Baking Day

Beth (our upstairs neighbor and good friend) came down yesterday with Ben, who is the same age as Maggie, and we tried out some bread recipes I had found online. We've both been baking our own bread for a few months now and were looking for some more variety. We made two loaves of "Tasty White Bread," one loaf of "Honey White Bread," two loaves of "Italian Cheese Bread," and two pans of cinnamon rolls with the remaining dough from the Honey White Bread. The cinnamon rolls aren't the most beautiful but they were delicious. Below is the fruit of our labors.
And here is the fruit of our loins (minus Tjabe).
They were wanting to be occupied at a somewhat critical point in our baking, so we let them enjoy a Baby Einstein movie. Maggie was intrigued.
And here's one of my favorite pictures of Ben from yesterday.

Musings on Charmin

I don't think many people recognize the power toilet paper has over a three-year-old. It has unequaled capabilities to lure him to itself, promising limitless happiness and causing him to throw aside with reckless abandon past admonishments and discipline, all to enjoy the sensation of unrolling the entire roll and dropping 66 linear feet of two-ply softness into the toilet bowl. Few things so irresistible can be bought for under ten dollars.

Honest Manipulation

Last night after being in bed for a while, Tjabe started knocking on his door. Sam went to see him and, upon opening his door, asked him why he was out of bed. Tjabe immediately began crying. It took Sam a little bit to calm him down, and when he finally asked him to say what was wrong "in his big boy voice without whining," Tjabe replied:
"I wanted to see Daddy, so I said 'Waaa-aaa' so Daddy would come in and ask me what was wrong."

Any Volunteers?

So, after wrestling with the blankets on our bed for a while, Tjabe just stood up, made a deep hacking sound, leaned over, and spit on our bedroom carpet. After telling him that was disgusting and he should never do it again, anywhere, I have to wonder... who taught him that?

Hmmm

This morning I opened my underwear drawer to find, mixed in with my lacy... unmentionables, a stash of small toy trucks, a miniature John Deere tractor, and a rock. I love having a three-year-old boy.

I love it when

• Tjabe calls Maggie "sweetheart"
• Maggie smiles when I start belting out Abba
• Tjabe tells me "Good job Mama! You did it!" when I get the laundry folded
• Maggie laughs
• The pile of projects on my desk is only two deep
• Sam gets home and Tjabe runs out to meet him at the car, while Maggie flashes him a big smile when he gets inside
• I am showered, have exercised, have the kids fed and dressed, and have eaten breakfast myself, all before 9 am
• I wake up in the morning to a clean kitchen
  
• I can get a month supply of diapers for BOTH kids, on sale for only $60!
  

A Double Standard

Tjabe has recently taken to telling us "No, Mom (or Dad)" when we tell him we're going to do something, probably because I feel like we are telling him no constantly. He has to apologize to us for being disrespectful. This is the precursor to the conversation I had with him this morning:
T: I'll play Clifford on the computer now, okay?
Me: No, we're not going to play on the computer now.
T: Mo-om (in that teenage, eye-rolling or reprimanding sort of tone), you need to 'pologize to me. You said no.
Me: Actually honey, Mommy and Daddy are in charge of you, so we can tell you no when it is best for you. You can't tell Mommy and Daddy no, though.
T: But Mo-om, you need to 'pologize to me! You said no. Cause I want to play on the 'puter but you told me no. So you need to 'pologize.
Well, I didn't apologize, and he got over it. For now. I'm sure the issue will come up again.