I was walking down the aisles at our local evil Walmart store last night, Maya babbling in her animated fashion while cradling a bag of Ore Ida tater tots like it was a newborn (if you’re asking why she was holding frozen tots, then you obviously don’t have kids, because you if had kids you would simply nod), when I passed by a man who was pushing a cart with another toddler (a two-year old boy) and a big kid in tow. We’re both passing the lingerie section at the same time when the two-year old looks around, his big eyes bright and full of mischief, raises his hand in the air and exclaims, “Boobies! Boobies!” Dad just nods his head in agreement, completely unfazed, and keeps on truckin’. Kudos, dad. At least the tot didn’t yell, “Titties!” in a Daniel Tosh way. It was probably the funniest moment of my day. In fact, I might have to use it in a story somewhere (with slight embellishment, of course).
The “Maya finally gets it” story of the day: this morning I filled a toddler-size bowl with Cheerios and yogurt melts for Maya to snack on, but she kept dumping them out and creating a mess (surprise). I scooped them back into the bowl, told her no, and set it back down. She immediately repeated the process, so I put the bowl up. FREAK OUT. Bowl goes back down to her level with a stern “Do not dump these out.” Her response: an exasperated D’Aiiight! Which I assume is her version of alright. She did not dump them out again. I win.
It’s summertime and I’m not going to sit around and tap my keyboard. We’re getting out and about! I leave with one of my favorite poppy summertime songs by the Sundays, an underrated band from my teen years. They’ve never left my side, though.