Just finished watching Group 2 of American Idol. Yawn. B-O-R-I-N-G. I was hard-pressed to come up with three. All I had was one for sure vote. My man Norman. He’s really no American Idol, but he needs his own freaking show. A show where I don’t fast-forward through performances just to hear Simon’s critic.

So here was our list. Marc and I are bad with names, so we gave everyone names that we can remember.

Keep:
* Norman- seriously entertaining. I actually wanted to see more.
* Bat Chic- she looks like a bat. At first she was pig-nose girl, but then Marc said “bat” and it was more fitting. She has a cool voice.
* Tatoo Girl- sleeved tattoo. Pretty girl and pretty voice.

Ditch:
* Jonas Cousin- irritating beyond belief and looks like a Jonas Brother knock-off. You should not be allowed to sing, “I can’t get no satisfaction” with a stage smile on. It’s just wrong.
* Oscar Wilde (aka The Knack- his name is really Kai Kalama- say it aloud and you’ll know why we sometimes call him The Knack)- Wild hair and a good voice, but not that good.
* Welder Guy- bald guy who welds. Good for him. Hope he’s really good at welding.
* Red-haired 16-year-old- super cute, but boring.
* Cute MN Girl- super cute, but not that good.
And the four forgetables

Signa has a check-up with the doctor today. It's about 6 months late and we never did get her shots last year. We just forget these things, as she's so healthy. Darn it. She's healthy and strong and even though she is the pickiest eater in the entire universe, she is growing just fine. Her face is so adorable with the missing front tooth. I love looking at her. Sometimes when I look at her beautiful face smiling at me, my brain acts like a movie screen and flashes her at me through the years. All the way from baby to little girl. And I know that I'm biased, but she seems to get more and more beautiful each year- inside and out.

I love how she isn't like other kids and is so much like Marc. She loves movies and isn't afraid of the things "normal" kids are afraid of. We all went to see Coraline, which is a movie that many adults would have been afraid of, in my opinion. But it was among my favorite movies and I nervously looked at Signa at the end and asked her what she thought. "IT WAS THE BEST 3D ANIMATIONS I'VE SEEN IN MY WHOLE LIFE!" She loved it. (as a side note, William enjoyed the popcorn and M&Ms. He then fell asleep and snored through the entire movie.)

And speaking of William...

He is learning to be polite. Or, I should say, we are constantly reminding him to be more polite. He ran up to me the other day, held out a tissue and demanded, "I HAVE A RUNNY NOSE." I looked at him and said, "How do you say that more nicely?"

"MAY I *PLEASE* HAVE A RUNNY NOSE?" Tissue still held out, demandingly.

Really, how do you not laugh and reinforce this?

Gramma spent the night last night and so she had to be subject to all his games. They played the Grandma game, the Winnie the Pooh game, and the card game. All while Marc and Signa went to get a pizza. They came back with a big ball of dough to play with (they give it to kids to shut them up). Signa gave Will a softball-sized ball and Will proceded to subject Gramma to a nice rousing game of Guess Which Hand It's In. So he'd hold out his tiny 2 1/2-year-old sized fists, one empty and one with an enormous piece of dough and make Gramma guess. And you can't tell him anything, so you have to keep guessing, even though the dough is bigger than his hand to his elbow.

But at the table just now at breakfast he said, "May I please have a napkin?" So all is well in the Mascot household.

For now.

I’m pretty sure that I don’t breastfeed any more. William just sort of stopped asking a few weeks ago and I stopped offering. I did ask one night at bed time if he wanted beeboes and he said, “No, I just have yer arm.” So he rubbed my arm and went to sleep.

Last night, though, he asked again. I told him the beeboes didn’t have any milk in them any more. He said, “No mik? How ‘bout water?” I told him that beeboes don’t make water. “How ‘bout juice?” Nope, no juice either, I said.

“Ahhhh,” he said with woe. Then he killed me with the cartoon I've-been-let-down sound of: “WOMP WOMP WOMP WAHHHHH.”