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?

William has been particularly humorous lately. The other night when we were in bed, he was tossing and turning and talking and messing around. I was getting increasingly irritated with him and then he said, “Momma, you very, very pritty.” I said, “Ahhhh,” told him that was nice of him and he said, “And Willyum Macot cool!”

He is very into seeing two “O”s next to each other. “Yook! Two ‘O’s!” everywhere we go.

Nothing yet everything has been going on. Nothing much to write about, but enough so that we are too busy to write. Will is getting cuter and cuter by the day, but also more and more stubborn and “independent.” He wants to do everything by himself (“No, help! I do it myself!”) and he wants to do everything his sister does (“No, Wull do it, too!”). Oh, and just about every sentence starts with, “No.”

He has taken to enjoying any and all small injuries and frequently tells us, “I have to go to the doctor.” He hasn’t completely mastered telling us what he wants, but he does tell us what he likes. “I like it beebos.” “I like it milk.” Always the “it” between. He introduces himself to everyone with a handshake and “Name William Mascot” while pointing at himself. He also runs around making sure everyone is happy and knows what time of day it is. “Momma, I happy. You happy? Good aternoon, Momma.” (or “Good morning, Momma” or “Good night, Momma”).

Signa is just getting smarter and smarter by the moment and loves to use her imagination. She has an art class, a science group, a gymnastics class and a few playgroups each week. Last week, she had a three-hour long, three-day “Pre-engineering” class at the community center. “Pre-engineering” is actually Legos, which they used to build many cool things and, more importantly, had fun with in a big group. Signa’s teacher shared with us that she is a fun child and asks a lot of questions. But she asks them before he is done explaining. He said she is also very helpful. She helps all the other students, even when they don’t ask for help. As he said, as problems go, these are very good ones to have.

Thinking back to her dance recital at age 3, some things just haven’t changed at all.

Today we were playing store and Signa was the shopkeeper. I was shopping at her store and mentioned that I really should get the toy elephant for my son, as he really likes elephants. As I added it to my basket, she said, “Your kid probably also likes this dinosaur.”

“No,” I said. “The elephant is enough.”

She whispered at me, “No, for your GIRL kid.”

---

Edited to add the following Will-ism from today at Gramma's house:

"William, I told you to leave the lights alone! Go to your trouble sofa!"

He sat at the trouble sofa (equivalent of a Pooh Sofa that we have at home) and then I said, "Okay, you can get down. Go say you are sorry."

Will walked by me and went straight to the light switch. "Torry, yite." When I didn't say he could go play (because I was trying to laugh silently), he said, "Torry, yite switch. No more play."

Too funny.