knock knock...

G started that whole business with us from the backseat for the first time ever.  It went like this.

G: Knock knock
Mama: Who's there?
G: Car
Mama: Car who?
G: Car fell down
Mama:  Oh, car fell down!  Ha ha hahaha!
G & L's Dad: snort
L: Knock knock...
G: No, L.  G's turn.  Knock knock
(As you can probably imagine, this was far from the end of the knock knock fun.)


Obviously, G still has some things to learn about jokes, but I am excited he want to be a part of it!  I bet it won't take him long before he has an arsenal of fully memorized knock knock knockouts.

if toys aren't available

Here's a helpful idea from my son G on what you can do if toys aren't available:

1.  Use balled fists as two crash-test puppets (especially great if it's bedtime, or you are riding in the car) and slam your fists into each other while making explosion or detonation style sound effects.

2.  Drop both fists to lap (or blankets if lying in bed) and begin flailing one about while making a crying noise (this can be fairly realistic sobbing or more of an half-hearted whining)

3.  Have the other fist ask the crying/whining fist "Are you okay?"

4.  Answer happily with formerly crying fist "I'm okay." in a sing song way.

5.  Have concerned fist reply "Oh, good, glad you're okay."

6.  Repeat step one with louder explosion noises.

This activity is good for at least twenty minutes worth of otherwise wasted naptime or quiet car-rides.  Enjoy!

orange socks, red shoes

Every time G gets new shoes (and I throw away his oldest most beaten up pair) the new shoes are not nearly so exciting as the ones that he had virtually no interest in previously.  I'm not entirely sure why, but this has happened three times in succession now.  Currently we have orange shoes and red shoes.  We used to have red shoes and blue shoes.  The blue ones were his favorites, but now the formerly shunned red shoes are way out in front.

Other clothing quirks of late involve socks.  G has been throwing huge, collapse on the floor fits when we announce it's time to put socks on.  Because of this he has been mostly barefoot even though it's cooold, unless we leave the house.  So we tell him it's time to wear socks and get a pair from the dresser.  He cries and screams and throws the socks across the room.  I finally figure out that he wants to choose his socks.  And he doesn't want to choose white socks.  Or gray socks.  Or beige socks.  No, he wants the very elusive green socks and black socks and red socks.  He tells me one afternoon he wants orange socks.  We put on the orange socks.  Five minutes later orange is no longer in style.  Blue is the new orange.  We change.  (I somewhat sneakily and a little bit guiltily put the orange pair away in the drawer again.)  Sometimes he goes to school in a blue shirt, blue pants, orange socks and red shoes.  If he's happy and clean, it's okay with me (this doesn't apply to weddings or funerals).

I need to buy more orange socks.  Soon.

Likewise, L has her own ways of dealing with clothes.  These mostly involve getting her clothes dirty within five minutes of being dressed, taking her shoes off compulsively and then crying to have them put back on again, and trying to steal her brothers clothes and figure out how to wear them instead of her own.

Sometimes I get annoyed by all this, but usually I just laugh and bring out seven pairs of socks to choose from.