Vegetables

When I was younger, about 11, I used to watch AJ and CJ for my mom during the day. She would leave to run errands and I would watch the boys over dinnertime. I used my limited knowledge of the kitchen to prepare Macaroni and Cheese or Spaghettios. Sometimes Mom would make dinner ahead of time, and leave it on the stove for me to serve for them. I remember we had these brightly colored plates with separate sections for food. Two smaller sections, for the dessert and veggies, and one large one for their main entree. Because AJ is the older of the two I used to ban together with him in an effort to get CJ to eat his peas. Two heads were better than one. One day I thought of this brilliant plan: I would call my house (to make the phone ring) and hang up quickly. Then I'd have CJ answer the phone thinking someone was on the line. Because he was 4 he ignored the dial tone he heard upon pressing, "talk". I would sit upstairs on the other phone and pretend I was Hercules. When he was younger he epitomized Disney's Hercules and insisted on having muscles just like his. I, as Hercules, would urge CJ to eat his veggies, and like any good protege would, CJ ate the veggies.

This worked for a while. Each time I would be someone different-depending on the season. Sometimes I was Santa Claus, sometimes the Easter Bunny, sometimes I would even imitate my mom. Eventually CJ began to test the validity of these characters, "No, you're not Hercules" etc. It became harder and harder to execute my brilliant plan.

One evening AJ, my partner in crime, was being particularly ornery. I pleaded with him to eat his vegetables... promising the world on a silver platter if he'd oblige. He refused. Still I asked him to assist me in our phone call ritual. If I could get CJ to down his dinner, all would not be lost. AJ conceded and fulfilled his normal role downstairs while I pretended upstairs. I defaulted back to the almighty Hercules after CJ denounced Santa Claus. AJ, still angry at me for forcing the greens on him betrayed me. I could hear his little voice in the background, "it's not really Hercules, CJ.. it's Katie." I should have known... working with a 6 year old.

"Sange meh!"

Km: "What? What are you trying to tell me?"

Wg: "Sangeh meh!"

Km: "What? Wg, please, point... or something! Show me!"

Wg: "I said, SANGEH MEH!"

Km: *Looking hopelessly at Dg* 

Dg: "He said, change him.''

Km: *looking in horror at Wg* "Why would I need to change you Wg?"

Wg: *sheepish*

Km: "Wg...."

Dg: "He probably pooped."

Wg: "Yup."

Km: "UGH! WG!!!!"

I am babysitting the boys tonight. Dad and Nh have gone on a date. I don't mind at all. The four or so hours they're gone has proven to be quite a stress reliever for me. I enjoy painting, taking walks, and reading with the boys.

Before Nh left she explained to me several things: Make sure not to get Dg's cast wet, Dg likes Ravioli and Wg doesn't... etc. etc. Most disconcerting of all these things is this: "Wg is wearing underwear now" (after this sentence she gives me a funny look and says...) "But he is by no means potty trained!" At which point my heart sunk into my stomach. She explained that he should be fine, and is pretty good at going potty. Every five minutes after she and dad left I asked Wg if he had to go to the bathroom. His response was always, "Nope Km!" I should have known better. 

So now we're back at the beginning of the blog, this poop conversation. I tell Wg to go sit on the potty, as he walks away I can't see anything in his pants... so I sigh a sigh of relief. I am hoping he will do his business in the toilet. I walk into the bathroom to find a half dressed Wg with... well... poop all over his little white butt standing over the toilet. As I approach him I can see that he has dropped his underwear in the toilet. "WG! Why are your underwear in the toilet!?" Little Wg replies with, "You know, I am washing them." Simple. Silly. 

The rest, is history.