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.”

You don't want to hear the following words from your 2 1/2-year-old when he's alone in the living room:

"That's okay, Daddy! It was an akkident!"

All's well. There was just a spill or something. But the words conjured up many images of many "akkidents".

I can't find it, but once upon a time, I wrote a letter to a snot-nosed freaky unmannered child. It went something like this:

Dear Snot-nosed Freaky Unmannered Child,
I realize that your parents never taught you to be nice or friendly, so it's not your fault, but honestly, it's not Signa's fault either and so I wish I could throw rocks at you. Or at least kick you. In your tiny freaky bitchy shins. Hard. But I am nearly 40 and you are 5, so I'm sure it'd be illegal. Instead I did nothing and then just will hate you forever for saying, "Do we even know you?" to my 3-year-old when she so nicely walked up and introduced herself to you.
Sincerely,
Signa's Momma

On Friday, we had another such incident. Some snot-nosed, freaky, unmannered child was so rude to Signa that Signa just sat there smiling not even knowing it was mean. "Why do you smile so much? It seems like you don't even know how not to smile" were said in a mean way, not a cheerful way and I just had to jump in. I told her that Signa smiles because she is happy and doesn't stop because she's still happy, even though she has to sit next to kids who don't play well with others and don't know how to smile on such a beautiful day.

Luckily, Marc already had known this kid was an issue an had already commented to her how we had met her at another park before but (quote) "Yeah, you were a lot cooler then." I'd said, "Marc!" under my breath admonishing him for it, but then she was mean to Signa and I just wanted to throw sand in her bitchy "socialized" face. But Marc had seen it coming. I'm proud that my kids introduce themselves, jump in and play, and share. I'm not sad that they smile "too much". Isn't smiling a good thing?

Bitchy little 6-year-old, you ruined my freaking park day with my kids. When you grow up to be president of something, I'm so coming after you. You owe me a day at the park.

It's time to play Marc's favorite game! The Morning Game! Here's how you play... Take 2 children, ages 6 and 2 and decide what they are having for breakfast. Porridge, you say (Cream of Wheat, but they won't eat anything with the word, "wheat" so you always call it "porridge"--- like the bears). So here's the game.

Decide if you make one packet each or two. If you make two, they only eat one bite each and then are done and you waste a packet and a half each (so three packets). If you make one each, they will want more and have ants in their pants for the 1 minute and 30 seconds that it takes to quickly make the next packet and then they will decide that their Sitting Still quota has been all used up and don't want to eat.

I know what you are thinking- outsmart them and make three packets. Hold one in reserve and when they finish the first and start the tantrum- BAM! Split it between them. Yeah, good plan, but it doesn't work. They will either take the route of wasting all of it entirely OR they will not want to split it and the day will begin in tantrums. "MINE!" "NO, MINE!" "Will got more than I did." "Dister more Will!" Irritating.

The other fun game that sometimes, though, thankfully rarely comes after the Morning Game is the Bath Game. This doesn't need to be described entirely, but involves the following ingredients: William, a bathtub, lots of bleach and the crying words, "Oh no! I poop in the tub!!!" Not really in that order.

We had a wonderful Christmas party with the Mascot family over the weekend, where the kids learned to be spoiled rotten by Nana, Papa and Cousins and Aunties. Today we have the Spencer Christmas party at Gramma's house and then tomorrow... well, let's just say that even if Santa doesn't come, the kids still have it made.

One of the best gifts ever came last week and I'm so looking forward to sharing it tomorrow. Greg and Sheri sent CHICAGO PIZZA! It is a great gift because it's delicious, memorable, delicious, sentimental, and delicious. I'll also make the usual Mascot Christmas Chili, but the pizza is the best part of tomorrow (and Santa).

I hope everyone has a wonderful and safe Christmas!

Last night Tori came and babysat while we went to a Christmas party (where Marc was coerced into wearing an inflatable Santa suit while brandishing a bottle of wine- without even having consumed the wine). Anyway, while Tori was here, Signa made her Santa letter. She wanted it ready for today- Breakfast with Santa Day.

It had been my plan to use the power of suggestion when she asked Santa for gifts. Using my Jedi mind control, she was to say, “Dear Santa, I would love to have Legos for Christmas and not some stupid giant dinosaur.” However, since I was not close enough to use the mind control, here is her list:

Koda
Webkinz camel
Maggot

Love,
Signa

So Koda is a giant dinosaur that you ride on, much larger than the other giant dinosaur that I thought the kids wanted. Santa, if you bring Koda, I will send hate mail to you all year. Webkinz camel- go for it.

A FREAKING MAGGOT?!?! Seriously, my six-year-old daughter wants a maggot for Christmas. Oh, and not just any maggot, but a crawling toy maggot that was at Target TWO HALLOWEENS AGO. Santa, if you bring this (I can’t find it cheaper that 20 pounds in England with a shipping fee of 80 billion pounds), then I will send you love notes all year. And really not because it would make Signa happy but because then I would get to remind for the rest of her life that Santa came through and got her a maggot for Christmas when she was a child.

Here is the letter, in case you don't believe me. I made her add Legos.

William was cribbed to say, “Indiana Jones figures.” But last week, he changed it up and said he wants a candy cane. Look at your hands. Look at the left hand and say, “Candy cane.” Now look at your right hand and say, “Maggot.” Which one is super cute?

Yeah, it’s pretty even.

Anyway, breakfast with Santa was fine. Especially since Will waited to get home before vomiting profusely from both ends. Thank you, dear William, for not doing that on Santa in front of an auditorium of people. I will personally buy you TWO candy canes for that.

But I’m charging you three for the dry cleaning that my wardrobe from today is going to need.

In other cute stories, William is in love with Christmas cookies (sugar cookies with frosting) and the cutest part of it is how he says it. “Kitmas cookies.” Kitmas is just my favorite.

Today Signa was watching something about this family that hatched baby chicks from eggs. She came running in to where I was getting changed from Vomit Attire and said, “So they put the eggs in an imbitator. What’s an imbitator?” I explained the idea of an incubator keeping them warm and getting the eggs ready to hatch. “Well, that’s dumb. Why didn’t they just bring home a chicken to sit on the eggs?”

Yeah. Why?