The Turkey (currently, he is known by said name... otherwise he is known as Blessing #5) gave me three frustrating days of car travel... which led to much groaning and growling, as his antics left me pulling over to deal with his orneriness.

After dropping off the older girls at school on Tuesday, we were driving to the library to return a few books. I hear a proud, joyous "YAY!!" from the little guy and catch sight of his blond 'shroom in the rearview.

Which means he is not in his seat.

Yes, the little booger had figured out how to slide down the buckle, shrug his arms out of the straps, and shimmy his little booty right on out of his carseat. And from that point on, it was constant.

Discipline? Yeah. And, yeah, he'd cry and fuss and holler. And then he'd get over it, wiggle out, and proudly "hip hip hooray" all over again. And I'd grunt and growl again.

He was happy. I was tired.

We got to school to pick up the girls and parked on the street to wait. No sooner had the car been parked than Mr. Gobble Gobble looked out the window and got excited to see the kids milling around.

In a matter of seconds, he was out the window, waving and hollering "HI! HI! HI!"

Quickly grabbing the camera, I snapped a succession of pictures. They tell the story.

So Thursday after I put the little stinker down for a nap, I headed to the driveway to swap around carseats. B#4 got promoted to the booster, and B#5 got her seat.

There's still the same problem of him being able to slide down the buckle, but since he can't get himself out now (because the belt goes snugly around his waist instead of being apart of a shield), the fascination to get my moma-goat has dwindled. Which is good because my car supply of moma-sanity-chocolate dwindled away in direct proportion to his orneriness.

Friday we got several hours of an early April Fool's.

Through the front window, I spied B#3 sporting a Santa hat and sticking out his tongue. And check out that winter coat!

Yep, that boy was catching snowflakes.

I tried to get a picture of all the snow, but when it's just falling and not sticking it's a little harder to capture. Click to enlarge and you should be able to see all the white spots.

While the snow (and the temperature!) was falling, I busied myself in my warm, cozy kitchen making B#2's birthday cake for today. (More pictures of birthday excitement to come!) She told me she wanted a Strawberry Shortcake birthday cake.

And those are capital S's. Not a strawberry shortcake, but a Strawberry Shortcake cake. Knowing that it would definitely not look like Miss Shortcake if I attempted to actually decorate Strawberry herself, I got B#2 excited about the idea of a Strawberry Shortcake hat. I thought I could probably handle that.

I put part of the batter in a big pan to make the bottom of the hat and put the rest of the batter in a glass bowl to make the top of the hat. (B#3 kept talking about my "potty cake." Sounds insulting, but he was referring to the pot part... the bowl part.) I even got a little creative and made the bow 3-D... I found some Airheads candy in the cabinet, nuked 'em, cut 'em, and dough-rollered 'em together to make the stripey ribbon. (Though B#3 tells me it's not stripey enough... not like Strawberry's bow.)

The cake turned out well, I think. And, most importantly, she seems really excited and happy about it!

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Blessing #4 turned FOUR today!!

(And, according to the trusty newspaper,

she won't have another Easter birthday until the year 2160.)

*sniffle, sniffle*

My littlest girl is growing up!

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Blessing #3:
Mooooommmmaaaa! Moma!

Monkey Moma:
What's up, bud?

B#3 (whimper, whimper, whine, pouty face and drama):
[B#4] pinched me on the brain!
Ohh, ouchy! My brain is all hurty, hurty now!
Moma, she pinched me on the brain!

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In case you were needing some silly entertainment,
go stick your face in some holes!

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Separation Anxiety.

Wikipedia tells us it’s a psychological condition in which an individual has excessive anxiety regarding separation from the home or from the people to whom that individual has a strong emotional attachment.

Wikipedia forgot about dolls and blankets and books and teddy bears.

And teeth.

Blessing #2 has a snaggle tooth. A super-dooper snaggle tooth. A snaggley snaggle tooth.

She lost her first front, top tooth a week or so ago. But only after it had been very loose for a few months and only after she fell at recess and bumped it on a metal bar and knocked it out. Yay for metal bars! (But only because said bar knocked out said needed-out-anyways snaggle tooth. Besides, seeing that wiggly tooth was about to drive us crazy.) She was overwhelmed with excitement and giddiness when she skipped out to the car that afternoon, proudly waving her little tooth baggy.

Enter front, top tooth number 2. Equally loose… for an equally long time. But driving us so much more crazy because the thing is more than very loose. It is literally hanging on by a thread.

It’s beyond snaggle. Snaggle tooth really is quite the understatement.

It’s kinda more like… stomach turning.

She does not want this thing out of her mouth. She wants it there forever. She loves it. She will miss it when it’s gone.

Even so, she fusses when it bleeds. Or when she brushes her teeth. Or when peanut butter gets stuck under it. Or when her chin slips off her hands and she bangs her mouth on the counter.

Beloved Husband has said that tonight is the night. It’s coming out; he will make sure of it.

This afternoon, B#2 says, “When a tooth is this loose, should I just pull it out?” I tell her absolutely. She just giggled, somberly followed by, “Nah… I don’t want it out.”

This is separation anxiety at its finest.

Or at its worst.

Ew.

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44

It's your turn...
How many colors can you name?

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Ditch Diggin'

SUNDAY AFTERNOON PROJECT:

Digging trenches to reroute the backyard sprinklers.

Child labor is under-rated. :)

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