No.

“No.” That word is my new thing It sort of just rolls off the tongue smooth and heavy like a marble. Sometimes, I can even dress it up in case I’m feeling bored with my selection of words I can use to blatantly refuse a task. I’ve used unique variations like “nope” and “nope thank you.” I’m two, so it’s still sort of cute.

I have a very distinct dimple on my left cheek so when I smile really big after vehemently denying whatever parental request has bounced into my court, I can sometimes dodge a time out. I’d say to date, my odds are around 4:1.

There was a period of time where my parents were on the cusp of being concerned about my lack of speech. I say “on the cusp” except there was no cusp. My mom was not tiptoeing around being worried. She wasn’t on the “edge” of being worried. She had jumped fearlessly right into the hot, bubbly worry and was swimming around frantically, pulling my dad in, too. If I could have spoken, I would’ve said “Chill, mom.” I was rounding the corner on my second birthday and my words were still limited to mama, dada and a long string of sounds where I raised and lowered the pitch with no spaces in between.  

Thankfully, I had a Ms. Tanya who demanded I make sounds, sensible sounds. If I really wanted something, I had to tell her what I wanted, using WORDS. Words that weren’t spoken in cursive. Words that I had to make using my tongue and the roof of my mouth and some strange combinations of the two. I spent many months stubbornly arm crossing and mean mugging. I threw my head back in anger. I threw tantrums and also, on some days I threw hard, plastic objects.

The words came. They weren’t flowing out of me like the poetic verses they are now. But they came. It started with “purple” and then “orange.” It blossomed into “Yes” “No” and then “Yes, please” and a very distinct “No ma’am.”

And then, one morning while we watched Saturday morning cartoons, I walked up to my mom while she snuck in a catnap on the couch. I inched as close to her as I could. I could feel her coffee breath on my face. I blinked my large eyes rapidly. This was going to be great. *Blink *Blink *Blink. I reached backwards and patted my diapered butt and then I said my first whole sentence “Mama, I poop pants.” I think my odor reached her with the same ferocity as the sound of my full sentence because she leapt several feet off of the couch in equal parts excitement and nausea.  

I know I shouldn’t tell my mom and dad “No.” I know I also shouldn’t say “Nope. Nope thank you. No ma’am. No sir” Just like THEY know I shouldn’t. I should probably shake my head yes and comply, like an obedient 2-year-old. But my parents are giving me an inch right now. I know they so enjoy hearing the sound of my sweet voice that’s making words they understand. I say I ride on their wave of gratefulness for as long as this thing will hold me.

 

Essence of Diaper

Hi I’m Mila. That’s me on the right. When I’m not dressed up like a pirate and scaling the bridge on Bayshore Blvd, you can find me in civilian clothes drinking milk from a sippy cup and walking around in plastic high heels that click on our ceramic tile.

I know you already met my brother, Caleb. He and I are quite different in our approach to life. I typically smell like fruit and toothpaste. He has more of an essence of crackers and diaper. He’s a pretty laid-back, take life as it comes, kind of guy. We have no idea where he gets it from.

I, however, prefer to have a hand in my day to day functioning. My mom is well-intentioned. I’m glad she hasn’t caught on yet to the astute mental capacity of my brother and I. She assumes we are just adorable, curly-haired reflections of Jesus with sweet little lisps and we do as she says because we’re obedient. It's us and her (and our big sister until she goes back to school) for 8 hours until daddy’s done with work. She says adorable things like “Mila, do you want to go to the library?” Of course not, Amy. I’d like to sit right here with my Capri-Sun and draw on my hands with my sister’s permanent markers when you’re not looking. I can’t say these things to my mom because she'd never let THAT be an option, so I just smile really big, shake my head and say “Nope”. And then she laughs and laughs as she forces my shoes on and carries me to the mini-van anyways. Your questions are redundant, Amy. That's what i want to say. 

I have very long eyelashes and with them comes tremendous power. I can bat them slowly or quickly. I can also trap a tear in them and turn just right so the tear glistens in the kitchen light and my dad actually melts into a puddle right in front of me. 

For fun, I enjoy blowing bubbles, telling my parents "no" and figuring out how things work. I have 2 great siblings and I'm so glad I get to raise these parents with them on my team.          

Stay at Home Children

Hey fellow bloggers,

My name’s Caleb. That’s me on the right, with the unruly hair and the under-the-sea pajamas. I broke the remote control three times today so I didn’t put up much of a fight when my mom picked out these particular pajamas. I figure she earned it. I’m more of a rugby-striped, zip-up one-piece with the slip guards on the feet kind of guy but I let her dress me without incident. I’ll find a time to maneuver in my famous kick and barrel roll the next time I feel she needs a gentle reminder of who she works for. 

This is my mom on the left. She says my sisters and I are her 3 favorite people, although I’m certain she likes me a little bit more. We have an agreement to never look at any camera at the same time. She spends a lot of time coiling my curly hair around her index finger while we watch Zootopia. I’ve learned just to lean my head into her a little closer sometimes. It’s the least I can do given the number of times I’ve puked in her freshly-washed hair.

I'm writing this blog because I want to teach other kids the proper way to children their parents. It involves a great deal of patience, the willingness to go limp-noodle in public places and a lot of careful observation. I heard my mom say recently that she's going to be a stay-at-home mom. I don’t know the details but it must be big because she brought home her entire classroom in our minivan and she keeps saying things like “Ya’ll better shape up if we’re going to be home together every day.” So, I’m working on my shapes now because she seems serious about it.

Check back every once in a while. My sister, Mila and I will be giving you tips on how to manage a home life balance, how to reject blueberries and cucumbers and opt for simple carbs like hot dog buns, how to maximize the amount of square footage you can cover in small, sharp and difficult-to-see toys, how to keep your parents on a schedule and most importantly how to seamlessly establish dominance in a home where the children outnumber the adults.