I Spy

While riding an extremely crowded Disney bus yesterday, Monkey Man and I played I Spy. Monkey Man went first and his very clever, very secretive clue was:
"I Spy with my little eye, something with hair."

Then, without giving me a chance to think long and hard about this all too puzzling enigma he exclaimed, "Everyone's head! Except THAT guy!" Yes, he pointed out the one bald guy on the bus.

Twas the Night Before Disney

Twas the Night Before Disney, when in this here house,
The preschooler was not sleeping, too excited for Mickey Mouse.
The luggage was lined up by the front door with care,
Mommy hoped that sweet slumber would waft through the air.

Monkey Man tried to sleep in his bed,
But visions of 5 a.m. danced through his head.
For the 90th time he asked, "Mommy, will you wake me to go?"
And for the 90th time, exhausted, I replied, "It is so."

When up the stairs there arose such a clatter,
I dashed to the foot of them to see what was the matter.
There Monkey Man sat on a monogrammed stool,
And declared, "I will sleep here" I replied, "No! You fool!"

"Get into that bed, I know you're excited, but please,
If you don't get some rest you'll disappoint The Big Cheese.
He's watching you (yeah, I pulled the Santa threat, so sly),
And if you don't sleep this instant kiss Mickey goodbye.

The questions fired at me, excitement built up
"Is there a couch in the hotel? Water, and a cup?
Why does Pluto walk on two legs, instead of four?
Is Ariel a Princess?" (Um, no, she's a whore)

"Is Pirates of the 'Bean scary? Or no?"
Do you like the Buzz Lightyear ride or the Indy Show?
Am I tall enough for Splash Mountain? Can I bring Snuggly, too?
Can I ride on Peter Pan with Daddy and you?"

My patience was wearing thin like sunscreen upon,
a Disney World tourist in July's summer sun
So I threw on my best Mommy Smile and cooed,
"I know you're excited!" (But, c'mon. DUDE.)

Thoughts of children's Benedryl danced through my head,
For this night ahead of me filled me with dread.
Then I looked over to see a drowsy Monkey Man sleepy,
Into sweet Disney Eve slumber, it made me quite weepy.

For I know these precious times I hold dear,
And we've been blessed to spend time like this each and every year.
The innocent excitement of a 4 year-old's brain,
So pure, so real, you just cannot feign.

I went to bed cursing the alarm (set for 3),
But, admittedly, sharing Monkey's Man's glee.
And you'll hear me exclaim as I fly out of sight,
"Pass the Xanax, I'm scared to death of air flight!"

God Bless the Chicken Nugget

Dear God,

There has been an issue weighing heavy on my heart lately. I understand that our world is in turmoil now, nations are at war, and there are people in Beverly Hills that cannot afford a 5,000 square foot home and have to settle for a 4,000 square foot home due to the economy. But selfishly, I need some help.

I find myself struggling with the nutritional value of the chicken nugget. See, Lord, I really need for the chicken nugget to be the next Super Food. I need it to appear on Oprah with Dr. Oz proclaiming that the chicken nugget, alone, can fuel the body and fight disease.

As you look upon our dinner table each night, you see the battle that wages in my kitchen. On most nights, I tell Monkey Man, “You will eat what I’ve made for dinner. This is not a restaurant. I do not cook different meals for everyone…blah, blah, blah…” I’m sure you are as bored and irritated with the whole scenario as I am, but you are much more patient than I.

Then there are the nights that I just do not have any fight left in me. Like Rocky without Mickey, I just can’t do it. That is when the pre-cooked, baked chicken nuggets (the McNugget is not a frequent guest, fortunately) get pulled from the freezer. Defeated, I heat up the toaster oven and try to convince myself that one day Monkey Man will eat salmon. And asparagus. And mashed potatoes. I guess it would help if I cooked salmon and asparagus, but you get my point.

Lord, I want what is best for Monkey Man. And what is best for Monkey Man is that Mommy doesn’t lose her mind over dinner every night. He will fare so much better down the road if mommy doesn’t feel the need to eat Xanax like Skittles every day at around 4:30 p.m.

Really? I Had No Idea.

At dinner the other night, Monkey Man made an announcement:
"I'm not really much of a vegetable guy. I'm a fruit guy."

I am so thankful that he informed us of this. I had been wondering all along, what with all the,"I DON'T LIKE BROCCOLI! I DON'T LIKE CARROTS! I DON'T LIKE GREEN BEANS! I DON'T LIKE FOODS THAT WILL SUSTAIN MY BODY AND ENSURE THAT MY GROWTH IS NOT STUNTED."

If it weren't for this dinner revelation, I would still be wandering around thinking, "Hmmm, I don't know, maybe he just doesn't like vegetables..."

Monkey Man's First Favorite Song

I'm both proud and embarrassed to report that "Let's Get Rocked" by Def Leppard is Monkey Man's first favorite song. He demands it as soon as we get in the car and can be heard singing it at various times throughout the day. Hubby and I love it - we never have to listen to children's music that makes you want to poke out your eardrums slowly and deliberately with forks.

Note: I have placed Monkey Man's version of the line in parenthesis next to the real line. He is 4, after all, and to make matters worse, has the lyric deciphering skills of his father. I have also added my own notes to give you a better feel for dramatic effect.


"Let's Get Rocked" by Def Leppard

Do ya wanna get rocked?

Let's get, let's get, let's get, let's get
Rocked...... (Sang at top of lungs, for all of the neighborhood to know just what kind of music we let our child listen to)

I'm your average, ordinary, everyday kid,
Happy to do nothin'
In fact that's what I did.
Got a million ways to make my day, but daddy don't agree
'Cos when I try to get away he says
He get plans for me

Get your butt right out of bed - Stop buggin' me
Get up and move your sleepy head - Don't shake my tree.

He said
Mow the lawn - Who, me?
Walk the dog - Not my style, man!
Take out the trash - No way!
Tidy your room - C'mon get real!
Sorry dad, gotta disappear,
Let's get the rock outta here. (This stanza is a great teaching tool for when Monkey Man is 13. We are grooming him right)

Seven-day weekend, (Send in the weekend)
Up all night,
In at the deep end, (Today Monkey Man asked, "What's the deep end? Why does he say that?" This lead to a discussion on metaphors and literary tools that are beyond a preschoolers thought process. And then, shockingly, the conversation lost his interest)
Hang on tight
Won't take a minute,
Won't take long,
So get on in it,
Come on, come on, come on

Let's get, let's get, let's get, let's get rocked (Last rocked is SCREAMED!)
Let's get, let's get, let's get, let's get rocked (SCREAMED AGAIN!)
Let's go all the way, get it night'n'day (Monkey Man says, "night annay." When I try to tell him it's "night 'n' day" he adamantly tells me, "NO! It's night annay." Okay, whatever.)
C'mon let's get, let's get, let's get, let's get rocked.

I'm your average, ordinary, everyday dude
Drivin' with my baby, To get her in the mood
She's dialin' through my radio and I'm ready to make my move, (Monkey Man has been asking us this line, and thanks to my intensive research, I can now enlighten him with complete lyrics)
But what she got ain't rock'n'roll and it really blew my groove (see same note above)

It was - Chopin, Mozart, Beethoven
It makes me wanna scream - Bach, Tchaikovsky, violins (This is our way of introducing Monkey Man to OTHER musical geniuses, other than Def Leppard)
Turn it off! - That ain't my scene
Well I'm sorry girl, here's my confession
I suppose a rock's out of the question? (Monkey Man only sings the last line, which is very funny to hear him sing with such gusto).

[Repeat Bridge]
[Repeat Chorus]

Oh, all I wanna do is take a ride into the blue
Ev'ry time I want to love you I get stuck inside my room (He does not sing this line, thank the Rock Gods. However, he does sing the line below...)
Heaven knows I'm sick'n'tired of dancin' with this broom (At least he just thinks the man is literally dancing with a broom!)
I feel lucky today
Hey, look at that man!
Do ya wanna get rocked?
Do ya wanna get rocked?

It won't take you a minute,
It won't take that long,
So get on, get with it,
Oh, c'mon
Everybody!

Let's get, let's get, let's get, let's get rocked

Do ya wanna get rocked?

The Sweet Smell of Mother's Day

I woke up this morning, my nose attuned to the sweet smell of syrup in my bedroom. Monkey Man and hubby served me breakfast in bed with pancakes, syrup, and tea on Mother's Day, but I was a little bewildered that the room still smelled like syrup. It's a warm, homey, yummy smell, but two days later, still, the syrup?

After I got out of bed, I reached up to the alarm clock that sits on top of hubby's tall dresser. As I switched the radio alarm off, I realized just why the room has smelled like syrup since 9:30 a.m. Sunday morning. There upon the dresser taller than I sat a plastic Superman plate of syrup from when Monkey Man joined me on the bed Sunday morning to eat his pancakes. I guess Hubby stuck it up there after Monkey Man finished and forgot about it. And since the Cleaning Fairy took the day off, she never bothered to look on top of the dresser, taller than I, to check for leftover food from the day.

Light Sabers and Screen Doors: The Birds and Bees Talk Prequel

There is a hole in our screen on the French doors that lead to the back patio. The hole has been there since we moved in almost 2 years ago. Replacing this screen was on our to-do list the summer we moved here, last summer, and again for this year.

Just moments ago, I was reminded of this hole and why it needs to be replaced. I walked into the family room and saw Monkey Man sticking his light saber through the hole. I looked at him shocked, as if seeing a 4 year-old stick a light saber through a hole in a screen was ridiculous. But really, why WOULDN'T a 4 year-old boy stick a light saber through a hole in the screen? Seems a perfectly good place to stick a light saber.

"Monkey Man, please don't put the light saber through the hole in the screen."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not what you do with a light saber. I know testosterone tells you otherwise, but listen to your mother. And remember this conversation when you are 16. I beg of you, PLEASE."