I love this picture of Samuel because he is generally smiling and this shows a different side of him. The "don't bug me" side. Although I should say that as he nears 1 year old (on Easter) he is developing an expert ability to complain without words. I remind myself here it is a skill to be celebrated and not something to complain about WITH words. Emotional IQ, that's what Fernando calls things like that.
I will write a story here about Sam that it has taken me several weeks to be able to write. Some of the things people say, "You'll laugh about this someday," you actually do have to wait awhile to laugh about.
Miranda had just hopped off the potty when I put her in timeout for some reason or other and sent her to sit on her bed. Usually after she finishes using the potty she goes through an entire postscript of removing the little Dora seat, closing the lid(the bold font should be taken as foreshadowing), flushing (it takes both hands. Don't take flushing with one hand for granted people. Appreciate your strength!), moving her little step stool, and washing her hands (there must be suds or it has not been done properly for Miranda). Well, she must have done something I was seriously set on correcting, even though of course I'm sure it was really important since I can't remember it now, because I sent her STRAIGHT to time out without allowing her to go through that postpotty ritual.
I was deep into defending my thesis in the "time out talk" in her room when I realized...hmmm....I have two children. News flash. Where is Sammy?
I then said aloud, "Where is Sammy?!" and went to the bathroom. Yes, he was playing in Miranda's pee pee and perhaps that would be enough for some people reading this for me to end and have a good story on my hands, and how I wish it were so. But NO.
I took his hands out and picked him up only to snatch a glimpse of something black and silver sunk to the bottom of the latrine.
It was our new digital camera.
AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
All thoughts of germs on my little child and myself evaporated as I plunged my hand in and pulled out the camera by the strap. Near tears and fighting the feeling of sending my innocent little boy to time out as well I rinsed the germs off as gingerly as I could and set about trying to dry the camera. Perhaps I should have paused to celebrate the pace of Sammy's exploit...going to my purse, drawing the most expensive and fragile object to his little mits, and dropping it happily with a sploosh before his mommy had even launched into "What should we do next time, Miranda?" in the neighboring room. What finesse! What dexterity! What creativity! None of these thoughts went through my head as I blow dried the soggy piece of technology.
Of course I removed all the innards, opened all the hatches, and shook and pressed all the moisture out that I could. To no avail. Nothing could coax the on button to affect any function of the camera.
I waited all day to try again. That night the camera turned on, and then zapped off again with a dramatic buzz, just to make a point. The happy ending and the only part of the story which allows me to write about it at this juncture is that the next morning I was sitting at the computer before the kids woke up, sending an email for work, when Fernando stuck his head in and took a picture of me. It took me a minute for the blissful realization to set in, and then I yelped, and fired 20 questions at him about if everything worked. Of course at the beginning he said, "Yes, everything works," but I still had to ask about each specific function. Why did I do that? Perhaps the topic of another post.
So, yes, Sammy, although he brings nothing but joy and happiness to our lives, is still a boy.
8 comments:
Sharon, this story is just so funny. I'm sorry to laugh at your expense, but am also quite impressed with your ability to plunge into the toilet without a thought. I always wondered if being a mother somehow makes you a little less grossed out by your kids bodily fluids, and you seem to prove that it has!
(I'm not sure I have developed that specific motherly attribute yet....)
You're an inspiration!
Sharon, oh Sharon. This story is truly horrifying. The most destructive my son has gotten so far is pulling down each and every individual blind on our sliding glass door (and they are those huge vertical ones so you know the kids got some muscle). Zander is also obsessed with the bathroom and especially when people are using the toilet (don't ask but he thinks it is hilarious), I will have to be extra careful to avoid this fate.
I must inquire, everytime you bring the camera to your face to capture on of those moments do you detect a certain odor that would remind you of a less than desirable one?
Sharon and Fernando!
I am so excited to have found you two!...thanks to Linda, Brett, and Decker who are already on board with "the Peruvians"! Sharon, you are blazing quite a trail for all of us mothers to follow! What we all wouldn't do to rescue a drowning cube of stainless steel technology...not to mention the milk money for 6 months!
Kristin Dahlquist Nelson :-)
I actually gasped out loud, then I started over to read it aloud to Lindsay, who came and was looking over my shoulder and I asked her, "Are you reading ahead?" And she said, "No." and I said, "Cause you can, I don't have to read out loud." And she told me to keep going so I did and I was reading in my best reading voice and I was really into it and I was at the part where you were defending you theses and Lindsay gasped out loud. She was secretly reading ahead, knowing that she wasn't suppose to and even with all that pressure the picture of Sammy pulling out the camera from the unflushed toilet was too much of a shock and she reviled herself.
Anyway, now we're not speaking because she deliberately read ahead after I asked her if she was (and she said she wasn't) and I wanted to thank you for writing so well that you not only captivate and compel honest readers but also expose dishonest ones.
...and by 'reviled' I meant 'revealed', although she may have been reviled by her dishonestly.
My heart sunk when I found out about your digital camera! I definitely would've punched Brenan in the face then. Your courage is beyond words.
Sharon,
I knew that one day your inner hick would reveal itself. You said "innards". Only hicks say innards. I use it all the time, usually in reference to road kill, mounted animals, and intestinal problems. You used it in reference to a camera, but you still used it and therefore our bond has been strengthend.
Okay, I think the blog post is so much more hilarious than you telling me in person. I loved it!! Greg and I laughed out loud. Thank you, Sammy, for your little antics that keep us all laughing.
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