cat named pig

People have been asking for pictures of Elliot’s haircut. While it’s not thaaaat dramatic, it is quite handsome, in my completely unbiased opinion.

Here are a few that I took with my phone when it occurred to me halfway through the appointment that hey! this first-haircut-ever-in-his-life-besides-that-one-awful-time-at-home-with-the-nail-scissors might be something to document! You know, with a photo.

Here he is getting a sucker after the haircut was done:

As soon as we got outside, I tousled it up to get rid of the side part that looked a little too 1950’s salesman for my taste, and it hasn’t been styled again since.

What else is there to say about it? He sat in the chair like a champ, probably because he was watching Elmo. He said “thank you” for the sucker. And ever since the big day, he’s been loving the attention from friends and family who were relieved about the wispy mullet’s demise. (Full disclosure: I still sort of miss the wispy mullet. It was cute. See below for a “before” picture of the full wispy, party-in-the-back-and-on-both-sides glory.)

Are you wondering what’s going on in this picture? He explained that he was playing Duck Duck Grey Duck. With the Fisher Price Little People and two dinosaurs. Because, why not? Incidentally, that was when I decided to home school Siena and never let her leave the house again. This poor little guy needs someone to play with. Someone alive — it’s hard to make a triceratops run around the circle.

And then he lined them all up.

It’s 11:26 p.m. and when you consider what time Elliot is going to wake up in the morning, there is no good reason for me to even be awake right now, much less online. Maybe the FREEZING COLD RAIN all day has made me extra alert, or maybe Fall gives me insomnia. (Note: BREATHING gives me insomnia, so this is plausible.) Whatever the reason, I am not remotely tired but should probably force myself to STEP AWAY FROM THE INTERNET and go to bed.

Before I do that, I thought I’d quickly post a few pictures of Elliot and some maps. (Taken by Matt, on our recent trip to Portland.)

Because who doesn’t like a cute little guy and a map? Enjoy your Friday.

The other night we went to Fat Lorenzo’s for pizza. It was crowded, as always, in the tiny little entrance/waiting area/gelateria, but somehow we lucked into a few chairs. Elliot, however, had no use for the chairs as they interfered with his plans to run around like he was being chased by angry bees. After about thirty seconds of that — enough time to bump every single person in the area at least twice, and by “area” I could mean either the space we were in or a certain “area” of the anatomy and the sentence would be accurate either way — I pulled him onto my lap and whispered that I had a story for him.

He leaned in and miraculously held still while I made up the following cautionary tale, in the tradition of the Brothers Grimm but with a happy ending:

Once upon a time there was a little boy named Elliot. He was at a restaurant with his family and he was acting very wild, running all over and bumping into people. And nobody liked that. Then the door opened and a man came in with a very large backpack. He scooped Elliot up and stuffed him into the backpack, then zipped it shut and took him far, far away. When he unzipped it again, Elliot looked around and said,

“Where are my mama and my daddy and my sister Siena? Please, take me back to them!”

The man said, “I will take you back to them, on one condition. You must not run around in the restaurant ever again. You must go back and sit nicely, and then you must eat your pizza nicely when it comes. Do you promise?”

Elliot promised to be good, so the man brought him back to his mama and daddy and sister, and they all ate a huge pizza and lived happily ever after.

Laugh as you may (yes, this is why I stick to non-fiction in my writing), Elliot loved this story and asked me to repeat it five more times before we were seated. Tonight at dinner, he asked me to tell it again. Siena laughed when she heard it and Matt, well, Matt probably thought it was dumb. (To which I would say, “Yeah? Dumb? It got him to sit still didn’t it? So is my story dumb, or is it dumb like a FOX?” Or something. I haven’t worked it out yet.)

And then. . . Elliot announced that he wanted to tell a story. The following is an approximation of what he told, minus a whole bunch of adorable and hilarious that doesn’t quite translate to the written paragraph:

One upon a time, there was a girl named NANA [this is what he calls Siena]. And she real bad and a big man came and put her in he backpack. And threw her in the GARBAGE. And Nana say, “Where mine mama and daddy and mine little brother EL-LI-OT?” And he taked her out of the garbage and she seed her mama and daddy and her brother El-li-ot and dey all eat pizza.

He totally needs to take over this blog. The GARBAGE twist puts my version of the story to shame.

I feel like I fell asleep in mid-July, woke up long enough to hit “snooze” in early August, blinked, rubbed my eyes, and now it’s almost October. In other words, whoa. Slow down there, Time.

On the other hand, I’m surprised how quickly we’ve settled into our new fall routine — it feels like we’ve been doing the whole elementary school thing for much longer than three weeks. Siena loves kindergarten, which we expected, but she also gets herself ready every morning without any coaxing, hand-wringing or muttered cursing on my part, which no one expected. For the first time in our lives — and for once I am not exaggerating — we seem to be consistently getting out the door on time and on speaking terms with each other. Preschool last year, though only three days a week, was much more challenging in this regard.

So I spend my days alternately shaking my head in bewilderment at how summer can be over already and crossing my fingers that the mornings continue to go this smoothly, that we’re not just experiencing a “honeymoon period” where everything to do with school is great and easy.

Meanwhile, Siena and Elliot continue to grapple with the notion of time in their own ways.

Elliot wakes up every morning (earlier and earlier, I might add, which makes no sense when you consider that the sun is rising later and later) and announces, “I wake up at TEN MINUTES again.” We don’t know whether he means after ten minutes, or that he slept for ten hours, or that he’s been awake for ten minutes already and WHERE’S MY CEE-YAY-YUL? But he is emphatic and consistent enough with this phrase that now we just respond, “Oh, you woke up at ten minutes again, huh? Well, how about some cereal?” and that seems to go over pretty well.

Siena actually has a pretty realistic sense of what time of day things take place, what day of the week it is, and even how long it will be until something happens. Sometimes. Other times, her flair for drama interferes with her ability to comprehend. Or to be more accurate, she chooses drama over comprehension, because the drama is, I don’t know, louder.

For example, the following conversation takes place in some form several times a day:

“Mama, when are we going to [insert any fun thing here -- visit Avery in South Dakota/see Beauty and the Beast the musical/get my driver's license/eat candy, etc.]?”

“Well, today [is Wednesday/is in September/you are five/it's not even dinner time yet] and you’ll do that [next weekend/around Christmas time/when you're sixteen/maybe for dessert], so, you know, not right this second.”

“WHAT?!?! You mean I’m NEVER going to [see Avery EVER AGAIN/see a musical EVER/drive a car EVER in my LIFE/eat candy EVER AGAIN]?!?!? This is TERRIBLE!!!”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I said.”

*Sigh.*

I got a pay check on Friday (!) and, since it’s been a while since that happened, I was pretty excited. I think Matt was too; he even took a picture of me holding it. (If only it had been one of those giant novelty checks — that would have made for a better picture.)

Matt was a little less excited about what I told him next.

“We bought Elliot’s Halloween costume today. He picked it out, and it was on sale so I just bought it.”

[Eye roll. Matt is allergic to buying stuff.]

“Don’t you want to see what it is?”

[Shrugging.] “Sure.”

I reached into the bag and pulled out. . . a giant, puffy chicken costume.

“What? I told you he picked it out!”

“And you actually bought it?”

I think he has some concerns about how I’m going to spend the rest of that check.

[Photo kindly taken and e-mailed to me by Old Navy Store Manager, who was either a) just overwhelmed with the hilarious cuteness of it all, or b) attempting to capture my e-mail address in order to bombard me with SPECIAL OFFERS! and GREAT DEALS! Either way, I'm cool. This image will warm my heart for years to come, particularly when Elliot pretends not to know me as I take him shopping for an outfit to wear to a junior high dance.]

Dear Two-Year-Old,

I just thought you should know a few things about yourself at this age, so you can read this later in life and either laugh or cringe at this time you don’t remember.

First off, your hair is worth remarking upon (everyone else certainly does). It is curly enough that we can’t bear to cut it, but long enough in the back to give rise to endless questions about your future hockey career. Sometimes it forms gigantic wings that swoop out to the sides, and you will probably hold this against us some day, but we think it’s funny. Mostly, we think it suits you: it’s sort of shaggy and laid-back, with plenty of enthusiasm. Just like you.

You’ve learned from your sister that a crown is always an appropriate accessory:

And that whoever cries louder usually doesn’t get blamed for whatever just happened.

You have a few new favorite books, most notably the esteemed work of rhyming fiction Tumble Bumble, which you pronounce differently every time you say it. (I especially like “Bumble Fumble,” which is also how I would describe myself trying to read it while changing your diaper and not able to see the words.)

After we read books at bedtime and naptime, you always request a song or five. Usually five. Some of these are real songs (you love my bumbly fumbly attempt at this one) and some of these are real songs that have been, uh, customized to reflect the unique interests and priorities of our family. “Twinkle, Twinkle, New Condo” would be one such customization, developed at your insistence shortly after my mom moved into her place downtown. Another is “Ring Around the Rojo One,” which is similar to “Ring Around the Rosie” but features your favorite color, which you only call by its Spanish name.

You are very proud of your “big boy bed” and very interested in any game your sister wants to play with you. You guys play hide-and-seek constantly, and I love hearing you count and then say “Hmm. I know!” before running off to look for her.

You’re doing great at being two, Buddy, and if I could bottle some of your sweetness and just take a whiff from time to time, it would help me deal with the knowledge that, in a few short years, you’ll wince when I sing and you’ll be too cool for hide-and-seek.

Love,

Mama

Siena slept over at her grandma and grandpa’s house last night, and won’t be home until later today. Matt and Elliot are playing”choo-choo trains” and a minute ago they called me into his room to show me a long fire truck completely loaded up with Fisher Price Little People .

“Tell Mama where the train is going.”

“Ma ah-MERICA!”

“They’re going to the Mall of America?”

“YEAH!”

(That’s right. That’s how we play here in Minnesota. Nothing symbolizes a fun outing like the MOA.)

Elliot then entertained us with some standing on one foot (holding onto door: several seconds. Not holding onto anything: less than one second.) and a BOONGA BONGA song and dance, which, if you’re not familiar with the art form, involves singing BOONGA BONGA and similar loudly while dancing and stomping in circles.

It occurs to me that Elliot has hardly ever had both parents’ attention all to himself since he was born. I think he’s enjoying it.

I’m crazy about this guy.

I know, I know. Two loooonnng posts about death and it’s only Tuesday. Time to lighten things up around here. In the interest of which, I present to you: Elliot’s Inner Monologue From Earlier Tonight. (As interpreted by me, after careful observation of him while on the phone with Katie, who lives far away and thus deserves my undivided attention but has to settle for most of it, some of the time.)

Elliot: I want something to play with. I want the most fun thing in the world. I want MONEY! Money to play with. Clinky, clinky coins. SHINY MONEY. Yes. To put in things. I will put it in the animal hospital toy, and then in Mama’s boots. I will lose one money, one beautiful shiny money lost in Mama’s boot–

[Out loud]: “OH, NO! NO, MONEY!”

Mama [holds boot upside down, shakes, feels around inside]: Nope, no money. Sorry, Bud.”

Elliot: “WHY-EE?!?”

Inner Monologue: WHY? WHY, when I put the money, nice shiny money in Mama’s boot, why does it not come out? In is no good without out. WHERE CAN I PUT MONEY AND HAVE IT COME OUT? Ahh. . . yes. My shirt. In between the buttons of the shirt, cold money on my belly — hee hee — and then stand up and OUT! YES! Fantastic. Do it again. Cold on the belly and OUT! This is great! Again! . . . .

[Continues in this vein for quite some time -- long enough for Mama and Katie to discuss a number of important topics, including why we don't all live in Spain and how we totally need a lifestyle built around a daily siesta.]

. . . . Great! Fun! Money in shirt, stand up, money out! All over the floor! Awesome! Fantast–BORED. BORED of this, dying of boredom, dying, dying, lying on the floor dying, BORED TO DEATH. I need attention. NOW. MAMAAAAAAAAAAAA! Mama, I need you right now, right this second — get off the phone and play with MEEEE–Whoa. Mr. Potato Head. You’re a crazy looking dude. Why so crazy looking? Let’s change your face.

The End.