cyu' me, dart deeder

Just a quick post to record some instances of A's sense of humor, since he has been cracking me up lately. He enjoys the absurd, or at least what I have told him is absurd, like having marshmallows for breakfast. He doesn't know that Lucky Charms exist at the moment. So nearly every morning he asks, "Ma-mellow bep-bist?" with a sly grin, and then says "Noooooooooo" and laughs. Same with am-mal kackers for bep-bist.

A and D also share some silly conversations, all beginning with "excuse me," in a very childish-sounding voice. So he and D go back and forth, saying "cyu' me, Daddy," "thcuse me buddy" etc. A spent several minutes this morning with his Darth Vader big-head toy, saying "Cyu' me, Dart Deeder." This kids meal toy was the best investment ever--the Darth Vader opens up to reveal a big-head Annikin (spelling?). But Annikin doesn't spend much time as the Evil Lord Vader. Papa Smurf, a harmless velvet bear, and Batman have all spent time in the Vader suit. We never suspected Papa could be so evil.

And finally, our trip to the mall this week is something I will look back on with satisfaction, once I have successfully embarrassed the crap out of A when he's a middle school student. I was trying on blouses in a store, and A was entertaining himself well and walked over to open the door of my changing room. I told him no, don't do that because mommy's naked nuu nuu and doesn't want to show everybody in the store. So he looked sly once again and said, "Mommy nakit nuu nuu, show effybody 'tore!"

Then we went to another store, and visited the bathroom for a minute. I went with him into a handicapped stall, since we had the stroller and all. He wasn't strapped in, but usually behaves himself in the bathroom. Well, I bent down to get the almost inaccessible toilet paper, thinking some wheelchair-bound person would fall off the seat to reach it. I looked up to see the stall door wide open and three ladies laughing, fit to burst. A said "Door ibin, Mommy, ibin door!" knowing full well that he was the one who opened it. I couldn't reach the door in the state I was in, since handicapped stalls are much longer, so I had to get one of the laughing ladies to close it for me.

Freud would have a field day with this, since one of my deep-seated fears is of public restrooms. I have, in my short lifetime, walked in on a homeless lady and all her bags in our church bathroom, a deranged man in the ladies' bathroom in Towson, and toilets fit for the first scene in "trainspotting" while pregnant. Not to mention the countless feminine articles, improperly discarded, and children looking under the stall door for a laugh. If I could hold it forever till I get to my own toilet, I would be so content. All my nightmares involve public toilets with broken doors and loads of spectators. Analyze that!