Duck. . . Duck. . .

When I dropped Mikie off at daycare last week, the kids were playing Duck, Duck, Goose. I don't know if Mikie had ever played before, but it had all the elements to become his new favorite game: tapping/hitting people on the head, running, throwing oneself on the floor.

Later that night, Mikie told Mike all about this new game. As with most games, Mikie wanted us to play. I wish our camcorder was working, because I don't know that I can do it justice describing the scene. Imagine Mike and I sitting in a "circle" (translation: sitting across from each other). Mikie walked around us, patting us on the head in turn saying "Duck. . . Duck. . . Duck. . . Duck. . . Goose". We would get up and chase him around the "circle" (translation: the sole person remaining in a seated position), until he decided to sit down.

During the third or fourth round of Duck, Duck, Goose, Mike was the "ducker". Mikie looked like he was going to pee his pants with anticipation over who Mike would pick. From that moment on, he started squealing "GOOSE ME, DAD!" everytime Mike was the ducker.

It brings a whole new meaning to the game. . .

Love, The Trahans

Bedtime Ritual

Every day, Mikie reminds me of my sister, Katie, a little more. His looks, to an extent. His outgoing personality. Everytime I have to say the words "Mikie, No!", I think back to the number of times my parents yelled "Katie, No!". Every morning that Mikie won't get out of bed, I think of Katie yelling "5 more minutes" to anyone who tried to wake her from her beauty sleep. Everytime Mikie tries to convince me of something I don't want him to eat, I think of my toddler sister trying to convince our Grandfather that you CAN put butter on a hotdog.

The latest in Mikie/Katie parallel: the bedtime ritual. Oh how vividly I remember the evening serenade "I need a drink of water". Followed, 10-15 minutes later by an open bedroom door, my mother yelling "Katie, get back in your room", with my sister arguing "But I have to use the bathroom!"

Unlike Katie, Mikie seems to have adopted this ritual at an earlier age. Every evening, within ten minutes of Mike closing his bedroom door, a voice calls down the stairs "Daa-aad, I need a drink of waa-ter." It is especially funny since he has a bottle of water next to the head of his bed.

Ten minutes after Mike puts him to bed the SECOND time, a similar voice sings "Daa-aad, I need to use the pot-ty." Depending on Mike's mood, he may simply yell up, "Turn on the light, go use the bathroom, flush when you are done, turn out the light, and go back to bed!" (You have to list every step, or he will run back to bed without flushing.) If he is in a good mood, he'll go up the stairs to supervise.

Ten minutes after returing to bed the THIRD time, you may hear a voice asking "Dad, are the Patriots on TV? 'Cause I love the Patriots." (Die hard New Englander, or Brown Nose, you be the judge.)

If he were REALLY smart, he would start asking about the Red Sox. He might get further.

Love,
The Trahans

Happy Birthday to Me

Well, in the grand scheme of things, turning 30 was definitely momentous. I mean, I can't remember any other time I had a fever of 103.8. And, I can't remember the last time I gave blood on my birthday.

On the plus side, Mike and Mikie worked very hard to make my birthday a pleasant memory. I was well enough in the morning to drive Mikie to daycare for his Valentine's Day party. Of course, being sick, I was wearing long underwear, sweatpants I have had since college, a sweatshirt, two pairs of slipper socks, winter boots, an old oversized wool coat (the only one that would fit over my many layers), and to complete my ensemble, a pink Red Sox winter hat. Sorry, I don't have any pictures to share, you'll have to use your imagination. Obviously, I wasn't trying to make a fashion statement. But, I guess your child thinks you're beautiful no matter what. Because, my son ran straight into daycare and announced to everyone (including parents I have never met) "It's Mommy's Birthday!" My only saving grace was that he did not know how old I was.

After the humiliation of daycare, and another trip to the doctor's, I returned home to Mike and Mikie. Mikie had a theme to his gifts for me. There was a monkey statue, which Mikie selected and painted himself. Well, he actually fell asleep while Mike painted it, but it's the thought that counts. Mike also painted me a flower shaped picture frame as a gift, so he had twice as much work.

In addition to the monkey statue, Mikie picked out a monkey card. He made a point of showing me that the monkey on the card was "fuzzy" and came complete with a monkey pin that I could wear. In keeping with the monkey theme, Mike got me a Valentine's Day card with a monkey on it.

On a more serious side, Mike tried hard to make the day special. He had a bouquet of tulips and crocuses delivered to work. And, since I was too sick to go to work, he drove all the way there to pick them up for me so I could enjoy them while they were alive. My big present (and the reason I am blogging right now), is that he bought me a laptop, complete with wireless card and wireless router. So, while I have been sick in bed, I was able to stay connected to the internet. And, while we watch TV at night, I can update the blog without feeling like I am ostracized to another room.

So, in spite of feeling (and looking) like a zombie, turning 30 was painless. With the exception of giving blood while dehydrated. . . that stung. I guess it can only get better from here.

Love,
The Trahans

Chicken Little

I apologize in advance to our friend's, Chris and Christine. But, this story was too funny not to post.

Our good friends, Chris and Christine, have a son, Matthew, who is 4 months younger than Mikie. It's great because we can get together and the boys entertain each other. Although, I've noticed some differences.

Matthew and Chris came to visit one weekend. Mikie was thrilled to show Matthew his "Whac-a-Mole" toy. The toy is noisy on its own. Add to the lights and sounds, Mikie with a hammer yelling "BAM" every time he hits the innocent mole (or gopher as he calls it). Matthew ran up to me informing me that it was "too loud". Welcome to my world. Being a nice friend (at least for that moment), Mikie set down his hammer for a quieter game they both were interested in playing.

Evidently, personality isn't the only thing that differentiates these two. We spent last weekend visiting the Ryans. Mikie, fully potty trained, stopped playing to use the potty. Matthew, still learning, was interested in watching Mikie pee. The first potty break went without incidence. Later in the evening, Mikie had to go again, and Matthew stood right next to the bowl to get a closer look. Mid stream, Matthew points to Mikie's penis and announces, "You have a big chicken. Matthew's chicken is little." Mikie, looked down to see what Matthew was talking about and announced "That's not a chicken, that's my penis".

Of course, I was laughing to the point of crying. While I had heard that Matthew referred to a certain part of his anatomy as his "chicken", I never expected him to size up Mikie's. And, I didn't think Mikie would figure out what Matthew was referring to either.

Love,
The Trahans