRIES (said very loudly to make sure I got it). So I'm picking for him and I picked a dinosaur cake. Okay?!"

Because that all totally makes sense. Were going to have one pissed off dinosaur lover when the June bash rolls around and there is no myriad of dinosaur figurines atop the birthday cake. Sorry Mason sometimes you don't always get whatcha' want, or something like that.

And because I'm super sneaky I snuck in another question under Mason's super "No thank you I'm done talking" radar.Me: "When Mommy is driving can she use her cell phone?"
Mason: Very firmly spoken. "NO. because you cannot see if you are on the phone. Remember, always be careful on the road, don't hit any people or roads or trees and stuff because you will get hurt and go to timeout. And Daddy will NOT buy you another car. Okay?"

Because I can see out of my ears right? I am magical like that. Almost like a witch.
And there you have Jeopardy ala Mason. It appears that my child would go with a stranger, if they let him watch Yo Gabba Gabba and eat candy before bed time, but hey, at least, he'd say please. Raw and unedited, straight from the mouth of babes. I'll file this as a mini-Masonism.

Mason-isms.

I know it's common parental practice to think you have the most beautiful baby who then becomes the most developmentally advanced toddler ever who obviously turns in to most intelligent, borderline genius preschooler. Right? Oh wait..that's just me? Er...so I do think that sometimes and rightfully because Mason can put a puzzle together in .5 seconds, that totally qualifies him for Harvard Law right? Okay, okay, I get it, I'm biased, slightly, would you prefer the term considerably biased?

Biased or not, Mason is a hoot. That kid comes up with some off the wall, hilarious stuff. I feel like I'm always cracking up. Many nights, after bitty's are tucked in and I go to relive a story with Michael I have this mental block, like I can't remember a damn thing that happened all day long (except the multiple "meals" I cooked, had refused and thrown away for the boys).

Essentially that is why I started this blog. For myself to remember the good, the bad, the ugly when the boys aren't so little and maybe not wanting to be their mom's best (or only) friend. I feel like I don't share enough of the conversations, so I'm going to start recording all the funny's Mason comes up with. These are what I call "Mason-isms".

So far this week he's cracked us up with the following:

1.On the walk home from the park I asked Mason for one goldfish cracker. He looked at me slightly perplexed, mildy peeved and sighed "Okay mommy, just one. Listen to my words, (slowly speaking and raising him voice) JUST ONE, DO YOU HEAR MY WORDS MOMMY?" After I took just one as firmly instructed, he said "Oh mommy I like it when you listen to me. You a good wittle girl". Listen is usually pronounced "wissen". I guess he's been listening to my words a little much.

2.For this one you need a little back story.

{Mason has this overkill obsession with playing on my computer. The V-Tech kid laptop, no, no that is not enough. Let's get our hands real greasy and sticky and play mommy's computer. Anyway, we try to keep it educational and all that jazz and let's get real, how much trouble can a kid get into on Sesame Street's website. No matter the time limit he's given, a fit always ensues when it's time to get off the computer and do anything else. So usually we have to get all bossy like real parents and say "See that red x up in the corner, you have two choices, you can click it, or I will." This of course is rarely complied with and a screaming flailing 29 pound child is usually carried off to the torture chamber we call a bathtub. Yesterday we were getting ready for the park and I was checking my email one last time to see if something I was waiting for had been shipped.}

Mason was done being patient and looked at me dead in the eye and told me "Mommy you got one minute to push that red X and if you don't do, I will. You got that?" I couldn't do anything but laugh as my tyrannical three year old X-ed out my Mozilla window.

3. We borrowed my sister's Wii to give Mason an extra fun night of entertainment. He loves Super Mario Brothers even though it's far to advanced for a 3 year old (and his computer game failure mother). Rule is I go first and make sure all harm is out of Mario's (Mason's) way. We were on a roll, I was stomping mushrooms and de-shelling turtles like a champ. Mason looked at me so happily and proud as Mario ran swiftly behind in a path clear of destruction. He smiled at me and said "Mommy thanks for having my back". Of course, I had to laugh, but then said, "I always will".

4. So believe it or not I do own and use a vacuum. We have wood flooring (or fake wood I suppose) and so my huge area rug often gets a little shake outside to minimize my household 'chores'. Therefore, when the vacuum does make his grand appearance my boys faces look like I am chasing them in a hockey mask with a huge machete. Horror. Mason was mid Dora episode when I busted it out a few days ago. His eyes grew to the size of Jupiter and he said "Dat is NOT a vacuum, DAT is a monster mommy". I smirked and nodded, because I couldn't agree more. However I think it will fare well if we continue vacuuming once a year baby.