Helpful Toys

Micah likes playing with his toy automobiles - whether it be Tonka trucks, little matchbox cars or mini Hot Wheels monster trucks (from auntie Hannah). Recently he and I have let these little toys "help" or "watch" with different activities. Say he's playing with a mini monster truck and he needs to brush his teeth...I'll just tell him to bring it along to "help" by setting it on the bathroom counter while we brush his teeth.


Well the other day I told Micah mommy needed to do the dishes. He had a little monster truck in his hands, I think wanting to play with me. He instead put it on the counter to "help" me wash the dishes. This isn't unusual; as I've said before, these toys can be very helpful, whether it be while brushing teeth, cooking, doing the dishes, etc. However on this occasion, mommy was about to receive a whole lot more help. As I jumped into the task at hand, Micah kept running into the living room, getting another little trinket toy, running back into the kitchen, placing it on the counter and declaring that it was going to help as well..."airplane help mommy dishes" [run, run, run]..."spider help mommy dishes" [run, run, run]..."car help mommy dishes," etc. By the time the dishes were all placed in the dry rack, the counter top had quite the array of toys.

You say potato, I say potato...

Last week I made mashed potatoes for dinner. Micah really liked them. He told me they were "mashed tomatoes." Scotty and I said they were actually called "mashed potatoes." So Micah proceeded to say, "Not mashed tomatoes, mashed tomatoes." We didn't hear a difference, but he thought he had said two very different words. So Scotty and I emphasized the "p" and Micah tried it again. He boldly declared, "Mashed Puh-tomatoes."

Swimming with the feces

I knew this day would come. However, Micah didn't know this day would come, so he was quite frightened by the whole ordeal. Let's start at the beginning...

I cut Micah's hair on Tuesday. It took me a whole year to warm up to the idea again, and for Scott to let me even get near our toddler's golden locks with the trimmers again. It went a lot better this time than the last time I attempted to be his hair stylist.

After Micah's haircut, it was definitely bath-time; his face and neck were covered with hair trimmings. I filled up the tub, and let him have extra play time while I finished cleaning up the bathroom of all the fine little boy hair on the floor, chair, counter, etc. I got carried away in detailing the bathroom, and when I noticed Micah pausing in his water playland while having a concentrated expression, I knew I was too late. He was taking care of business.

I should have had a guarded, calm response, but instead I shrieked something like, "Oh no, Micah!!" When he glanced down and saw little brown logs bobbing around him, he just freaked out. As they came near to touching him, he just lost it. He starting panicking and crying, and clamored out of the tub as quickly as possible.

I calmed him down, let the tub drain, scooped out the you-know-what (not fun), washed the tub, filled 'er up again, and washed the little bobber making boy.

I know this incident made quite the impression on him, because the first thing out of his mouth after nap that day was, "poop in bath," and he told auntie Rachel the story when we spoke on the phone later that day.