Say CHEESE

As promised (and better late than never), here are a few of the pictures from the Mother's Day photo session. I have also added a few pictures to the photo badge on the left column of the page.

Hitting on the 1 Hour Photo Girl

We had Ben's pictures taken two weeks ago so we could give the grandmas updated pictures of their favorite 2 year old. ben was in rare form at the photo session and really put the photographer to the test... he was much more interested in all the other kids and their pictures than he was in smiling nicely for his own. We did manage to get several cute pictures, though (which I will post later). Below is the one that is still cracking me up.

If you watched Seinfeld, you know that George Costanza had Kramer take sexy photos of himself so that the 1 hour photo girl would see them as they were developed. Here is one of the photos:

And now, here's Ben's version of the picture:

Priceless, huh?

Calls it as he sees it

Tonight at bedtime:

H: Time to pick out a book.
B: I'm 'Lighting the Fween'
D: Come on, Buddy. Find a book to read.
H: Ben. Choose a book.
B: I'm a famous race car. Here I go.
H: Seriously. Book. Now.
B: Woah! I'm fast.
H: Benjamin. Find a book to read or Mommy and Daddy will turn off the lights and go.
B: You're bossy to me.

Lighting The Fween

I realized today that it's been awhile since I wrote about the crazy stuff Ben says. Here are a few of our recent favorites:


First conversation of the morning (as I opened his door):
B: Mommy, you came back.
H: Good morning, Buddy.
B: I like you when you come back. It's so sad when you slam me in my room.

Last Friday, when I picked him up from school:
B: I'm glad you here, Mommy. I really need coffee. Can we go?
H: Do you want to go to Starbucks with Aunt Katie and Baby Hannah?
B: Yes. And drink lots of coffee.
(A new drive-thru Starbucks just opened by our house. Ben gets a "chocolate coffee"--choclate milk-- and sips it like a good soccer mom as we cruise down the road.)

Dinner conversation:
B: Daddy, are you the boss?
D: I dunno, am I? (I'm sure he would have said, "yes" had I not been sitting there)
B: Nope. Sorry. Abby's the boss.

Talking to the animals
H: What does a donkey say?
B: YEE-HAW! (as he demonstrates donkey kicks)

A week long, several times a day inability to communicate:
B: Mommy, it's "mountains of dookie."
H: What? Mountains of dookie? (as I thought: piles of poo?)
B: No Mommy. "MOUNTAINS of DOOOOOKIE"
H: Ummm.. can you show me?
B: No. Mommy-- just say, "OH, MOUNTAINS of DOOOKIE. I know you mean, Ben."
H: Are the mountains big?
B: No, Mommy, listen. MOUNTAINS... MOUNTAINS OF DOOOOOOOOKIE. You know?
After many unsuccessful attempts (a whole mountain of them), I finally heard what he was saying:
B: Mommy. Tyrone. MOUNTAINS OF DOOOOKIE. With Pablo.
H: Ooooooh! Mounties on Duty. (from the Backyardigans TV show) Oh my God, is that what you've been trying to tell me? Mounties on Duty.
B: Hooray! Clap for Mommy. That's it! That's it! Mountains of dookie.

Our newest obsession:
B: Lighting the Fween. Let's do it!
H: What?
B: Lighting the Fween. Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch!
H: What's wrong? Did you get hurt?
B: No. Let's watch it.
H: Watch what?
B: Lighting the Fween. The fastest racer.
H: Oh! Do you want to watch Cars?
B: Yep. Lighting the Fween is the red guy.
(Lightning McQueen is the main character in the Disney movie, Cars. You know, Lighting the Fween. In the opening scene, he blows out his tires and says, "ouch, ouch" as he crosses the finish line.)

Nancy Regan is so disappointed

In the words of a former first lady, I'd like to remind the creators of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that we all agreed to "Just Say No to Crack" (although it is interesting to note that, evidently, TMNT friend, April O'Neil, goes comando).

Mom My Ride

So funny and so true.
(Thanks, Jeremy)

Even though my ride hasn't been "mom-ed", I do have a "back-car-seat driver" to help me find my way on the busy, busy streets of Suburbia. Yesterday, a woman rolled through a 4-way stop and I had to brake quickly to avoid a crash. Thank God my back-car-seat driver alarm went off...
B: MOMMY!
H: What?
B: WHAT YOU DO? THAT WAS BUMPY!
H: Mommy just had to stop fast so I didn't crash with that lady.
B: YOU'RE GOING TO CRASH THIS VAN. MY BLUE VAN.
H: No, really. It wasn't that close. Besides, it wasn't my fault. (do you like how I'm trying to defend my actions?)
B: THAT'S NOT SAFE DRIVING. THESE STREETS ARE DANGEROUS.
H: Seriously. It was no big deal. The lady made a mistake (I was careful to aviod the word "accident" for fear of how the story might get twisted later). She just forgot to stop. Mommy didn't even road rage at her. It's no big deal.
B: MOMMY, I'm NOT happy about this.

After a few moments of silence, during which I can only imagine he was analyzing every road rule he could think of, a little voice from the backseat said..
B: Her just make a mistake. Mommy not rage.

That's right, love. Where would I be without my back-car-seat driver? Don't know how anyone drives around without one.

Boy Mom of the Year RUNNER UP

On Wednesday, Ben and I made this season's inaugural trip to DeAnna Rose Farmstead. They've added a new dairy barn that has AIR CONDITIONING, a snack bar, sweet baby cows, and a moooo-vie theater where kids can watch a short video on how milk ends up in those plastic jugs at the grocery store. All our favorite animals were there, many with new babies. The buffalo (who Ben calls "Ed") delighted Ben by staring "right at me, mama."

Spending time with him there made me realize how much he's grown and changed since our last visit there in October. No longer was he too short to reach the door of the goat pen, no longer did he want to make the sounds of each animal. In fact, when I said, "Look, Ben! There's a chicken. Cluck, cluck.." He put his hand in my face and said, "Uh, Mommy. We don't need that." Then he said, "I really like this rooster." I guess I'll have to up my "barnyard game" a bit before our next visit. How about we compare and contrast the quality and physical features of the various breeds of chickens. No? Maybe he'll enjoy a cost analysis on "free range" chicken raising vs. those enormous industrial Tyson-type chicken farms.

Riley and Jill went to the farm with us because it was a beautiful day and because Jill and I are united in our belief that you have to find some way to pass the time from 10:30 until 1:00 that ensures your child will take a nap. I have to say, Jill gets the "Boy Mom of the Year Award." Seriously. The farm has this little pond that is stocked with some sort of fish (unless it's shrimp on a platter with cocktail sauce or a goldfish in a bowl, I don't really know my fish). Jill says, "Do you guys want to go fishing?" I made a face that translated to, "Sorry. I'm a princess. I don't do worms. What if he caught something? Then I'd have to touch a fish to throw it back into the water. Plus, you have to be still and quiet to fish. Nope. Nothing in the whole fishing game for me."

Little did I know that Jill not only knows what she's doing, but actually enjoys fishing. I watched in amazement as she ripped worms in half, carefully stuck them on the hook, helped the boys cast and willingly participated in the whole gig. She even gave them pointers about where the good spots would be and how to expertly reel in a "whopper". If she had performed open heart surgery right there on the little bridge, I don't think I could have been more amazed.

Ben really seemed to enjoy fishing, but Riley was the one who caught a fish. Truth be told, I think fishing might be genetic and Ben must be my kid. He was WAY more interested in sticking the fishing pole as far as he could into the water until I'd grab it away for fear he'd drop it. Oh, and did I mention the cool gravel on the little island? Again, way better than actual fishing. I think he was up for fishing until he realized it is a quiet, still task.... 2 adjectives not synonymous with my charming kiddo. Still, it made for some darling pictures.