Christmas

Now that Mikie is in school, he has been learning a lot of new things. Days of the week, months of the year, seasons, the weather, even holidays. He of course is very excited about the coming of Christmas. At least once a week, the post office graciously delivers "magazines" (aka, toy catalogs) to our house. Mikie studies them like he is studying for his MCATs. I only hope he is as studious when school starts. He finds something he likes, and the conversation goes like this:

Mikie: pointing to a toy "What's this, Mom?"

Mom: "Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em Robots."

Mikie: "Read it to me, Mom."

Mom: "'A classic since 1966. Remember the fun you had competing for the title? Two contenders control the plastic boxers every move until the winner knocks loose the other’s spring-loaded head. Lots of action and competition. Will Red Rocker or Blue Bomber prevail?'"

Mikie: "I could have these robots. I could get them for my birthday."

Mom: "Your birthday is over. You can ask Santa for them, and if you are a good boy, MAYBE he will bring them to you."

Mikie: "I will write a letter to Santa so he can bring me these robots for me." (as opposed to bringing them to our house for someone else.)

I figured, since he was so into the idea of Santa, that I would read some Christmas stories, and let him watch "Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown". Heck, if for no other reason than it is a welcome break from watching the "Cars" movie for the 1,000 time. Well, a week after watching the movie, we were sitting a dinner talking about holidays. I asked Mikie what happens at Christmas. Acceptable answers included "Baby Jesus is born", "Santa comes", "It snows", etc. Not Mikie. He looks at us and says "Christmas is commercial, Mom". "Christmas is a racket."

Evidently, instead of picking up on the love and acceptance in the movie, Mikie chose to remember "Christmas is a commercial racket."

Good grief.

Love, The Trahans

The Money & The Purse

Last night, Fisher Price sent us a catalog. First, let me say that I have no idea why Fisher Price started printing catalogs. Their product lines are household names sold in every store that carries toys. Why do they need to waste money printing catalogs when Toys 'R Us prints one for them? Second, I have no idea how I ended up on there mailing list.

None the less, for whatever reason we received the catalog. Mikie, with his super senses, immediately detected the presence of a "magazine" in the house. His mission, as always, to find and read said "magazine" and point out every item that he finds of interest. Today's obsession: the "lots of animals" toy, also known as, the Little People A to Z Learning Zoo.

Since it was educational (helps with learning letter recognition), and we are a bunch of suckers, Mike agreed that we would go to the story and buy this toy. Only after Mikie explained our roles in the shopping trip:

Mikie: "We will go to the store and get the lots of animals. And Dad will bring the money."

Mike: "Does Mom need to come if I have the money?"

Mikie: "Mom will come and bring her purse."

Lauren: "Does my purse have money in it."

Mikie: "No. Dad has the money."

Evidently, my roll is clear. I carry the purse. Mike carries the money. Why I bother working, I have no idea.

Love, The Trahans

Mulch, anyone?

Our newest phase of potty training: big boy underwear. With the excitement (and savings) of not going through as many diapers comes the fear of when, and where, Mikie may pee next. Since Mikie and I spend approximately 40 minutes in the car every morning and every night, I just keep praying that he can hold his bladder for more than the duration of our commute.

We returned home one evening, and no sooner did I turn around to put my purse down, than I see Mikie doing the pee-pee dance. You've all done it: knees turned inwards, ankles crossed, bobbing up and down, trying to will the urine to stay put. I asked Mikie if he had to use the potty. While he said "Yes", I quickly realized that Mikie's version of the pee-pee dance is clearly a post-pee-pee-celebratory dance. Like when you dance after scoring a touch down: he evidently dances after making a puddle on the carpet.

So, I rushed him to the potty, just in case there was more in there. Of course, there wasn't. So, I started to remove his urine stained clothes. As I took off his shoes, dirt came flying out, all over the bathroom floor. As if the puddle in the family room wasn't enough, I know get to vacuum the bathroom. I naively asked Mikie, "What did you do, roll in the dirt at school?" To which he responded with all seriousness, "I put woodchips in my shoes, Mom." Of course, how silly of me. Where else would you put woodchips, right? The child had enough woodchips in his shoes to mulch a flower bed. How he fit his feet in, I have no idea.

Love, The Trahans

Sunny Days

After a week of heat, humidity, and thunder storms in Massachusetts, we were fortunate enough to have sunny days during our trip to Pennsylvania and "Sesame Place". Or, as Mikie calls it "Elmo's World".

I have to say that Anheuser Busch could stop selling beer tomorrow and still make money. We spent $16 on parking, $45/person on admission, $12 for a locker to hold our stuff while we were in the park, $47 on food, $20 for pictures taken of Mikie with Elmo and Oscar the Grouch, and I can't even remember how much in the gift shop. And, we went on 5 rides. Or, Mikie did. Ernie's Bouncy Bed was for kids only, and we couldn't really climb on the sand slides either. So, Grandma Pookie, Mike, and I went on 3 rides. Mikie went on 5. In spite of the cost, we had a great time. We were all excited to see Cookie Monster, Big Bird, and the other characters.

Here's some highlights of our trip:

Mikie, Mom, and Cookie Monster

There are three, THREE people in this picture. . . Mikie, Dad, and The Count pose for a picture.

Mikie runs to give Elmo a hug.

We were informed by the photographer that Elmo is not a "monster", that we should call him an orange "creature" because that was less scary. Obviously, Mikie was not scared. And, I am sure the writers of Sesame Street would find it amusing to know that they have to change character names to "Cookie Creature".

The last ride of the day: Mikie bounces on Ernie's Bed. If you click on the picture, you can watch some video footage. If you listen carefully, you can hear some Mikie catch phrases such as "Man Down" and "Go Mikie Trahan!"
Shortly after filming this, I got to break the rules and climb on Ernie's Bed to retrieve the Trouble maker who PROMISED he would get off when the lady told the kids time was up. Obviously, listening and following directions are still concepts we are trying to master. Although, he was quick to listen when Grandma Pookie went to buy ice cream!

Love, The Trahans

"When I Was A Boy"

Mikie was enjoying his dinner of peanut butter on banana this evening, when he informed me that peanuts are crunchy. Every trying to infuse learning into a conversation, I ask him what the peanut butter is (smooth, creamy, soft, all would have been good answers). Mikie's answer: "it's peanut butter". I start explaining that peanut butter is smooth and creamy, and that peanuts are crunchy. Then, Mikie informs me that peanuts make teeth come out. Curious (and half wondering if he lost a tooth) I asked him how he knew this. He told me the following story:

Mikie: "When I was a boy. . . "

Mom: choking on my drink while laughing "When you were a boy?" (thinking to myself, what are you now, a girl or a man?)

Mikie: "When I was a little boy, I ate some bread and my tooth came down and fell right out."

The story went on, very serious, about opening the refrigerator and another tooth falling out, and about sleeping and climbing up, to where, I never found out. All I could focus on was "When I was a boy. . . " Next week he'll start telling me how he had to walk up hill to get to school.

While life was less exhausting, it was also far less entertaining before Mikie.

Love, The Trahans

Mikie and the "Max Sound Blaster"

One of Mikie's favorite movies is Toy Story (aka The Buzz Woody Movie). He has both a Buzz Lightyear action figure and a Sheriff Woody action figure (aka doll). At the time we bought them, I did not think that Disney could make a more obnoxious toy then these two dolls. Don't get me wrong, I love Toy Story. It is a great movie. But, when all you hear for an hour after your toddler climbs into bed with you at four in the morning is "Howdy, Partner" and "Your my favorite deputy", you would be praying for the days of silent movies.

Fast forward to August. The catalogs of halloween costumes are appearing in our mailbox. And, Mikie, flipping through "his magazines" as he likes to refer to them, sees a Buzz Lightyear costume. Not wanting to find out in a few weeks that they are sold out of his size (which happened to the dinosaur costume we looked at last year), I went online and ordered the costume. And, as all good websites do, the Disney website suggested other items that would compliment my Buzz Lightyear costume, including the "Max Sound Blaster". The description says it all:

"Defend the galaxy alongside Buzz! This awesome light-up blaster comes with 10 different sounds, and side pump to warp sounds."

For the low price of $12.99, of course I added it to my cart. I could picture Mikie in his Buzz Lightyear costume, running from door to door, armed with his "laser" yelling "TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!"

And then came UPS. Today we received the costume, complete with "Max Sound Blaster". Let's just say, Disney succeeded in creating a toy more obnoxious than those talking dolls. The "Max" in "Max Sound Blaster" stands for "Maximum Volume, Maximum Noise". The description failed to mention that there is no on/off switch and no volume control. Translation, buying this toy means an end to any peace and quiet you may have had. I am sure Disney assumed that if you were purchasing the "Max Sound Blaster", you must have a boy between the ages of 3 and 12 and that peace and quiet were words permanently blasted from your vocabulary.

Moral of the story: Think twice before buying any toy with the words "Max", "Sound", and "Blast" in the description.

Love, The Trahans

Peacock

In celebration of the fact that Mikie used the potty all day today (we'll forget the fact that he informed me this morning that I needed to clean his bed because it was "wet"), we took Mikie to Friendly's for dinner. As I told Mikie, everyone's a winner when we eat at Friendly's because Mikie gets hotdogs, french fries and ice cream, and Mom & Dad don't have to cook or clean.

So, we placed our orders and settled in to coloring and small talk while waiting for our meal. Every once in a while, Mikie likes to blurt out random words. Usually, when he gets excited, he yells "MEATBALL", "GREEN BEAN", or on occasion "CHEESEBURGER". But, this evening, while sitting at Friendly's, he turned to the table of girls behind him and yelled "PEACOCK". It may not sound funny to you, but there is something about the enthusiastic sing-song way in which he screams these random words that makes me laugh out loud.

Thankfully, the waitress brought our dinner immediately after this outburst. We have managed to convince Mikie that all restaurant personnel are taking notes to make sure he eats all of his dinner. If he does, they let the "chef" know to make his ice cream. If not, no ice cream. This ploy has worked amazingly well in that Mikie always finishes his hot dog, and intentionally stops eating his french fries before filling up so that he has room for ice cream. Well, this evening, after finishing his last bite of hot dog, he noticed our waitress at a nearby table, replacing all of the bottles of ketchup. Eager for his ice cream, he turned around and announced:

Mikie: "Look, I ate my hotdog all up!"

Waitress: "Good job! Are you going to have ice cream?"

Mikie: "Yes, bring me my chocolate monster with ears."

Waitress: "Let me finish putting away these bottles of ketchup, and I'll come back to take your order."

After "PEACOCK", this was too much for me to handle. I tried to compose myself long enough to explain our deception to the unwitting waitress, but I couldn't stop laughing.

I think next time I am having a bad day, I am going to try yelling a random word to see if it helps. If I laugh half as hard as I did this evening, it should do some good.

CHEESEBURGER!
Love, The Trahans

Mikie Did It

Mikie has adopted a new habit. . . talking about himself in the third person. Sometimes it's appropriate. For example, when he is playing a sport, he says "Mikie scores!", like he is the commentator. Other times, it is just funny.

During dinner one evening, I mentioned that "Someone put stickers in his ears at school today."

Mike: looking at Mikie "Did someone put stickers in your ears?"

Mikie: "Yes"

Mike: "Who put stickers in your ears."

Mikie: "Mikie did it."

As if there was some other kid named Mikie who did these things!

Of course, we eventually got him to admit that he was in fact the "Mikie" who put stickers in his ears, and that a more appropriate choice of words would be "I put stickers in my ears." But, the next night when I asked him who knocked over my pile of clean laundry, his response was "Mikie did it."

Who knows, maybe the kid has an imaginary friend named Mikie Trahan. Or an evil twin I don't remember giving birth to.

Love, The Trahans

Ready, Aim, Pee!

Okay, it has taken months before I finally stopped laughing long enough to grab the camera and memorialize this for all posterity. Words alone could not adequately describe Mikie's potty technique:

Mike and I had been teaching Mikie to use the potty by sitting down. I mean, the last thing I wanted was to have half my bathroom covered in urine because he realized he could aim wherever he pleased. However, we didn't realize the daycare was trying to teach him to pee standing up.

So, you can imagine my surprise one day when Mikie announced he had to use the potty. I took him into the bathroom, and placed his potty seat on the toilet. He looked at me and said, "Not like that, Mom." I asked him to show me what he meant. He proceeded to lift the seat, leaning forward to hold the seat against the back of the toilet like so:

The first time, I was too shocked to grab the step stool. And, since our toilets are standard size (unlike the miniature bowls at daycare), and he wasn't wearing his shoes, he didn't exactly have enough height. So, while he had the best of intentions, he ended up "resting" on the edge of the bowl, rather than standing over it. Before I could compose myself, he had peed, with some urine trickling into the bowl, and some trickling onto the floor. As you can see, he has now perfected his technique!

One day, he will despise me for posting this picture on the internet. But, I laugh every time I see those cheeks!

Love, The Trahans

Fireworks

For the first time in three years, Mike and I managed to see fireworks on the 4th of July. Kind of. Actually, it was the 6th of July, since our town chose to do their display on Friday. And, Mike didn't really see the fireworks. . .

Evidently, the fireworks display is quite the event in Northbridge. The fire company brought one of the firetrucks for the kids to see. There was a moon bounce, fried dough (the New England equivalent of funnel cake), vendors selling glowing necklaces and glasses. Unfortunately, we didn't know that there would be anything to do other than sit in a field waiting for it to get dark, so we didn't show up until 15 minutes before hand. Now we know for next year. We were in time to sing the Star Spangled Banner. Kind of. The high school student who sang the National Anthem did not know the words, pausing for minutes while she tried to read her print out in the dark. While I was shocked that someone could be in high school and not know the National Anthem, I guess we can't really blame her since many celebrities who sing at sporting events also manage to mess it up.

Here's the crew, waiting for the show to start:

Mikie had a good time watching the crowd while drumming on the bleachers with GrandDa:The oversized headphones were a futile attempt to mask the sound of the fireworks. Unfortunately, Mikie was tramatized after the first boom, screaming "they're trying to get me".

Mike graciously volunteered to walk him back to the car while the rest of us watched the show. He managed to watch most of them from the parking lot, while Mikie distracted himself with episodes of "Little Einsteins".

Happy Belated Independence Day.

Love, The Trahans

Beach Bums

As a belated 4th of July treat, GrandDa and Auntie Katie came to visit on Thursday evening. Since both of them have bum legs, we decided to spend Friday at the beach.

After breakfast a la Grumpy (aka Grandpa Norm), we sprayed ourselves with Coppertone and built sandcastles on the beach. Mike and Mikie braved the waves, for about 60 seconds, until Mike realized his sunglasses, which were on his head, were washed out to sea.

Mikie kept running back to shore to inform us he "was scared of the water". Immediately following his announcement, he would grab Mike by the hand, drag him toward the water yelling "Let's do it again, Dad!". Obviously, he wasn't that scared.

Auntie Katie and Mike helped Mikie build a sandcastle. Actually, Mike buried his feet in the sand, while Mikie and Katie filled the bucket. After watching them attempt to flip the full bucket over a few times without success, Mike twisted around to help them out (making sure not to unbury his feet).

Mikie was gracious enough to pose with his sandcastle. . .
long enough for me to snap a picture before he destroyed it (he's all boy!)

And, as with all trips to Sam's Snack Bar, Mikie ended the day by helping himself to the soft serve ice cream. It's nice to have friends in high places. . . namely grandparents who own a soft serve ice cream maker.

Love, The Trahans

Watering the Grass

First, let me start by saying that watering a large yard with a traditional sprinkler is not fun. And, for everyone who reads this and thinks "Why don't they get an irrigation system installed?", we plan to. After we sell the BMW and buy a shed for Steve the Tractor.

So, we went for a walk after dinner one night, and Mikie kept running into all the neighbors sprinklers. In my infinite wisdom, I cajoled him back to our own yard by promising to turn on our sprinkler. This way, we could water the lawn, bathe the child, and wear him out, all before bedtime. Click on the picture below to see what fun ensued:

I apologize for the video quality; I used my camera rather than grab the camcorder.

Love,
The Trahans

The Move (aka Guess this Food)

Let me preface this story by saying how much I despise moving. When we moved into our house in Maryland, I swore I would never move again. Then we moved to Massachusetts, which was done in three stages: move to the apartment, move everything else out of Maryland, move everything into the Massachusetts house. And, I will admit that Mike dealt with a lot of the moving because I despise moving.

In spite of this, Katie needed help moving, so, of course, I went to help. Of course, having dislocated her knee that morning (read "The Fall" below), I ended up doing a lot more packing and lifting than I bargained for. More disgusting than all other tasks was emptying the refrigerator. These are some of the things I found:

WARNING: these pictures are not for those with a weak stomach. Consult your physician before viewing. Discontinue reading of this post immediately if you experience nausea.

Item #1: And the mystery item is. . . strawberries!

Item #2:

Survey says. . . Salsa! (I was seriously guessing cat food).

On a more positive note, Katie and I had quite a few laughs at her domestic negligence. And, her fuzzy roommates kept me company Saturday morning while I finished packing.

The cripple "helping" (translation: sitting on the couch trying not to injure herself).

Henry, trying to wrap himself in tissue paper for the trip.

Bud, afraid we would leave him behind, packed himself in a tupperware tote.

This time, I am serious when I say "no more moving". At least not for another 5 years.

Love, The Trahans

Bucket Head

After having dealt with one injured family member (namely Auntie Katie), Mikie figured I might miss playing the role of Florence Nightingale.

I got a call from the daycare two days after returning from Maryland. Evidently, one of the little girls threw water at Mikie. Except, instead of just throwing the water, she threw the whole bucket. It hit Mikie in the head and cut his eye. They assured me it wasn't deep, but might need a butterfly stitch because of the location.

I immediately left work and drove to get him. I was greeted at daycare by the following sight:

Mikie, who had been sitting next to the teacher, soaking wet in his bathing suit, jumped up, proudly shouting "Look, Mom, I got a boo-boo on my eye!". Jillian, Mikie's friend, was following me around saying "Is Mike gonna be okay?" and "I'm sorry, Mike". Too which Mikie responded with "Jilly gave me a boo boo!" I was frantically trying to dry Mikie off, change him into clothes, console Jillian, listen to the teacher who was apologizing, and digest the situation without crying at the sight of my beautiful child's face.

Unfortunately, between water play and the extra attention, Mikie was enjoying himself too much to leave with me. So, I naively promised that after we went to see the doctor we could get ice cream. One ice cream can't hurt. And, he's injured!

30 minutes later, we were fast approaching the doctor's office. In spite of the fact it was not yet 5 o'clock, and they are open until 8, I got the answering service. As I pulled off the exit ramp to go to the pediatrician's, they called me back to tell me to go directly to the ER in case he needs stitches. 45 minutes later, we arrived in Worcester at UMass Memorial. Dressed in my work clothes (translation: slacks with heels), I carry my 37-lb 2-1/2 year old, his diaper bag, my purse, and his Buzz Lightyear action figure through the construction zone, into the hospital, and around the inside to the ER. After checking in, physically and emotionally exhausted, I settled down, expecting a long wait.

The first thing Mikie saw: the cleaning woman's cart parked outside the bathroom. He kept pulling me, saying "Let's check it out, Mom". Trust me, he doesn't get it from me, but the kid loves to clean. To distract him from that (and the automatic doors that exit the ER) I showed him a hiding spot under the console table between the couches in the waiting room (yes, this ER was much nicer than any other I have been in). Of course, right after he wedged himself and Buzz under the table, they called our name. So, I literally dragged my child out from under the table by his feet, threw him over my shoulder and carried him back to the registration desk.

Charmer that he is, the staff loved him, and we were in and out of the ER within an hour. But, not before he managed to score a grape popsicle from the doctor in the pedes unit. . . without even asking! She heard him say, "I want ice cream, Mom", after they put drops in his eye to check that his cornea wasn't scratched and magically she reappeared with a popsicle.

An hour later, after we arrived back home and ate dinner, I had to take him back out for the ever promised ice cream. Because, as I found out, if you promise a kid an ice cream, a popsicle from a doctor doesn't count.

And, when the ice cream truck came by the following day, Trouble managed to guilt Mike and I into getting him ANOTHER ice cream.

Let's just say that three ice creams in two days is a lot of sugar for a child who's only source of sugar is fruit. Talk about high energy!Now, he looks like the Hockey Player he aspires to be (with a few extra teeth). Although, with all that ice cream, they should rot away in no time!

Love, the Trahans

Monkeying Around Town

While I was playing nurse and moving crew to Auntie Katie, Mike and Mikie were back in Massachusetts monkeying around.

They went to the beach on Friday to see Grandma Kerrie. Mikie conned Grandma Kerrie into walking him down to the water's edge (translation: he dragged her into the water until her shoes and jeans were saturated). And, while he didn't admit to it, I am sure she and Grumpy Grandpa Norm let Mikie make himself a tasty ice cream treat. After leaving the beach they headed to a local playground in Westerly and found a zip line (or zipper line as Mikie calls it) that Mikie rode back and forth more than a dozen times and made a couple new friends.

On Saturday, they ventured to Southwick's Zoo, which is only 15 minutes from our house. Mikie had a great time. Mike let him take a picture of the giraffe. Guess which picture the pint-sized version took:

They also checked out the monkeys and lions. Here are some other amusing pictures from the trip:

The two monkeys.

Mikie with his goat friend.

Love, The Trahans

The Fall

So, last weekend, I flew down to Maryland to help my sister pack and move. Katie, in the ultimately ploy to avoid doing any work herself, dislocated her knee before I arrived. And, because she is my sister, and the story makes me laugh, I am going to further humiliate her by posting it here:

It is 5am on Thursday, June 14th. My sister is in the shower, getting ready for the last day of school. She turns off the water, reaches for a towel, and slips, knocking her right knee into the side of the tub. Immediately, she knows she dislocated it. . . partly because she had dislocated her left knee two weeks before my wedding. . . and partly because it was rotated 90 degrees from where it should have been. First thought, call 911.

So, she crawls down the hall to the bedroom to get her cell phone. Unfortunately, as she talks to the operator, she realizes that the apartment door is locked (deadbolt and all). The operator informs her that if she cannot unlock the door, they will have to break it down. My sister calls Fabrice, hoping he can meet them at the door and unlock it, but he is an hour away. Fabrice calls his cousin, Basil (pronounced Bah-zeel), who lives in the same apartment complex and has a spare key. The only problem is, my sister had the locks changed a month ago, and forgot to give Basil a new key.

Shortly after hanging up with 911, the fire department bangs down the door. And in runs Basil and two firefighters, to find my sister, laying soaking wet, and naked (except for a towel) on the bed. Basil gives her a shirt, but she can't get anything over her knee without causing excruciating pain. So, naked from the waist down, they roll her onto a back board, and begin carrying her out of the apartment.

Evidently, trouble ensued as the two firemen holding her head were rather large (read: drank too much beer at the firehouse). My sister's hallway is about 2-3 feet wide, and turns 90 degrees at one point. So, my sister heard the following conversation as they tried to carry her out of her bedroom:

Fireman #1: "Should we be the ones in here?"

Fireman #2: "Why not?"

Fireman #1: "Well, that hallway is kind of narrow. Do you think we will get stuck?"

Fireman #2: "We'll just suck it in."

At which point, my sister started laughing so hard, she was shaking (which only hurt her knee more).

In addition to "sucking it in", they had to strategically lower her head and raise her feet to an almost vertical position in order to navigate the turns down the hall.

Upon arriving to the ER, still naked from the waist down, she had X-rays. The orderly, not knowing she was naked, kept trying to move her towel.

Finally, she was discharged, knee popped back into place, and equipped with crutches. Basil had the foresight to bring her underwear and clothes, but forgot socks and shoes. So, the hospital gave her a pair of socks to leave in. Because, when you have little enough traction with crutches, you want to wear socks on a slippery floor.

When she arrived back at her apartment, she found the door hanging open. It was mishapen from the force of the fire company. The deadbolt was broken off in the lock, and the door frame was broken. Amazingly, no one had robbed her while she was gone. I had to call a locksmith to come to her apartment before I flew down there so that we weren't sleeping in an unsecure building (she didn't live in the best neighborhood).

I told her for Christmas I am going to get her one of those medic alert necklaces (the one's with the lady that cries "I've fallen, and I can't get up). I am also going to install a phone in her bathroom, and leave an emergency kit of clothes on her toilet to avoid future naked trips to the hospital. On the plus side, I told her she could have picked up a new husband. Of course, given her luck that day, it most likely would have been some toothless orderly with a record, not a doctor.

Love, The Trahans

"Squirt Me With the Hose"

After Arcangelo's party, his big sister, Jalysa, and her friends decided to cool off by squirting each other with the hose. Mikie, ever the lover of water, begged Mike and I to squirt him with the hose too. Since we had a spare change of clothes, we took off his shoes and turned him loose.

Within minutes, he was running through the front yard, squealing with delight, soaked from head to toe. The most amusing part was that he thought he was as cool as his cousin Jalysa. Between screams (from both him and the three girls), you could hear him yelling "Come on, guys" and "Squirt me, Di Di".

Eventually, we needed to take off his shorts because every time he ran, they fell off his behind.
Nice butt!

Unfortunately, when I picked him up from daycare on Tuesday, I realized that we taught Mikie a bad habit. His sneakers and clothes were saturated with water. When I asked the teacher what happened, she told me that she started filling the wading pool for water play, but Mikie kept running in front of the hose yelling "Squirt Me With the Hose!"

His sneakers dried out two days later, but the lights in the one shoe are now permanently lit.

Love,
The Trahans

Happy Birthday, Arcangelo!

So, this weekend, Arcangelo turned one year old. We went down to Providence for the party. Here are some of the pictures:

Mikie and Arcangelo go for a ride in the wagon.

"Cake, cake, cake. . . " Aunt Arlene made two delicious cakes shaped like our favorite fuzzy monster, Elmo.

Arcangelo didn't care for cake; but, ever the gracious host, he sat contentedly watching the rest of us enjoy it. In contrast, Mikie bypassed lunch and ran around so that he had room for a bigger piece of cake.

Arcangelo enjoyed opening his presents. . .

and especially enjoyed reading his cards. I wish some of his manners rubbed of on his older cousin.

Tired from the excitement of turning a year, he kicked back to snuggle with Uncle Mike.

Happy Birthday, Arcangelo!

Love, The Trahans

Bathroom Humor

Somehow, my most amusing Mikie anecdotes seem to center around our attempts to use the potty.

For example, there was our trip to Olive Garden for dinner where I took Mikie to use the restroom. Only when I passed the row of urinals on the way to the stall did I realize I walked right into the men's room (the male voices didn't tip me off). After making our escape to the women's room, I fell on the floor of the stall laughing. Mikie didn't quite understand what was so funny.

Recently, we have started rewarding Mikie for using the potty by giving him baseball or hockey cards. Being two, he thinks this is really cool. . . like having a real baseball or hockey player. And, it is much cheaper than buying him ice cream or a toy. We were out one day looking at new cars. While Mike was off trying to convince one sales guy that we really were just looking and had no intention of buying a car, Mikie decided he needed to use the bathroom. Without warning, I saw him stop, and then noticed a tiny trickle dripping down his leg. I quickly ran him to the bathroom, before he could leave a puddle. When I was done changing him, I told him to wait so I could use the potty. While he stood there, we had the following conversation:

Mikie: "Did you use the potty, Mom?"

Lauren: "Yes."

Mikie: "Yeah, Mommy. You go pee-pee in the potty."

Mikie: (a few minutes later while I am washing my hands) "You need a hockey player, Mom."

Combined with the serious look on his face, this was one of the funniest things he could have said to me. I could picture myself on a game show. . . Bob Barker saying "Lauren Trahan, you used the potty. Tell her what she's one, Johnny." And the announcer voice saying "Well, Bob, it's a new hockey player!"

Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, I thanked him and ushered him out of the bathroom.

One day, when he is in his twenties (and hopefully, potty trained), I will print these posts for him to laugh at.

Incidentally, he never did give me a card.

Love,
The Trahans

Mini Goofballs

In our effort to keep Mikie entertained (and burn off extra energy before bedtime), we recently took Mikie to the miniature golf course near our house. It has a farm and ice-cream stand and 18-hold mini-golf course, so there is plenty to do.

Mike and I thought we were going to play mini-golf, but Mikie taught us a new sport --- "Mini Goofballs". It is played on a mini-golf course, but is faster paced, like hockey. You hit the ball towards the hole, and run after it, hitting it again while it is still moving. Unlike hockey, there is no goalie, and obviously, no ice. You also don't observe traditional golf etiquette of taking turns; Mikie's turn was whenever he wanted to play. And, repeating a hole is allowed if the other players are taking too long.

As you can see from the pictures, Mikie is a natural. Mike and I never quite mastered it, following the more traditional mini-golf game play. But, we had a great time. And, ever the ham, Mikie amused onlookers with his speed and enthusiasm. I guess watching a two year old run after a golf ball yelling "LET'S PLAY MINI-GOOFBALLS!" is rather entertaining.

And, logically, what do you do after tiring out a toddler with 18-holes of Mini-Goofballs? Feed him ice cream, of course! Amazingly, he still went to bed and slept soundly (God was smiling on us that night!)

Love,

The Trahans