Mikie-isms

When my child became such a smart alec, I don't know. He must get it from his father.

Mikie came out of the bathroom this evening, and I knew he hadn't flushed the toilet or washed his hands. I told him to turn around, go back into the bathroom, and wash his hands. Obviously, I must have been speaking in toungues, because Mikie didn't listen (what else is new). So, I pulled the ultimate threat: you have until the count of five to go back and wash your hands or you're going to bed right now. Usually, this works. This time, Mikie turned with a smirk on his face and yelled "One Two Three Four Five!"

After taking a minute to compose myself (I was trying not to laugh hysterically), I started counting. As soon as I said one, Mikie did run to the bathroom and wash his hands. Of course, when I went in to use the bathroom later, I found the seat up and the toilet bowl full of urine. I guess it was my own fault, since I didn't instruct him to flush the toilet or close the seat. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

As if that wasn't funny enough, Mikie came up with a new reason not to go to sleep tonight. Mike had put him to bed, and 30 minutes later, I heard a door open. I went to the bottom of the stairs, and heard a little voice, sitting at the top of the stairs say "Hi, mom". When I got upstairs, Mikie looked up at me and said "Mom, I can't sleep." Before I could ask why, he said "If I keep sleeping all the time, I will turn into a bed." He should write a book of all the bedtime excuses he has come up with.

After explaining that your body needs sleep to build muscles and brain cells, he told me he wanted to sleep so he could be strong like a real hockey player. I am sure that won't work ever again, but at least he went to sleep tonight.

I can't wait to see what he comes up with tomorrow. . .

Love, The Trahans

The Favorite Toy

This weekend is Mikie's friend, Connor's, birthday party. Mike, being a male, insisted on doing the shopping because he "knows boys" better than I do. Forget the fact that I work with Connor's dad, talk with Connor's mom most mornings at daycare, and see Connor when I drop Mikie off in the morning. Not to mention I did give birth to a boy. None of this qualifies me for shopping for little boys.

So, Mike purchased two Transformers. Mikie was asleep when the shopping trip occurred, so he did not see what we bought. And, knowing that he likes Transformers (and most action figures), we didn't bother telling him what we bought.

Fast forward to this morning. I was trying to convince Mikie into putting on his jacket and leaving for school with me. He told me he had a new toy that was his favorite that he wanted to bring to school. The conversation continued like this:

Mikie: "Mom, I'm going to bring my new favorite toy to school because it's my favorite."

Mom: "What is it?"

Mikie: "It's my favorite 'cause its the best"

Mom: "Where is it so we can get it and leave for school."

Mikie: "It's my red Transformer."

Now, I am confused, because I know of only two Transformers that we own: a black one, and a cement mixer that Mike found from when he was a kid that, as far as I can tell, is not red. And so the conversation continues:

Mom: "You don't have a red Transformer."

Mikie: "Yes I do."

Mom: "Where is it?"

Mikie: "It's my red Transformer Car in your closet."

Okay, it's 7:30 in the morning, and my brain isn't completely awake. But, after a few seconds, I realize that he is talking about the birthday present for Connor that is hidden in my closet.

Mom: "Mikie, those aren't your cars. We bought those for Connor's birthday party. (Quickly realizing this could spoil any surprise. . . ) And it's a SURPRISE so you CAN'T tell him."

Mikie: whining "But I want them."

Somehow, I got his coat on him and forced him out the door. There may have been some vague promise about getting him a Transformer on another day. To which he responded, "Then I will have TWO red Transformer cars."

Note to self: put a keyed lock on the attic door before Christmas.

Love, The Trahans

SUGAR!!!!!

Different states have different festivities they are known for. In DC, April is the month of the Cherry Blossoms. In Massachusetts, March is Sugaring month.

Sugaring is the process of collecting and making maple syrup. And, after going to a sugar house this weekend, I have a renewed sense of appreciation for maple syrup.

To create maple syrup, you start with a maple tree. Evidently, you can use any maple tree, not just a sugar maple. At night, when the temperature drops, the sap freezes inside the trunk of the tree. During the day when the temperatures rise, the sap condenses and creates a presure inside the tree. If you tap the maple tree, you can collect the sap and use it to make maple syrup, and other yummy maple confections.

Sounds easy enough. But, it is the most labor intensive process. First of all, the sap doesn't exactly "flow" out of the tree. I would describe it as a faucet that has a slow drip when it is in the off position. Plus, because harvesting it is so temperature dependent, there are only about 4 weeks when you can harvest the sap. And, 100 gallons of sap only yields about 2 gallons of syrup!

The tour was very entertaining, even without Mikie's antics. The video included clips of adults and kids who run sugar houses. The first woman on the clip announced "Massachusetts is THE place for maple syrup. I mean, I know Vermont and New Hampshire make it too, but when I think of syrup, I think of Massachusetts." Ironic, since Vermont is the number one producer of maple syrup in the US with 250,000 gallons, followed by New York. Massachusetts produces less than 100,000 gallons annually. There were also some young men (12 going on 40) who produce about 2 gallons of maple syrup each season, but have long term plans to "take a few years off to relax, and then open some more sugar houses when they hit 20 or 30."

While the adults in the group (Mike, myself, and our friends, Josh & Kristin) enjoyed the tour and explanations of the process, Mikie was less enthusiastic. Before the 18 minute video, Mikie raised his hand to tell the guide that he saw flies in the barn window. At the end of the video, he told the same guide that he wanted popcorn (which was even more amusing since he had never eaten popcorn before). We convinced him to continue on the tour with us with the promise of maple sugar candy at the end.

In the next stage, where we learned how to drill and tap a tree. Mikie was more interested in the ladybug he found on the floor. He kept pointing to the ladybug, before finally determining (and announcing loudly enough for the whole room to hear) "This ladybug is DEAD, Mom."

Finally, we got to the kid friendly part, the tapping of the tree. Mikie was thrilled to join the bigger kids and use the hand drill. And, he was very careful to use the hammer to hit the tap, not the man holding it in place. He was even careful carrying his bucket of sap to the sugar house. However, after dumping the sap into the main tank of the sugar house, he was officially done with the tour. He put his bucket on his head, which left him a bit sugar coated. By the time we finished and were offered our maple sugar confections, Mikie announced that he wanted chocolate instead.

We left with some sugaring supplies: a tap and a helmet for Mikie, which doubles as a bucket to collect sap in when Mikie is willing to part with it.

The moral of the story: if you're three, maple syrup is better enjoyed at home on pancakes than in the woods.

Love, The Trahans

Life as a Hockey Mom

We have been taking Mikie ice skating for a while now. He is actually on his second pair of ice skates (although, it is purely because his feet grow too fast, not because he wore them out). After only a few time on the ice, we are able to loosely hold one hand and skate beside him while he walks in his skates. His biggest desire: to play hockey like a real hockey player, on ice skates, with a stick. And, while they do offer an intro to ice hockey class for kids three and up, you have to complete one of the learn to skate classes first.

How could I deny a three year old's dream? I couldn't. So, I searched every ice skating rink in the states of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island until I found the ONE and only rink that offered the learn to skate class for three year olds on the weekend (evidently, most hockey moms do not work and can take their kids ice skating at 11am on a Tuesday).

Luckily for Mike and I, the rink is only 45 minutes away. And, since they had a 10am class, we only have to wake up by 7:30am to get ready and get to class in time. Barring snow storms.

The first weekend, Mike got up, cleared the driveway of about a foot of snow, and we drove to class. Unfortunately, we got there only to find out that class didn't start until the following Saturday (something which should have been clarified in the registration paperwork).

The second weekend, Mike got up, cleared TWO driveways (ours and our neighbor who's husband was out of town and had just had surgery on her hand) of about six inches of snow. We drove to class in horrendous conditions (it was still snowing and the plows really weren't running yet) for a 25 minute lesson. If that isn't dedication, I don't know what is.

The class is quite entertaining. The first lesson was quite a challenge. The teacher made all the kids sit on the ice. Then, they had to sit on their knees. From there, they all put one leg up, and pushed off the ice into a standing position. If you're three, listening and following directions are challenging enough. Because he couldn't get himself back up, Mikie grabbed the teacher's hand for a lift. Unfortunately, once he had it, he was slow to let go.
By the end of the second lesson, Mikie managed to push himself up after falling, and took steps unassisted on the ice.

The verdict is still out if the 25 minutes of ice time is worth the money and the mileage. Hopefully, seeing his face when he gets out on the ice with a hockey stick will make it all worth while.

Love, The Trahans

The Distinguished Gentleman

Lately, Mikie has been obsessed with Scooby Doo. We have some Scooby Doo books. We make up pretend Scooby Doo adventures to solve the mystery. We have a Scooby Doo video game for our V-Smile. And, of course, we have some Scooby Doo movies.

When I picked up Mikie on Friday afternoon, he had been sharing his Scooby Doo book, and telling everyone that they could come to his house to watch his Scooby Doo movie. Before I left, his teacher came over to tell me an amusing Mikie anecdote. Evidently, Mikie told Ms. Kelly that she could drive home with him and watch Scooby Doo on the TVs in his car. She said thank you, but asked him how she was going to get back to her house if she drove home with him. His answer, "You can walk."

Knight in shining armour he is not.

Love, The Trahans

March Snow

Evidently, March snow is much better than other snow. We got about 8 inches on March 1st. After returning from Mikie's first ice skating lesson, Mike and Mikie decided to build a snowman. Since losing a boot in the two-foot snowstorm we had in December, Mikie has not been keen to do anything other than eat snow. So, I didn't expect them to be outside long. However, after finishing Frosty, Mikie decided that he wanted to go sledding. And, the sled run looked so much fun, Mike and I took turns sledding too. Click on the photo below to see some of the video:

Here is a picture of Mike and Mikie with Frosty. Without any carrots or coal on hand, we had to improvise, using a piece of candy cane for the nose and chocolate pieces for the eyes. If you click on the photo, you can view some video of the "construction".

While I admired their work, Mikie came over to tell me "the secret".

Mikie: "Mom, I have a secret, but you can't tell the snowman. He's going to melt."

He did last for a week, before the snow started to melt. Although, evidently other animals than Mikie like chocolate and candy canes, because the snowman was missing his eyes and nose by the next evening.

Happy sledding.

Love, The Trahans

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

And the Oscar Goes To . . .

Michael Christopher Trahan, for his role in "Bedtime".

We had promised Mikie he could stay up and watch the football players and Tom Brady (whom he says is the Greatest Football Player, when he isn't arguing that he plays for the Red Sox). By the end of the 1st quarter, I could not deal with the jumping off the furniture, stealing of my pillows and blankets, and overall insanity that comes with an overly tired three year old. And, since Mike (who has more patience than I and who usually oversees bedtime) would not be pulled away from the TV before half-time, I went to put Mikie to bed.

Of course, the words "Let's go brush your teeth" were like a death sentence, and I had to force Mike to carry the child upstairs during a commercial break. Somehow, during the ordeal, Mikie managed to kick off his pajama pants and underwear. Feeling confident that I could "handle" the situation, I told Mike to go watch the game. Ha ha. After letting him roll around naked for a few minutes, I forced him back into his underwear and pajamas. This only seemed to enrage him more. In a fit, Mikie told me he was "not going to play with me anymore!" I can hold a grudge better than anyone, so far be it from me to let a three year old upstage me. I told him "Fine. Goodnight." and turned and left the room. Here are some of the things you could hear being yelled through the door of his bedroom:

"I AM GOING TO THROW ALL MY CHANCES IN THE GARBAGE FOR THE DAMAGE YOU HAVE DONE TO ME!"

"I AM NOT GOING TO BE YOUR FRIEND ANYMORE!"

"I AM GOING TO PLAY BY MYSELF."

"I AM GOING TO WATCH SCOOBY DOO ALL BY MYSELF."

"MOMMY, YOU ARE GOING TO JAIL. THE POLICEMEN ARE GOING TO TAKE YOU AWAY FOR ALL THE DAMAGE YOU HAVE DONE TO ME!"

I don't know if it was half-time, or if Mikie's yelling was interfering with Mike's enjoyment of the game, because at some point during this tirade, Mike came back upstairs. Ever the grown-up, I was laughing in my bedroom, trying to commit to memory some of the more amusing statements, wishing the camcorder wasn't broken. Immediately after he entered the room, Mikie told Mike:

"You're my best friend, Daddy. You and I can watch Scooby Doo with me but not mommy 'cause Mommy was mean to me. Mommy is going to jail for all the damage she has done to me."

Just for the record, the next morning, he wanted me to get up and get him milk and make him pancakes for breakfast and watch "Super Why" with him. When I asked him if we were friends again, he said "Yeah. You're my best friend, Mommy." So, either he needs to work on his grudge holding capabilities, or he is using me for my ability to reach the maple syrup.

I don't know where he picks up these phrases. If only I had the camcorder, I could have at least won some money on "America's Funniest Home Videos" or "Kids Say the Darndest Things".

Love,
The Trahans

Top 3 Funniest Mikie Stories

In honor of the New Year (and late night TV being back on air), I figured I would do my own countdown. Here it it: The Top Three Unblogged Mikie Stories of 2007.

#3: Champion Hot Dog Eater

Mikie loves to eat at Friendly's. Every time we go, he orders a hotdog with ketchup and mustard. And, assuming he eats all the hotdog, he orders a "Chocolate Monster Ice Cream" for dessert. Over the Christmas holiday, we decided to go out to Friendly's for lunch, and then go bowling. Mikie finished half of his hotdog and told us he wanted to leave, that he wasn't hungry. We told him he wouldn't get any ice cream, but he didn't seem to care. So, when the waitress came over, we told her we would take the ice cream to go. We told Mikie if he ate all his dinner later, he could have the ice cream.

All of the sudden, it dawned on him that we really weren't going to give him his ice cream. In less than a second, four pieces of hotdog were shoved in his mouth, with two more in his hands ready to be shoved in.

Since he devoured the hotdog in less time than the waitress took to walk back to the kitchen, we were able to get Mikie's ice cream. Evidently, if he wants a career eating hotdogs, all you need to pay him with is Friendly's ice cream.

#2: Peeing at Panera

We had stopped at Panera Bread for dinner before going to a Christmas party at our friends' house. Mike tried to take Mikie to use the bathroom while I stood in line to order our food. Evidently, Mikie did not have to go, so they sat at a booth with their drinks while I waited for the food. As I walked over with the first of our trays, I noticed Mike was frantically trying to get my attention.

Mike: "Hurry up, you have to go get your son."

Lauren: "Where is he?"

Mike: "He just walked into the women's bathroom."

I ran into the bathroom to find Mikie checking all the empty stalls. I asked him if he had to use the potty, if not, he shouldn't be in there. As I lectured him, he walked into a stall, pulled down his pants, and started peeing (stall door wide open, cheeks bared for the world to see). We washed our hands and left.

When we returend to the table, I threw Mike a "Why didn't you take him into the men's room" look. He told me, "We were sitting here, waiting for you. All of the sudden, Mikie tells me 'Watch my drink, Dad.' Before I could react, he got up and walked into the women's bathroom."

#1: Mikie, The Dog Lover

We went over to our friends' house for Matt's 30th birthday. They have two dogs, Fergie and Franklin. Franklin was the most behaved dog ever, and seemed content to follow Mikie every where he ran. Click on the picture below to see some footage:

What we didn't realize was Franklin had an ulterior motive: when Mikie stopped moving (which was infrequent), Franklin tried to hump him.

At one point in the party, Mikie was tired from running and dramatically threw himself down on the floor in exhaustion. Franklin jumped at the opportunity and started humping Mikie's head! I was laughing so hard, I couldn't even make it over to help him. Mike rescued him, instructing him to stay on his feet. Mikie, completely unphased (he was laughing the whole time) took off running like nothing had happened, calling for Franklin to follow him.

Here's to many more laughs in 2008!

Love, The Trahans

Christmas Morning

Unlike last year, we managed to go to bed a little earlier (although, still after midnight) and slept in later. So, Mikie woke up ready to enjoy Christmas.

To list some of the gifts that he found under the tree, Mikie received:

A REAL hockey helmet from Grandma Pookie, to go with the RPI hockey jersey and hockey skates from Santa.

A birdfeeder with bird watching book from Grandma Kerrie and Grumpy Norm. Mikie is super excited to use this one. It is one of those squirrel-proof bird feeders with a cage to prevent squirrels from eating all the bird seed. Mikie doesn't quite understand that, so he keeps talking about catching the birds to keep in his cage.

Whack-a-Mole (aka "The Gopher Game") from Gram. This has proved a favorite of Mike's too, as he now holds the fastest record at 10 seconds.

Video games for his V-Smile from Grand Da. Evidently, Grand Da picks out better games than Mom and Dad, because Mikie refused to use the thing until he got his new games. One of them is an interactive story book that connects to the TV. The day after Christmas, you could hear him say "I can't go to bed, I have to read my books". What are you supposed to say to that? No more reading, go to bed!?!

And, the most anticipated present of all. . . Santa came through with Sock 'em Sock 'em Robots (or Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots as they are known to the rest of the world). Click on the picture below to view some video footage of Mikie and Mike playing his new favorite game. Since Mattel was kind enough to cheapen up the "improved" version, I edited the video down to a little over a minute so no one other than Mike had to live the eternity of playing.

Hope Santa brought you everything on your Christmas list.

Merry Christmas.

Love, The Trahans

The Christmas Story

Now that he is three, I have been trying to teach Mikie about the real story of Christmas: how Jesus was born. So far, attempts to read his children's Bible have been futile. The pictures are cartoonish and the stories don't seem to hold his interest. Usually, part way through, he starts running around yelling "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus", and I have to explain that we shouldn't just yell His name like we yell "Meatloaf".

So, I bought a pop-up book with beautiful illustrations just for Christmas. We have been reading it a few nights a week, emphasizing that it is a special story. Unfortunately, there are many words that he didn't quite understand, so I read the story in a more Mikie-friendly context. For example, "Hail, Mary" became "Hello, Mary" and "with child" became "going to have a baby".

So, on Christmas Eve, with pop-up book in hand, we headed off to meet our friends at their church's Christmas Eve Service. It was the children's service, and I thought it would be more Mikie friendly. As we waited for the service to start, Mikie sat on Auntie Katie's lap reading his special story. All of the sudden I hear a familiar voice announce "Look, Katie. This man says 'There's no room in the hotel!'" At least the story made an impression.

Before the service began, a woman came to the front to read some announcements. She started talking about the gifts people brought to the baby Jesus, and ended by talking about what gifts we could give Him today. Her intention was to plead for donations. However, Mikie heard "gifts" and told Auntie Katie, "Katie, I could give the baby Jesus 'Sock 'em Sock 'em Robots'." Being the one gift Mikie asked Santa for on THREE separate occasions, I am sure this is the only gift he could imagine anyone ever wanting.

Of course, a few days later, when I reminded him of what he said and asked if he was going to give Jesus his game, he looked at me like I was crazy.

It's the thought that counts, right?

Merry Christmas.

Love, The Trahans

Public Indecency

Let me start by saying that Mikie has been doing a great job of using the potty. So well, that, unless I see him doing a funny dance while watching TV, I don't bother harrassing him. So well that I frequently realize he left the room and used the potty only after I hear a flushing sound.

So, when Mikie told me that he didn't need to use the potty before we left the house for work, I didn't question him. Unfortunately, about 15 minutes from our house (at least 30 minutes from daycare), I heard a little voice saying, "Mom, I have to go pee-pee on the road." I have Mike to thank for teaching Mikie about going pee-pee on the road, but that's a whole other story.

It's December, we have had record amounts of snow which sits like a small mountain on either side of the one-lane road. Short of pulling in to someone's driveway, there is no good rest stop along this stretch of road. So, I drive as fast as I safely can (translation: as fast as the guy in front of me will travel) five minutes up the road to Home Depot.

As I raced into the parking lot, praying that Mikie wasn't peeing on my leather seats, I realized that Home Depot was open. Wonderful. We could use the bathroom like civilized people, rather than pee in the parking lot. So, I pull up as close as I can get to the front entrance. Unfortunately, Mikie had other plans. As I unbuckle his seat belt and inform him of my intention to use the bathroom, he yells, "No, I have to go pee pee NOW!" No sooner did I plant his feet on the ground than I see two bare cheeks facing me.

Even though he can urinate standing up (inside and "on the road"), Mikie has not even attempted "aiming" himself. Being that I was dressed for work (slacks, nice shoes, wool winter coat), and did not want to have to change his pants and underwear in the 16 degree weather, I felt it was in my best interest to help him direct his stream away from the two of us. Standing behind him and using the car door to block him to some degree, I helped Mikie melt the snow under the car. Only after I pulled his pants up did I notice two men get in their cars next to me.

And as if being caught in the act wasn't bad enough, I noticed the following signs as I got back in the driver's seat:
So, next time you are watching YouTube, if you see a 30-year old red-head helping her son urinate in the Home Depot parking lot, please remember that one day that could be you before you forward it on to your friends.

Love, the Trahans

College Bound

Obviously, he does not get this from me, having been the model student in college.

In early December, we went to our friends' Holiday party. What makes the story even funnier is that Andy & Jenny work and live at a retirement home, so the party was in one of the common rooms at the home.

Part way through the evening, Mikie told me he had to use the potty. As per usual, he waited to the last minute to tell me, and the bathroom was already occupied. He did an excellent job of holding his bladder, and managed to only get a tiny drop in his underpants before we got into the bathroom. However, being fanatical about certain aspects of cleanliness, he insisted on a new pair of underwear. Mike went out to the car to get the new underwear, but, in the interim, Mikie wanted to go back to the party. So, I put his pajamas on him, sans underwear, and let him go back to the party, figuring that when Mike returned we would put the clean underwear on.

Unfortunately, Mikie realized that it was kind of nice to not wear any underpants. And, when Mike returned, he refused to put them on.

Twenty minutes later, Mikie was seen running around with an empty case of beer on his head (picture Animal House except substitute a Sam Adams box for the lampshade). As everyone laughed at the cute little boy running around in PJs with a beer box on his head, all I could think was what a proud moment this was for me as a mom: my three year old going commando, running around like a drunk person with a beer box on his head.

Too bad I didn't have the camera.

Love, The Trahans

The Elevator Ride

I am very behind in my blogs, and before I start blogging some of our Christmas experiences, figured I should post some of the more humorous Mikie adventures before I forget them. Last month, we took Mikie to see a Providence Bruins game. We figured it was cheaper than paying for tickets to see the Boston Bruins, and he probably wouldn't know the difference.

When I was given the tickets (they were from a vendor), she said she got them for a 1:00 game, figuring that a 7:00 game would be late for a three year old. Unfortunately, I never looked at the tickets. So, at 12:30, we were sitting in our seats, waiting for the 4:00 game to start.

Rather than sit in a cold arena for 3 1/2 hours, we walked around the corner to Providence Place Mall to eat some lunch and kill time. If you haven't been to the Providence Place Mall, street level is three levels below the actual mall stores. So, we went inside and got on the first of three escalators.

No sooner had we all gotten on, when Mikie turns and announces, "This is a Dickless ride, Mom & Dad." I was stunned, and asked what he just said. Of course, he didn't repeat himself until we got on the second escalator. He turned again and said "This ride is Dickless, Mom." At this point, I was sure I heard him correctly, and in my confusion was trying to keep from laughing in his face.

When we got on the third escalator, I finally realized he was actually saying "This ride is RIDICULOUS" minus a few sylables.

He always keeps me on my toes, that's for sure.

Love,
The Trahans

Disney World

For Mikie's third birthday, we thought it would be fun to go to Disney World. In reality, it was our five year wedding anniversary and we wanted to go somewhere on vacation. And, what better place than Disney World is there to go on a family vacation?

We survived the flight down with only minor issues. I may have threatened to throw Mikie from the plane if he didn't put his seat belt back on when it was nearing time to land. Thankfully, the majority of people on the flight were families with children (go figure, a Thursday morning flight to Orlando) so I managed to avoid the dirty looks from old men in suits. And, some helpful mother offered me a lolly pop. Actually, I think she intended it as a pacifier for Mikie, but since he didn't want it, I figured I shouldn't let it go to waste.

We paid extra to have our luggage delivered to the hotel directly from the airport. This is key when traveling with a 3 year old. Any amount of money you can pay to avoid the conveyor at baggage claim is worth it. No need to worry about him sitting on it or getting his fingers caught in it. No listening to the drone of "Mommy, is that our bag? Is that our bag? Is that our bag? Where's our bag, Mommy?" We brought our bathing suits in our carry on, and headed straight for the hotel pool to relax.
Some of you might be thinking, who goes to Disney World to hang out at the pool? After all the money you spent, you should be at the parks. These people would be the same people who either don't have kids or haven't taken them to Disney World. Mikie had no idea at this point that the pool wasn't the vacation destination. In fairness, we could have taken him to any hotel with a swimming pool, and he would have come home raving that it was the best vacation ever.

Later that evening, we ventured over to the Magic Kingdom to give Mikie a real taste of Disney World. I wanted to get some mouse ears, and figured we could catch the Light Parade and fireworks. As evidence by the picture below, Mikie was beside himself at seeing Mikie and Goofy in the light parade:Shortly thereafter, a float with the hippos from "Fantasia" came by (you know, the pink ones in tutus). Mikie turned from elated to petrified. Maybe he thought she was going to crush the crocodile (he likes alligators and crocodiles). So, we left part way through the festivities.

Thankfully, his phobia of hippos did not seem to affect his sleep. He slept like a child who ran around Disney World all day and was full of energy come Friday morning.

Love, The Trahans

Mickey Mouse's House

I need to start out this post by apologizing to my Aunt Maureen. When I was 12, my sister and I flew to California to visit my Aunt Maureen, Uncle Jimmy, and cousins James and Krista who were 6 and 3 respectively. They lived near Disney Land, and, since Katie and I had never been to any Disney park, Aunt Maureen and Uncle Jim took us all for the day.

Sometime in the early afternoon, we were forced to leave the park and drive back to the house to TAKE A NAP. When Katie and I told her we didn't take naps anymore, she told us to lay down anyway. Uncle Jimmy took us back to the park later until it closed at 1am to make up for the precious time we wasted napping. However, for the last 18 years, I have harassed her about this trip, because, what 12 year old leaves Disney Land during their first trip to take a nap?

Until last month, when Mike and I took our 3 year old to Disney World. And, I realized that while Mikie insisted he was not tired, I was exhausted. Disney World is sensory overload on a good day. Imagine trying to take in the sites while running after a 3 year old. Mike and I were physically and emotionally exhausted by the end of each day. By the end of the second day, after I swore that I could never leave my child with a perfect stranger, I broke down and hired a babysitter. On our final night there, we paid $14/hour + tip + food for a perfect stranger to watch our child while we went out to dinner. It was the most expensive date ever (cost of trip to Disney, including airfare, hotel, and park admission + cost of dinner at fancy restaurant + cost of babysitter) but was the most restful time of our stay there.

So, to Aunt Maureen, I extend my sincerest apologies. I now understand that YOU needed the nap and, with all these readers as witnesses, I vow never to make fun of you again.

More mouse blogs to follow. But, for now, I'm off to bed.

Love, The Trahans

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