This would have made a lot more sense when we lived in San Francisco

This morning I came downstairs after taking a shower and found my wallet on the floor and Milo and Huck lying in a pile of credit cards, ATM slips, receipts, and useless trash that I carry around with me out of fear that I will someday need to prove something to someone somewhere.

I checked my wallet. All my cash was gone and the boys weren't talking.

Me: Where's your sister?

Them: Outside.

I walked out the front door and Annabella was carefully laying twenty dollar bills on the porch steps.

Me: What are you doing?

Annabella: I am giving money to the people who live on the stairs.

Me: Who lives on the stairs?

Annabella: The people. My job is to give everyone who lives on the stairs money so they can go to Hawaii. Everyone should get to go to Hawaii.

You are a better parent than I am

In my defense, I haven't been feeling well lately. It's nothing serious, just tired and worn down from the week. Yesterday afternoon Marco took the boys to the grocery store and I thought Annabella and I could relax in front of the television.

That's when I got the bright idea that Annabella might enjoy watching a bit of the movie I have out from Netflix right now, Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price. I started watching it the night before, so while I knew it wasn't exactly appropriate for children, I didn't think it would be harmful. I also didn't expect her to actually sit down and watch it with me, but she did. That's what happens when you deprive a child of television. They will watch anything.

So we've been watching the movie for 15 minutes when there's this clip from the Jon Stewart show. Defending allegations that they don't pay employees overtime, Wal-Mart's CEO asserts that they pay employees for every hour they work. Then Stewart says something like "Wow, if you work for us, we'll pay you. Working for Wal-Mart: It's better than getting kicked in the nuts." Annabella laughs loudly. I try not to acknowledge it. There's no way she knows what the word "nuts" means in this context and drawing attention to it would just make it worse. She probably thinks, as I do, that pretty much anything Jon Stewart says is funny, even if you don't understand what he's talking about. I let the movie run a little longer and then announce that we're going to do something else.

About an hour later, Marco is on the floor wrestling with Annabella when she accidentally kicks him on the hand and says "I kicked you in the knuckles. Well, it's better than getting kicked in the nuts."

See below for the offending clip:

Toddler teaches mom to see forest for trees

This morning as we walked to pick up Annabella from school Huck said, "Mommy, you cannot hold me because I'm too busy."

Divorce Four Year Old Style

Annabella: When Leslie came over last night why didn't she bring her husband?

Me: Leslie doesn't have a husband.

Annabella: Why doesn't she have a husband?

Me: She had a husband, but now they're divorced. (Immediately after I answer I realize I've given too much information. I could have said, "Every woman doesn't need a husband," and that would have been absolutely not a lie and not an invitation to explain a difficult situation that I would prefer for her to learn from some stupid after school special several years in the future.)

Annabella: What did you just say?

Me: She had a husband, but now they're divorced.

Annabella: What did you just say?

Me: She had a husband, but now they're divorced. (I feel like if I keep repeating myself I will not have to explain what "divorced" means. I don't know where I get this idea, because it's never happened that way before.) 

Annabella: (Laughing) I don't think I know what that means.

Me: Leslie and her husband were married and now they're not married anymore. (Here's where I expect to get the inevitable, "why?" But I don't.)

Annabella: Because they don't love each other anymore? (She says this as if someone's explained it to her before, and maybe they have but I prefer to believe that she's just growing up and learning to infer on her own.)

Me: That's exactly right.

Annabella: Can I have my breakfast now? 

protecting her daddy

Annabella: See this street we're crossing right now? The other day when daddy was walking me to school there was a woman who didn't even stop at that stop sign.

Me: Really?

Annabella: Yes, really. She just went right through and didn't even see us.

Me: What did daddy do?

Annabella: He yelled at her really loudly, even though she was too far away to hear.

Me: What did he yell?

Annabella: I don't think I should tell you.

Identifying Body Parts

I realize that the following admission will probably mean that the National Organization for Women might come knocking on my door and demand that I turn over my membership card, or at least give back my "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle" poster.

But, I'm feeling the need for honesty today, so here it is:

Before we had our boys we did not teach Annabella the proper name for her vagina.

That's right, we called it a "wee wee" or a "woo hoo" and even when for some reason she started calling it a "bottom," we didn't correct her right away. But when it became clear to her that both of her brothers came with different equipment than she did, she didn't buy it when we called what they had a "wee wee" too.

Without a proper name the penis, Annabella often came up with her own. "Package" was popular for a while and then for some reason she started calling it a "gun." I was somewhat alarmed by this and I told Marco that I didn't want her to associate the male sexual organ with violence.

I don't remember his exact response, but it was somewhere along the lines of, "What's wrong with her being scared of penises? I'd be more than happy if she were scared of them for ever."

But soon enough we both have come around to the logic of simply naming the penis and the vagina. And I know that I'm supposed to find both of those words equally easy to say and to hear her talk about, but at first I didn't. Now I'm fine with it and find a lot of humor in the various discussions surrounding body parts. Such as the night a few weeks ago when my mom was giving all the kids a bath. I was in the other room folding laundry when I heard my mom say, "Don't touch your penis, Milo."

To this Annabella corrected, "Actually, everyone is allowed to touch his own penis or his own vagina."

But, what do you really think of me?

Tonight Annabella says, "I am Ariel, daddy is the little fishy, my brothers are the sea eels, and you are Ursula the Sea Witch." For those unfamiliar with Ursula, here is her description from the ever-helpful wikipedia:

"She has the body of an overweight purple-skinned, white-haired female human (modeled after drag performer Divine), and from the waist down she has the tentacles of a black squid."

Is it not enough that most of the mothers are dead in these stories?

There goes my mother of the year award: Example 352

Marco walks Annabella to school on Wednesdays, so as they were getting ready to go today I reminded him that Annabella's friend Chloe would be coming home with her from school for a playdate and if Chloe's mom said something about it then he should act like he knew what she was talking about so she wouldn't be worried.

For some reason I felt I needed to elaborate on this and give examples of what not to say. I can't think I'm the only wife who feels she needs to micromanage her husband's behavior in public.

"So," I added, "When she says 'Chloe's going to your house after school today,' don't say 'What, you mean our crack den?'"

And for some reason the phrase "crack den" seemed especially funny to all three of our children and then they began repeating and then singing it over and over again for nearly five minutes. Thankfully, after a few rounds it somehow morphed into "kitty cat den." 

What we talk about when we talk about death

Tonight at bedtime Annabella and I were discussing our friends who are about to have a baby.

Me: Isn't it amazing that the baby is in Kerry's belly and then in a few weeks the baby will be out in the world and then she's going to live in the world her whole life?

Annabella: Yes, wouldn't it be funny if she grew up and she was still a baby?

Me: Yes, that would be funny, but how could that happen?

Annabella: Well, she could grow up and then be a baby again and grow up and then be a baby again.

At this point I'm beginning to wonder what they're teaching her at this Montessori preschool of hers. Is reincarnation on the schedule somewhere between learning to trace her name and learning how to sweep the floor?

Annabella: You know, like Great Grandpa who is 1, 2, 3...(she counts to 18.) Is Great Grandpa 18?

Me: No, Great Grandpa is 86.

Annabella: Things get very old and then they die.

Me: Yes, who told you that?

Annabella: You did.

Me: Really?

Annabella: Yes, when Paul's dog died you said it was because he was very old.

This is true. Paul is our neighbor and he is that kind of old person who you forgive for saying pretty much anything that comes into his head. He is also one of the few people I know who still tells Monica Lewinsky jokes. He used to have a dog was an incredibly loud howler. Last month as I was walking by his house with the boys in the stroller and Annabella on her bike, Paul announced, "You won't hear my dog howling anymore because he's dead." This set off a series of death questions that must have resulted in my telling Annabella that Paul's dog died because he was very, very old.

Me: Yes, he was very very old.

Annabella: Much older than daddy.

Me: Yes, much older than daddy.

Annabella: And much older than Milo and Huck.

Me: Yes, much older than Milo and Huck.

Annabella: And much, much older than great grandpa.

Me: Yes, much, much, much older than great grandpa.

Annabella: Did you know that monsters are older than ghosts?

Annabella's Inconvenient Truth

Annabella was using the bathroom the other day and started pulling a massive amount of toilet paper off the roll. We were at the gym where they had one of those big dispensers with more than one roll in it.

Me: That's too much toilet paper. You need to save some for your great grandkids.

AB: (With a so-frustrated-with-her-mother's-ignorance look) I don't have any great grandkids.

Me: You might someday.

AB: Well, then they can use that other roll.