Wild Crayola Kingdom

This afternoon I decided to set my three year old up with some pens and paper so I could get my kitchen cleaned. By the way, cleaning a kitchen with an 11 month old on the loose is a little like rowing a boat with one oar.
In a whirlpool.
(whose idea was it anyway to have a designated Tupperware drawer within reach of a baby? It seemed like every house Ive been to that had kids, had a Tupperware drawer. And since I had a drawer that was full of knives, I converted it to a Tupperware drawer. Dumbest thing in the world. My kitchen now looks like the dishwasher threw up everywhere. All. The. Time. But thats a whole other story)
Anyways, I get the kitchen cleaned up (minus the floor, ahem.) and I put the baby in the high chair with some cheerios and Im watching my three year old draw. He takes requests even. So I suggest he draw a picture of his family.
"Okay!" He says enthusiastically. And he starts off with a big ass circle on the page. "This is your big humongous head."
Um. Thanks. Then he draws three other smaller heads. Whatever. I wont even go into how he drew my feet bigger than my husbands. I guess it could have been worse. I did appreciate the understated stick body he gave me. =)
He then finishes his drawing and holds it up to show me. I gush and tell him how wonderful it is and then he suggests we "Magnet it up on the fridge." But on his way he stops to show the baby.
And things get ugly from there.
He held his picture a little too close to the baby and like a crocodile who has been waiting in the water all afternoon for the unknowing Gazelle that stopped to take a drink, he sprung. Tiny fingers clamped down on the picture with no mercy. Cue in pissed off wind up.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh. LET GO!"
I jumped up and tried to stop him from pulling his picture away. After all you know that unsuspecting Gazelle wasn't successful at pulling his leg out of the mouth of the croc. Oh no. Big mess. But I didnt get there in time. The picture ripped. The pieces floated to the floor in slow motion. We all stood there for what seemed an eternity looking at the carnage, before my sons face scrunched up and he kicked the picture away, disowned it and stormed off.
I did tape the picture back together and "magnet it up on the fridge." We'll see if he acknowledges it or not. I fear it may be too little too late.
But my kitchen is clean! ;)
(except for the plastic roadkill on the floor)

The Hunt for Green November

So we have a rogue sippy cup in our house. Its got half a tank of apple juice and evil intentions. Its been MIA since yesterday morning. I started my search last night with no success, and its continued into this morning.
My children just drop things randomly throughout the house. I know. I kick them, step over them, step on them all day long. So why the top secret location for this cup? My three year old announces that we are going to play hide and seek. He tells me he is going to go hide under the covers and tells me to count to ten. Then after I get to ten, he yells "Ready or not, here I come!" and jumps out.
Three year old. Easy to locate. This cup? Not so much.
Its a race to see who gets it first. If I win, cup gets washed and we go about our lives. If the kids win....I cringe at the thought.
So until the elusive sippy cup is found, Mom is on high alert.

Bleach Bum?

My son wiped his butt last night with Clorox wipes.
That's all Im gonna say.

DingDongDingDongDingDongDingDong......

Last night was Halloween. (well Duh.)
We took the kids to a friends house, so all the kids could go trick or treating together. As I watched my 3 year old running up the street on the heels of his little friend, I came to the realization, that I need to get that boy out more. He was entirely too excited to be there. He was dressed up in a lion costume and practically flying from house to house, feet barely touching the ground, he would whiz past all the other kids so he could get to the door first. Then he would ring the doorbell 12 times, then knock 14 times. Then after he got his treat he would come barreling down the driveway holding up his bag of candy to show me. Then right back to flying down the sidewalk on the heels of his friend. We would tell him to slow down a little, quit running, stop pushing to the front, be patient, quit attacking the doorbell, stop yelling. We may as well have been talking to a rock. He ran, he pushed past people, he impatiently attacked door bells while yelling. I was afraid the other parents with us were secretly thinking that our "little lion" was really a feral cat.
But in the end, he got to dress up, get a bunch of candy, play with other kids his age and thats what really counts. It truly was cute to watch them all interacting with one another and talking to each other as only three year olds can. It was a Happy Halloween. ;)