boobies in the kye with decka

Sundays we traditionally have pamcakes for breakfast.  I make them from scratch from Great Grammy's recipe that I have mesmerized.  (Though I normally add chocolate tips and booberries; NOT part of the original recipe.)

Decka, Sunday morning, was a LOT whinier than usual, the symptoms of which we are ascribing to a growth spurt.  As the pamcakes and the bacon were frying in the kitchen, Decka trotted forlornly between MUM! and Da-EEE, both of whom were otherwise occupied with Towse and pamcakes respectively.  (Personally, I was happy to be on pamcake duty seeing as how Towse has a habit of puking up all over whomever has the pleasure of holding him.)

After we finally got through breakfast, I took Decka out for a walk to the nearby park before MUM! totally snapped from the whining.  (Though it's very amusing to hear a frustrated woman do her best King Julian impression, from the movie Madagascar, "Oh shut up, you're so annoying!" directed towards her own son.)

A five block walk with a toddler takes a looooong time.

Thankfully, Decka seems to have mostly gotten over his fear of debris, (though errant sock fluff in the tub is another issue entirely).  This has evolved to a fascination with pretty much anything that breaks up the monotony of a walk.  He no longer squeals alarmingly at the previously fear-inducing cones, gicks, ocks and atts.  Decka even went so far, Sunday morning, to hunker down on his hats and knees to prod at a couple of industrious atts crossing the busy sidewalk; though he did recoil in, um, caution when they reversed direction and headed back towards his right hat.

Nearly every single twee we passed had to be stroked, touched or outright embraced before being named and then moving on.  The leaves were identified as a vibrant reen and the traces of moss on some (always growing on the north side) were poked and dubbed ello.

Along the entire length of our walk, we could hear many different species of boobies.  Some nearby in the twees, some off in the distance, and others flying in a V formation way up in the kye.  Those that Decka could see were worthy of a brief arrest to our perambulation, "Boobies!!  Weet, weet."

We spent upwards of an hour playing in the and, swinging on the weens and making free with the rest of the playground equipment.  We were the only ones there the whole time.  I had to cajole Decka for a few minutes when it came time to leave since we were expecting late-morning company.  Every time I told him it was time to go he responded with a petulant, "No," followed by two arms raised, puppy dog eyes and the most mournful, "Meeez?" you've ever heard.  It took me about ten minutes to get him to follow me.

After he woke from his nap, we fleshed out the shopping list and headed to Superstore.  Decka wanted some cackoos halfway through the trip, but I told him we had lots of Ritz and Wheat Thins back home and he'd have to wait.  His eyes lit up when I picked up some moke, 2% for him and skim for me, but that was nothing to the expression on his face when I grabbed a big basket of stawboos.  I gave him a big fat red one as soon as we got out the door.

After putting all the groceries away, I barbequed buh-goos for dinner, but Decka didn't eat anything more than his ketchup-slathered bun.  Towse sat in his high chair, smiled, cooed and puked up all over himself.

We absolutely HAD to go outside after dinner, and MUM! was as adamant about that as was Decka, seeing as how the boy was just as whiny before buh-goos as he was before pamcakes.  So we put on our gocks and sooze and headed out to the castle sandbox for a quick romp with the Pihn-cess, the Naught and the Dagoo.  "ROWR!!!"  (There's a little brown boot, too, but no water in the moat to float it.)

Our next stop was making a beeline straight for the ween hanging from the twee in the very back of the yard.  Every time I grabbed the ween and lifted it for another arc, Decka would precede the motion with, "Reh-eee?  Gooooooo!!"

He got out of the ween and walked around picking up all the loose gicks that Fahvey and Geeko had chewed off the twees.  Each one got flung firmly into the firepit.  It was nearly bath time when I noticed his bahper was leaking through his bants, and I realised that we didn't change him after his nap.  Bad Da-EEE!

We avoided all gock fluff in the tub, aided by a panoply of bubboos.  Decka had to use his tub crayons, so I was sure to give him the buh-loo and oritz ones so he'd paint the tub in Oilers colours.  He asked me to paint too, so I spelled out his name and his brother's and helped him read them:  "Decka Beezoo and Towse Beezoo."  He lost interest as soon as he remembered how much fun it is to play with his wenis.  Getting out of the tub was no trouble, since BOB! is his favourite pair of pyjamas and he loves to put them on, run out of the bathroom and go kiss MUM!

Before bed, we had to sit through nearly an hour of an Elmo video. I took most of the time to finish up the dishes, but I was called back into the living room for my first exposure to Mister Noodles.  This was exacerbated by having to read the Elmo and Friends book to him at the same time.  Elmo media overload!!

Bedtime is now always signalled by a happy, "Nigh - night!" and a series of kisses for MUM!

Un
toooo
wee
foh
ive
icks!!

One more book while in bed and then Decka curled up with his Tigger and puppy.  But not before Da-EEE got a kiss goodnight.

Comments

[Tasha]

Too cute. WHat is it with men and their wenises?!? Ben's got the same love for his.

[Alec]

"Those that Decka could see were worthy of a brief arrest to our perambulation, 'Boobies!!'"

It never fails to amaze me how much is cute in kids that would get an adult slapped.

[marian]

I'm surprised that Declan didn't try to eat any of the cones, icks, ocks or atts. The ick food group was a very big part of Max's diet until he was at least three. Especially atts. Apparently they're quite sweet.

[Simon]

Ah Tasha... the love affair never goes away.

[marian]

Wow! Orange!

[Paul]

I believe "Boobies! Weet! Weet!" might just replace "Norman Brown!" as my go-to statement of the excellence of a thing. For example, when my second makes a great double take-out, instead of pointing at him and shouting, "Norman Brown!" in a strong Scottish Brogue, I'll simply punch my fist in the air and call out, "Boobies! Weet! Weet!"

Hmmm, maybe not.

[rick]

"Boobies! Weet! Weet!" in a strong Scottish brogue would probably work out pretty well.... sort of like "Hoot! Awa'!"

[Paula]

Ah, to think we've misunderstood all along. You are, as it turns out, a great admirer of BIRDS.

[Paul]

...in a British, slangy sort of way...

[smarty]

It's so nice when they stop speaking Swahili and start speaking Lispuanian. At least then you can understand every third word. Only problem is that they get so very frustrated with you when you have no idea what 'fum' is.

[the Mater]

This is another essay to be printed, folded and put away and presented to Dec ... er, maybe at his bachelor party.

Very, very cute. You have an ear for Declarations.

[Mark]

Great entry to represent Declan's speech, and I'm sure it was hard figuring out how to spell some of those sounds (and suspect that you still aren't happy with some of them, because they just don't capture the actual sound made).

That was your first exposure to Mr. Noodle?

[Simon]

Mark, there are several inappropriate responses vying for the right to post in reply to your comment above, but suffice to say that, yes, that was my first exposure to Mr. Noodle.