As Promised, Mychael's Cheese Story

The other night, I was telling my cousin, Mindi, about this funny blog I had read about a constipated preemie baby, and it reminded me about something my daughter, Mychael, had said when she was just a little girl. It still cracks me up - and if you know Mykie, once you hear this story, you'll most likely think it is just so "her." So I was re-telling the story, and we were all laughing, and Mychael said, "You should put that story on your blog, Mom!" I told her I would, and as I promised yesterday, I am posting it today - and even though this happened probably seven or more years ago, it's still pretty dang funny. Either that, or I have a seriously warped sense of humor and am raising heathens for children. Both options are equally plausible.

OK - imagine Mychael at the age of about five. Round face, chubby cheeks, and sparkling eyes full of mischief, and W - A - Y too smart for her own good!! We had the whole family running around doing some errands of some sort - I don't even remember what we were doing or where we were going, except that we'd been out for awhile and still had more places to go. The kids were all starting to get tired and hungry and cranky, and I think one of the places were going to go was maybe to dinner - or it could've been that, at that point in time, we couldn't afford to go out and feed everyone in a restaurant that day, or something. For whatever reason, going through a drive-through at a fast food joint just wasn't an option. So instead, we stopped by a grocery store, and I ran inside and got some snacks for everyone to share, to hold off the grumbly tummies until we could finish our errands and go get "real" food.

I ended up getting a bag of cheese curds. It's quite possible I also got some Gator-Aid and some pretzels or something like that, too, but all I really remember is the cheese curds. Why? Because my kids were shoveling them down like mad. You would've thought that this was the first food they'd had in days by the way they were hoovering them up. So finally I had to say, "Hey, guys - slow down with the cheese curds. If you eat too much cheese, it could make you constipated!"

Mychael says, "What's constipated?"

I reply, "It's what they call it when you can't poop, or if it's too hard to poop, for a long time. Sometimes cheese can make it hard too poop, if you eat too much."

Mychael then says, "How do you fix it?"

"Well," I say, "it depends on how bad it is. If you're only a little bit constipated, you can just eat something that gives you the poos, like lots of cherries or some prune juice or something."

Ever the curious one, Mychael says, "What if it's bad?"

As I am thinking of how best to describe the process of suppositories and/or enemas to a five-year-old, she answers her own question: "They probably stick a fire hose up your butt and blast it out, huh?"

Why, yes, Mychael. That is precisely what they do! More or less. Anyway, hope the story was worth the wait.....

Learning and growing...

I was reading the blog of my dear friend (and cousin), Mindi, today (here's a link: http://www.jmfletcherfamily.blogspot.com/). She was writing about her little boy's attempts to wipe his own bum after pooping in the potty (he's not even 4 yet), and it reminded me of this story from my own experiences:

When one of my twins, Mychael, started talking at about 18 months old, she never stopped. She sort of "skipped over" the one- and two-word phrases and jumped right into full sentences. So, one evening shortly after she started talking - she couldn't have been much more than two - I had her in the bathtub with her sister. I had filled the tub up to roughly their armpits, scrubbed them all and washed their hair, etc., and was ready to get them out. I got Bretten out first, wrapped her in a towel, and sent her on to her dad. I hadn't let the water out of the tub yet because I didn't want Mychael to get cold while she was waiting for me to finish with her sister. Mykie, however, anticipating that she would soon get out, stood up in the tub, anyway. She was kind of crouched down with her hands still in the water, when suddenly she straightened, turned to me, and with a look of wonder on her face, said, "Hey!! I've got a HOLE in my bum!"

I don't miss all the work of those earlier days, but I do miss witnessing that constant joy of discovery on little people's faces. Every day would bring something new! As my girls get older, they are still learning, of course (I used to have a boss who said "learning is growing, and if you're not growing, you're dying." I think he was right!) but apparently they get used to it or something because they don't get as excited by their new discoveries as they once did. Now they just have their noses attached to computer screens or buried in cell phones as their thumbs text away. Next I guess it's probably school dances and boyfriends. I can't wait to tell the "hole in my bum" story then....