Wow, I'm all-powerful!

Tonight our cable went out for about 2 minutes, taking down with it the digital video recorder that we lease from the cable company that contains every episode of Jakers!, Little Einsteins, and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse ever aired. Is there room for adult shows? No, not really -- but I'm so happy that we can control what he watches, give him what I think are reasonably intelligent, educational shows, and avoid commercials....

So it's that period in the evening when we watch a little Little Einsteins after dinner and chill out getting ready for bed, and FOOMPT, the whole system goes down -- DVR, cable box, big huge scary high-def TV -- all of it. I explained that it was broken and I needed to fix it, and then he did heavy-breathing exercises while I fiddled with the remote and tried to will the DVR not to have dumped its contents, something it's done more than once on us.

And lo, about 3 minutes later, I managed to get everything back online, and Noah threw his tiny arms in the air: "Mommy! You fix ANYTHING!"

I feel so powerful!

My husband is so witty....

We're in the throes of starting potty training. "Want to sit on the potty?" "No!" "Hey, look -- Mommy is going potty, want to come see?" "No!" "Are you making a poopie?" "No!" "Do you know that big boys who sit on the potty get a lollipop?" "Yes!" "Do you want a lollipop?" "Yes!" "So do you want to go sit on the potty?" "No!" And then foompt, there's a shocking aroma and it's time to change the diaper. Dang, foiled again.

We're looking for the early warning signs of poopie. You know, the signs that come before THE FACE, when it's just too late. So far the most reliable one is, well, the farting.

So tonight, there's a sudden rumbling noise from the diaper, and my beloved says "Are you making a poopie?" And Noah says "No!" And hubby turns to me with a very serious face and says "Coming soon to a diaper near you!" Who knew he could be so funny?

I forgot one...

Another bit of toddler brilliance:

• Last weekend, Noah crawled up into bed with me one morning, and after a bit of a snuggle and a cartoon, turned to me, held my face in his little chubby hands and said "Mommy? I think-a you CUTE!" And really, how could I ever say no to him again?
• Yesterday on returning home from a jaunt to the grocery store Noah immediately stripped off his shoes and then his socks, announcing to the world "Look! I got cute feet!"
• I wish I could get an audio file to use in my email system that's a recording of him announcing to me this morning when I woke up and lumbered downstairs: "Mommy! I got BACON!"

Has anybody seen my cow?

Wow, a few months go by fast! Shortly after my last post, I "came down ill" with something that nearly turned into pneumonia, and became an ear infection shortly after New Year's for my little boy, resulting in the fact that my hubby and I spent our anniversary caring for a puking toddler. Oh, the romance.

But the amazing things my boy has said in the last month boggle the mind. In particular, the following creative marvels spring to mind:

• Mommy, I want-a you arm! When Noah was a newborn, one of the few ways that I could find to lure him into sleep long enough for me to, oh, I don't know, bathe or something was to very regularly and gently run my finger down the side of his face, from temple to chin, over, and over, and over.... And to this day, when he's tired, he'd like to rub his face on skin. Mine, if at all possible; his own, if mine isn't available. The result of this is that even on the coldest possible days, he wants to pull his sleeve up so that he can rub his face against his own inner arm.
• BOO! This past weekend, Noah developed both comic timing and the ability to make an entrance. Three times, I've been jerked out of blissful sleep by a clever two-year-old standing at the side of the bed and shouting "BOO!" then watching his mother levitate and try to maintain bladder control. When I succumb to gravity again, he looks at me seriously an says, "Mommy, did I scare you?" No, kid -- Mommy ALWAYS wakes up 3 feet in the air.
• The big W. A little boy at day care has developed a hopefully shortlived habit of rushing Noah and pushing him over, or using that blanket-with-a-bear-head-sewn-into-it like some kind of medieval flail to whack him in the head. Other boy's mother rushes in and insists that he apologize to Noah, but his answer this morning spoke volumes: "Oh, Jonathan -- WHATEVER." My boy....