I Got My Back Against The Record Machine

So, here's a new game for you. It's called "Bald Guy Jumping Board". My girls and nephew invented it last month. I think it is derived from an ancient Roman gladiator event, or a Spanish Inquisition torture, either way, it is a hoot for all the jumpers.

The Rules are basic:
#1: Find a bald, lazy guy and trick him to lay on his belly in an open area, preferably a carpeted living room. (If he has a round belly, there is more of a balancing challenge for the experienced).
#2: Start by standing on the sucker's legs, and march your way up his back.
#3: Bounce on his shoulders and then jump off over his shiny white head.
#4: If you fall off, you go to the end of the line and start over

There is no limit to the number of players.

Scoring:
If you get a grunt or exasperating sound of pain from the baldy, you get a point
If you clear his noggin, you get two points.
If you land on his smooth melon, you get one point
If you land on your feet, you get three points
Bonus points are awarded for style and distance of jump, this includes the use of props such as stuffed animals resembling the President.

To Win:
The first one to one hundred, wins!

So we played it once.
When I came to, I believe I heard that Ellie won.

Mother's Little Helper

It was time for us to give Ellie her Mylanta to help her continuing constipation situation. Before anyone gets too excited about this, Ellie has a love-hate relationship with her bowels. She is constantly holding in her "business" until she is so backed-up, she nearly bursts at the seams. We have to coax her into a BM on a daily basis, so potty-training is pretty much on hold until we can get past this desire to keep it to herself. So where was I? Yes, the Mylanta Exchange.

We have tried a multitude of strategies for this, all of which seem to have only worked once. Usually a bribe for a cookie, or candy, or ice cream does the trick, however, this night they were as successful as pulling out a week-old dinner from the refrigerator; nothing was going to get her to take that darned cherry-flavored, milky shot of Mylanta.

We tried the tender talk approach. The one where we try to thoroughly explain that it helps her tummy, yada, yada, yada. The soft words were drained out by her yelping screams of disgust.

We finally had to pull out the big guns and use the "daddy" voice to get the job done. Of course, she was so worked up by this time that she gulped a huge swig and immediately started to regurgitate the blessed corndog meal (see previous post, "Godzilla"). Lucky for all of us, Abbie was there lickety-split with a motherly cupped hand to catch the fine collage of pink Mylanta and re-reprocessed meat chunks the size of marbles.

Now if that's not love, I don't know what is. Abbie can even tell you this story with a smile on her face. Oh, the powers of gestation. Amazing.

Godzilla

It was a night filled with hearty laughs as Ellie was in rare form. We were all sitting at the dinner table. We have been encouraging a grace before meals and have been giving the girls a chance to take the lead. Ellie, as in everything, was first to dive in. She has given it a couple of times after Emma has declined. This night Emma decided that she was willing to give it a shake, but when we all got hold of each others hands, she quickly clammed up. I wasn't going to just let her give up, so we began encouraging Emma.

"Who do you love, Emma?" I started.
She looked at me, then to Abbie and sheepishly replied, "I don't know."

Suddenly our circle around our table was broken by Ellie, who had grown impatient with her sister. In an instance she reached out to her plate, snatched a piece of corn dog and threw it in her mouth with a joyful head bob to help her chew. She joined us with a smirk shot to both her mother and I.

Emma nervously giggled, appreciative for the interruption. We returned our focus to our oldest, "Just tell us what you are thankful for. Who do you love?" Abbie continued.

Ellie jump-started the grace for her sister by beginning, "Mommy..."
"Yeah," Emma agreed and then tightened her lip firmly.
"Casey (our dog that Ellie loves)" Ellie supported her fledgling older sister.
"um hm." Emma agreed.
Finally, Emma was able to name all of our immediate relatives, and we all gave praise to one another and for our food as we wiped the sweat that had accumulated on our hands during the entire ordeal onto our clothes before digging into our meal.

Soon, Abbie began to coach Ellie about what she had done that day at Grammy Sally's.
"Ellie played in the backyard today, didn't you Ellie?" she said.
Ellie nodded with almost a whole corndog squishing insider her full mouth.
"And you talked about where the trees came from..." Abbie persisted.
Another nod of agreement came from Ellie's quiet side of the table.
"From God, right?" Abbie persuaded while Ellie continued to confirm with her approving nod.
"And where is God?" Abbie finally got to the part that she was most impressed with from the earlier conversation from Sally that day.
"In the potty!" Ellie finally screamed with her arms wide apart in grandiose fashion.

Our table erupted in laughter as the tiny figured grinned covered her cherub face.