More canning today. I honestly don’t know what is more satisfying than preserving vegetables I grew myself. Every time one of those little self-sealing jar lids pops, it sounds like angels applauding, or something.
With Thing #1 in school now, I’m bonding with Thing #2 as a separate person in a way I really hadn’t before. His whole life he’s been “the little brother” and he has a distinctly different personality when he’s by himself. It’s interesting. He’s very self-sufficient in a way his big brother still isn’t. He likes to go off by himself and look at books, or play. He’s not at all into hanging around the kitchen while I’m cooking (although he loves doing laundry, for some reason). When he’s tired, he rests. He likes a cuddle. He doesn’t care about toilet training AT ALL, YOU CRAZY, WOMAN.
Which brings me to my little anecdote, which cracked me up even as it made me shake my head in frustration. This morning I was once again helping him sit on the toilet, asking him to please pee in the potty. Smiling and making a game of it, but still, he’s almost 2 1/2 and I’m tired of changing his nasty-ass diapers, you know? So the conversation went like this:
Me: “Hey buddy, if you pee in the potty, I will buy you some special new big-boy underwear!”
Him: “New unnaweah?”
Me: “Yes! With Thomas on them!!”
Him: “Yes! Thomas!!!”
Me: “Yes! Thomas!!! Maybe even Percy!!!! Or James the train!!!!!!!”
Him: *looking crafty* “Or… you kin buy me a shirt with Thomas”.
Upsold by a toddler. My nerves.