The cubbies lost.

Crystal (a first year) and Brad (her husband) came over for the Louisville game yesterday (they are from Louisville). Crystal had an accident earlier in the week so Brad handed off his spring training tickets to watch Colorado Rockies and the Cubs play. The game started at 1:10 today. We rode the city bus

from the Target parking lot to the front of the s

tadium. It was so convenient. We find our seats (behind 2nd base). A moment later I hear someone yell my nam

e. It was my friend Jenna (fourth year). She and her daughter were sitting a row behind us. This worked out well. We each got to leave our "mom bags" with the other as we ran to grab snacks (and there were a lot of snacks). But, Turner stayed for the entire game in the sun taking it all in.

The most memorable part, I'm sure , is the cotton candy on a stick. As soon as we walked in he spotted it. I had wanted to hold off on that at least until the third inning...it didn't happen. He chose the blue one; the lady let us cut in front of all the people waiting for snow cones. In less than two minutes we were back at our seats. For the next inning, he was busy, pausing once to offer me a bite. He thoroughly enjoyed it.

And, in the process, he made friends with those sitting around us. Two rows of people were giggling as we made our way down the bleachers, me reminding Turner not to touch anyone.

His face was so blue. The picture really doesn't capture how sticky a kid can get in the desert sun with blue cotton candy and a water bottle. Really. We make friends in the line for the family restroom. One mom is telling her daughter she has to come in the bathroom with her or she otherwise "will not count as family." Another mom is listening to Turner talk about his birthday. Everyone we came in contact with that was told that his birthday was April 2nd. If they did not react with surprise, as MariJayne did, then he would say, "That is real soon you know."

As we waited for the shuttle to return us to our car, Turner talked with a little girl and entertained her grandmother with talk of the Cardinals and the Cubbies. Moments before we found ourself in line as we walked across the parking lot, Turner asked me if our team won. I said, "No. The Cubbies lost. But, that happens." So, when we are waiting in line, the grandmother asks, "Did your team win?"

"No."

"Oh. Are you a Cubs fan?"

"I don't know. But the Cubbies lost."

She offers some condolence. A few moments later he picks up some dirt, lets it slide through his fingers, and then walks beside me. He turns to the lady, who says good bye to him as he walks up the line, and says, "Well my Cardinals won their game." I'm sure not everyone appreciated that, but it was really funny to be surrounded by all these hard core Arizona supporters.

Punch glove action.

Chores.

Turner will soon be the big man on campus. A four year old who gets to stay with Ms. Carolyn (because he probably won’t be in school this summer so I didn’t want him to start a new class for just a couple of months. Plus, I’m pretty sure Turner thinks Ms. Carolyn is his personal companion through the Catalina school system.). So, he will soon be four and is consistently asking to have things bought for him. This makes me think it is time for an allowance and, thus, time for household responsibilities. This morning I explain the process of allowance and chores to him. I tell him to think about it today so we can make a chart later about what he should do each week to earn his allowance. When I pick him up from school, I ask him what he thinks his four-year-old chores should be. He thinks. Then he says, “Picking up my room,” which we had talked about this morning as an example chore, “and….” Long pause “I think when I get my wooden sword I should be in charge of cutting down the trees. Well, not cutting them down, but trimming them up. Yeah, I think that should be my sponsibility, slicing the trees with my wooden sword.”

A marriage proposal.

Turner is in the trike yard when I arrived to get him. He is wearing Andy’s sunglasses from the 90s and is surrounded by his posse. Erin greets me first.
“Turner and I are getting married.” Erin, the blond with a page-boy haircut who wants to be a rockstar mom when she grows up.
“Oh yeah,” I say.
“Yeah,” she says.
“Yeah,” Turner chimes in.
“And,” Erin moves close to my face and puts two fingers in the air, “we are going to have two girls and one boy, “ she throws a third finger into the air.
“Wow. Really. In this economy?”
Silence.
“Mom, the girls are gonna be twins.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Erin nods emphatically. Then she leans her hand on Turner’s shoulder.
He shrugs it off and says, “The boy will be the baby.”
“Well, have you all considered names for these children, or are you keeping that a secret?”
Erin pipes up, “The girls will be called Heart and Butterflower.”
“What interesting and beautiful names Erin.” She smiles, and then sits back down on her trike. “What will you name the boy?”
With grave disinterest, Erin says, “Oh, I don’t know about boy names.”
“Well. Maybe Turner could name the boy.”
Her face lights up, “Yeah. He should name the boy.”
“So, Turner, what will you name the boy?”
“Kalongo.” This is Todd’s Capoeira name.

I talk to Ms. Carolyn this morning and tell her Erin and Turner are getting married. She smiles, “Yeah, yesterday Erin required to hold Turner’s hand as his partner.” So I relay the story to her. She smiles. “Yes,” she says, “they are so sweet together too. Turner is such a nurturer.”

Mushrooms.

I love mushrooms. I mean, I really love them. So, I eat them often. Last night as Turner and I ate dinner I offered him a mushroom. He looked at me in such a serious way, and then he put his fork down. His elbow hit the table as he turned face to the ceiling in exasperation, "Mom. You must stop eating mushrooms."

I laughed. I was so surprised by this outpour of emotion.

"Why is that?"

"Because," he picks his fork back up and then squints his eyes as though he is 'winking', "because of that Mom."

"Because of what?"

"Because it will make your eyes," he makes the motion with his eyes again, "all squinty. My friend Alexis ate mushrooms once, and it did that to her eyes." Alexis is a girl at Turner's school.

"And she is certain that mushrooms made her eyes squinty?"

"Oh no. She doesn't even know it."

"So mushrooms made her eyes squinty, but no one else can see it but you?"

He thinks for a minute. "And Hassana. He sees it too sometimes."

"Does Hassana eat mushrooms?"

"Mom. I just don't want to eat any of those. Okay?"

"Okay. That's all you gotta say."

"Yeah. I know."

Desert museum.

At Sports for Tots this afternoon.

Snakes at the Desert Museum Saturday.

Check out the snake snapping at us. That was posed. :)

Paleontologist
The Reward
"My legs are too tired."

Chewing gum protocol.

I remember when Taylor was just at that point where dresses no longer swung to her knees, but brushed closer to her ankles. It was the point when her hair finally grew and she all of a sudden seemed like a little lady instead of this child. She always had opinions, and she always wanted gum. I was surprised when my sister happily handed it over one day in the car. Now, I know why it was such a reflex. Chewing Gum to a 4 year old (and almost 4 year old) is an instant silencer. Not that either Amy and I would *ever* want to discourage our kids from talking, but sometimes a little peace and quiet is okay. My experiences with chewing gum and Turner have been relatively positive as we've been on airplanes and in grown-up meetings (the two places I reserve for gum use because I don't want to abuse this golden egg). The last time he had gum was two weeks ago when we went to the Clinic. I didn't notice any slips ups with it. We got home, in the tub (hours after the gum was gone), and found watermelon, sugarless Trident stuck in Turner's hair. After a quick haircut and lots of tears, Turner agreed that chewing gum should stay in the mouth.

Today, I get him from Andy's and we go get a donut (and, no, one donut is never enough), drop by the grocery for milk, and we head home. After his bath and dinner, Turner asks for some gum for dessert. He opens the package and digs out a piece. We talk about how it looks different than the Trident (this is Wrigley's). He pops it into his mouth. I settle him at the table with scissors and cutting material and glue. I clean up the kitchen. He is talking a lot about this and that while I wash the dishes. Just as I am sitting down at the table he says, "My gum turned red after I chewed it."

"Red. Really?"

"Yeah."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw it." He pauses. The he quickly says, "What? Don't you have eyes in your mouth too Mom? You know. The kind that lets you see what color stuff is?"

"No. I don't. Do you remember our agreement that you should keep your gum in your mouth?"

"Of course Mom. I told you that I have something inside my mouth. You just don't have it. Maybe it's cuz you're a girl, but I can see the colors of things in my mouth."

Our first quiche.

It is March here, but it sure feels like summer (at least the summer we knew in Kentucky). The sun is bright. The wind breezy. 80 degrees. The outside begs for company, and the park beckons small children from all over Tucson to gather together. Yesterday Turner and I fed the ducks and played chase at the park where we had his birthday party last year.
Today we went to the "big" park so he could ride his bike and rush his car down the slides. There, he met a little boy named Ha'ini (as best I could understand) whose dad was sleeping in his truck (seriously). I think he was Somoan, and he had a speech impediment. He talked very little at first, but quickly he warmed to Turner and they played all kinds of pretend. Ha'Ini said he was four when I guessed. I'm not sure if either one of us was certain that was correct. When we left, Turner wanted to give him his sunglasses (but the little boy said he had a Diego pair at home so he didn't need two pairs). This is when I notice the child has a large scar down the side of his face. It makes me wonder if his hearing is damaged and that is why he speaks in the way he does. Turner and I spent 40 minutes playing with this little boy, and his father woke up only as we were leaving. The sun was going down already.
Turner and run/ride back to the car and head home to make an egg pie. I've never made a quiche before, and I'm not really sure why I chose now to make it. I don't really eat quiche, but it sounded good. Turner and I get eggs all over the place. I fry him some "Grandmother Bacon" (that 's what I call it because it is bacon that GM told us about). We dump eggs into the pie crust. I get eggs all over the oven (recipe called for 3 eggs. I thought 4 was better. Now I understand - there is not enough room in the crust for 4). Turner says, after I have shown frustration, spilled more, and have started mopping eggs up, "Mom! Be careful. There are eggs falling outta that pie." He was engaged in lining pretzel sticks across the counter.
We do a bath. I realize I have no soap left. Turner looks at the little nubbin and says, "Mom. I will use that little baby soap all up" he throws his hands into the air "it will take that to put soap all over my body" he pauses "well, I guess I'll just have to play instead." We find hand soap and it suds just fine.
We sit down to dinner. Quiche, broccoli, spinach fry, raisin toast, and GM's bacon. Turner eats all of the bacon (5 slices) first. Then three stalks of broccoli. Half the raisin toast. I ask him to try the quiche. He does. It is still too warm and not yet solid enough. Cooked but not set. He sticks his tongue to his plate and relieves himself of the egg pie. "Yuhhck. That tastes like um milk." "Yeah. It is creamy." Then I tell him the ingredients and remind him of our process of making it. He eats more toast and some green things. I ask him to try one more bite of the quiche once it is set. He does. Again, he does not like it. "Mom" he shakes his head "I just am not going to like that tonight. It does not taste like eggs or cream or anything that tasteses good."