Bothered.

I met one of my girlfriends with her infant son at a music class yesterday. It was one of those classes where the instructors bring a bunch of percussion instruments - drums, sticks, bells, tambourines - for the kids to play, while the adults clap and sing along with the instructors. The instruments are there for everyone to use and share. Although possession rules get messy when you're dealing with toddlers, there didn't seem to be any major incidents with sharing and taking turns.

(But can someone please explain to me WHY these instructors bring hand drums and lots of sharp, wooden percussion instruments and drumsticks and then spend the majority of class trying to explain to the kids and their caregivers that they can't bang on the drums with the sticks because the drum heads will break?! I do not understand why they do this! But I digress.)

There was a lady next to us whose son looked to be a few months younger than mine. He danced around for a bit, sat on his mat playing with a stuffed snake that he'd found, and eventually dropped the snake and went to play with some instruments on the other side of the room.

A few minutes later, my son saw the snake and started playing with it. He was slithering it around on the floor, you know, like snakes do. Then he got down on the floor next to it and started pretending to be a snake too. So darned cute!

That's when the other little boy noticed that my son was playing with the stuffed snake and started walking over to him.

I thought, "This is going to be interesting," as I headed over to help manage the situation. For the last year, my son and I have been working on using his words to talk about his feelings when he's upset, to ask for a turn on the swings, to let a friend know when he's playing with something that he'll let them have a turn when he's finished. He's not perfect at it, which is why I'm there to help. But the other parent needs to be receptive to our efforts, or at the very least remain uninvolved. So I was glad that the other lady also got up and headed in their direction.

But when she got there, she took the snake out of my son's hands and told her boy, "Let's give this back to the little girl it belongs to." Then she walked away, with her son toddling after her.

I was stunned. And speechless. My son ran over to me and curled up in my lap, while I sat there trying to understand what had happened. I was just as confused as my son was. My initial reaction was, "What the sh*t was that all about?" My next reaction was, "XXXX XXX XXXXXX XXXX! XXXX XXXX XXXX XXXXX XXX!!!"

I couldn't believe that I'd just watched a grownup snatch a toy away from my son and I hadn't said anything. Hadn't I spent countless hours explaining to my son that we don't take things from other people? That we can say, "That toy belongs to that person over there. Will you give it back to her when you're finished?" That we need to learn how to ask for things if we want something, that it's never okay to grab something out of someone's hand?

Damn.

I totally failed yesterday. I failed to stand up for my son. I didn't say, "Excuse me, but my son was playing with that." I really wanted to give that lady a piece of my mind, but I didn't think of the right words until I was in the car on the way home. I'm still really angry, mostly because I could have done something, but I didn't. I'm not even talking about a beat-down. I might have modeled a more appropriate way to handle the situation, and yet I watched it happen and showed my son that I don't feel comfortable standing up for him, or myself.

You better damn well believe that isn't happening ever again. Not on my watch.

Time marches on

We've moved all of our boxes and furniture out, but there's one thing I can't move - the wall where we marked my son's height. I just noticed that it's time to measure him again. I also noticed that I didn't start marking the wall until just after his 2nd birthday. I guess he couldn't stand still prior to 9/1/2011?

Don't worry, I already have plans to recreate this chart in our new home. Sentimental much? ;-)

The Natural History Museum and the Butterfly Pavilion

I woke up with a grand plan - take my son to see the Butterfly Pavilion at the Natural History Museum and hopefully get some photos.

I know that butterflies aren't interesting to a little boy who loves construction vehicles, trains, dirt, and sticking things in his nose. So I tempted him with promises of butterflies AND dinosaurs. He agreed, and we were soon on our way.

The Butterfly Pavilion did not disappoint. We arrived early and it was an overcast morning, so many of the butterflies were resting and waiting for it to get warmer before opening their wings.

We even saw caterpillars munching on leaves and tiny little eggs deposited on plants throughout the exhibit.

Of course, all of that happened in the span of 5 minutes. Immediately after walking into the tented area, my son began looking around for dinosaurs. I explained that the dinosaurs were inside the museum and that we would visit them after we saw the butterflies. His response?

He pointed and said, "Dere's butterflies, Mommy. I want to see dinosaurs now."

Hard to argue with that. 

Here you go, son.

Mack?!

Anyone who knows my son also knows that he's a huge fan of the Disney Cars movies. He doesn't get to watch the movies often, but he's definitely seen them both enough times.

I was driving today and heard him in the backseat quoting the movie. 

I'm no Mack...I'm a Peterbilt!*

That sentence came out of nowhere. We'd been listening to music, so I wasn't sure what he was talking about. I looked in my rear-view mirror at him and he looked back at me. "What did you say?"

I'm a Peterbilt. Look, Mommy. And he pointed out the window.

I swear, that kid makes me laugh sometimes.

*The actual quote is a little different, but it's close enough. 

He named that tune in one note.

Bah bop ah dah.

For the last few weeks, my son and I have been listening to Justin Roberts and The Not Ready for Naptime Players every time we're in the car. I don't mind at all, because the music and lyrics are fun, catchy, danceable, and ridiculously addictive. I've even been listening to the CDs when my son's not around. But I haven't been paying as much attention to the music as my little 2 year-old Justin Roberts fan.

Bah bop ah dah.

Today, my son wanted to hear a particular song. He called it Bah bop ah dah. It sounded sort of familiar, maybe "Koala Bear Diner" in toddler-speak? I skipped over to that track.

No Mommy, I want Bah bop ah dah.

Uh-oh. "Hippopotamus"? "Old Pajamas"? I started flipping through the tracks.

No! Bah bop ah dah!

At that point, I was reminded of one of my favorite "Married With Children" episodes, where Al trys to remember the name of a song he heard on the radio. Hmm Hmm Him, he hums to everyone, and no one can help him figure out what song it is.



Anyway, my little one was getting more and more agitated, so I decided to scan through all of the songs to see if we could find the one he wanted to hear. No such luck. We got home and sat in the garage for ten more minutes before I finally abandoned the search. A full nuclear meltdown resulted, and I rushed upstairs to put him down for his much-needed nap.

Later, as we were driving home from dinner, my husband turned on the radio.

I want Bah bop ah dah, Daddy.

I laughed. "Good luck with that," I told dear ole hubs. "I've already tried every song on the CDs."

"Maybe it's someone else?"

"I don't think so. That's all we've been listening to lately."

We started scanning each song again, letting them play for about 10 seconds so we could feel confident in eliminating them from the running. My son was sitting in the back, saying, "No, das not Bah bop ah dah,"  after we played each song. "No, das not it. No."

We had shuffled through about 20 tracks when all of a sudden....

A new song came on. Barely one note played. Then we heard, "Yes, that's Bah bop ah dah!"

Dear ole hubs and I looked at each other. "What?" he asked me. "Is he serious?" We listened to the first few verses.

"Oh. My. Gosh. Yeah, " I replied. "He's right. That's what they sing at the end." We both turned around to look at our son, who began singing along.

Ba ba ba Bah bop ah dah da da…

Amazing. 


* In case you're wondering, it was the song "Picture Day," off the album Way Out. You can hear a preview of the song here. But really, just go ahead and buy the album, or at least go check it out from the library. Even if you don't have kids. You'll come back here and thank me. I guarantee it.

The word I'm looking for is "aAARRrrgGGGhHH!!"

I don't know exactly what happened, but my son took my camera while I was making dinner and this is what I got back. I heard a "thunk!", which is never a good sound when toddlers are around. I didn't start hyperventilating until I saw the inside of my lens rolling around on the floor.

Luckily for all parties, I was later able to snap it back together. And I even think it still works!

Humbled by a pair of googly eyes.

Today, my son and I were working on some arts and crafts. His job: create a monster from a dried gourd, pipe cleaners, tissue paper and glue (and a little help from Mama). When I handed him the googly eyes to glue on, he stuck them on the bottom of the gourd, as you see in the photo. I started to say, "No, not there, put them here," and then, thankfully, I caught myself and decided to shut my fat trap. Do I really know better than him about where the eyes on a monster are?

He has a pretty good imagination, that one. And I absolutely adore what came out of it today.

The hardest thing about reality is returning to it after an hour inside your child's mind.  ~Robert Brault

* Thanks to the Japanese American National Museum and Target for hosting the free Monster Mash event today!

Sardine Rillettes - French Fridays with Dorie

I was happy when I saw this week's recipe. When I first got my cookbook, I went through it and marked off all the recipes I wanted to try, and this was one of them. The dear ole hubs loves sardines and I love simple recipes. Win-win.


But I started getting nervous after reading some of the other bloggers. I've never actually tasted a sardine before. And I'm still not totally sure what rillettes are. I was imagining a spread similar to the heavenly smoked trout dip they used to serve at Houston's when I worked there.


Well, my guess wasn't too far off, but there's definitely something *special* about these rillettes.

Why should I have been nervous? I eat sushi, for crack sake! And I'm not talking about California rolls or Philly rolls, as good as they are. Hubs and I want to go to an omakase where, for the first course, they'll test us with soupbowls of extra fresh fish before they start sending over the good stuff. We just saw Jiro Dreams of Sushi and we drooled throughout the entire movie. So if I can't stomach a measly sardine, then what? Our dreams are dashed. Look for us at the conveyor belt sushi bar.

I decided to use only one can of sardines - why waste two? - and I went with chives for the fresh herbs. I couldn't be sure how the dill or cilantro would taste with the sardines, so I wanted to play it safe. The recipe wasn't complicated - the hardest part was the tasting. After I added the sardines, I tried a teeny bit to see if I needed to add more salt. Hmmm...not too bad. Kind of okay. And then, all of a sudden, I started to feel nauseated. Ack! I knew it was just my head and my stomach in a battle of wills, but it was best not to think about it or eat any more. Cover and chill and worry about it later. 

All day today, the little bowl in the fridge taunted me. If I wanted to get my blog post up on French Friday, I'd have to taste the damn recipe and take pictures. I could wait no longer.

I plated some crackers and rillettes to take photos and my son came right over. "What's that?" he asked. "I want."

"Are you sure?" I imagined the face he'd make when he tried one. I hoped he wouldn't spit it out onto the floor.


"I want." He grabbed a rillette and shoved it into his mouth. I grabbed a napkin.


"Mmmmm!" His mouth was full of sardines, onions, cream cheese and crackers. Did I mention, he's 2?


"Seriously? You like it?" Shock and awe.


"Yes. More, please."


It's official. My son is a foodie in the making. I'm so proud that he's not afraid to try new foods, but it makes one thing clear. I'm totally pathetic. I spread some rillettes on a cracker and popped it in my mouth. Hmmm...not too bad. Kind of okay. And then, all of a sudden, I realized he was right. It was good. 


The rillettes benefited from the overnight flavor meld. Half of the bowl was gone before dear ole hubs even came home. And he - the only person in the house whom I thought would like this dish - was like, meh. Ha!

Oh, and that *special* something about this dish? Well, it's certainly...aromatic. I think pressing the plastic wrap against the surface of the rillettes is really to keep the odor from permeating your whole refrigerator. Be forewarned!


See what the other bloggers thought here. Surprisingly, it looks like a majority of the others liked it too!


The verdict: grade: B, I'd probably make this again as written, but I'd definitely like to try some other versions - salmon, tuna and smoked trout come to mind.

Thanks for reading, and happy eats!

Shared interests

My son and I agree that Mater and Finn are the coolest characters from the last Cars movie, since being a spy is so dangerous. They make it look too easy.