Magnifying Glasses

So the local zoo has a ‘trade-in’ counter where you can bring things like corks, cereal bags, and other items that cannot be recycled in a conventional fashion to them so that they can recycle them. For each different type of recyclable, a different number of points is given. The Gremlin has found that the prizes offered by the recycling programs are right up his alley, and constantly trades in for geodes fossils, and other interesting items.

When we go to trade in these items, the Pickle will walk around the drawers and pick up all the magnifying glasses. He will hoard them so that his brother has to come ask him for one. However, last time, we ran into another family that was turning in recyclables as well. The Pickle was unmoved.

“I using them now.” The mother of the child was not giving up easily.

“But you can’t even hold them all.” The Pickle looked at her, and then decided to find a way – lest the boy put the magnifying glass down and let the Gremlin get it. So he started putting each one into a different pocket. He ended up with four (one in each pocket), but still had an extra. He looked around, the mom went a little closer so that she could hold her hand out, and Pickle went into desperation mode.

He pulled his shirt up with one hand, pulled his diaper forward with the other, and shoved the extra magnifying glass down the front of his diaper.

“See, I using them all!” The mother either didn’t want to fight with a two year-old, or was worried he might actually give her the magnifying glass that was currently rubbing against his junk, and backed off.

“Well, okay then,” and she went to corral her son away from the ‘special’ children with the magnifying glasses. From there, the Pickle went around with his prizes. He would walk up to the shells that were laying out and put the magnifying glass up to it and “look at things.” Unfortunately, he would look at the handle itself, and not through the lens.

“I see things!” He proudly announced. The Gremlin had finished tallying up his submissions and was walking around trying to determine what he wanted, so the zoo staff were also looking around. One of them noticed the Pickle’s proclamations, and decided to engage him.

“Oh, what do you see?” The Pickle, crouched down by a drawer in what we call the “pooping position,” staring at the handle of a magnifying glass, looked up at her.

“Zombies.” The zoo staff took this sighting of the undead in stride and braved the smell enough to move the handle down so that Pickle was looking through the lens.

“Well, you’re supposed to use it like this.” The Pickle jumped up and screamed!

“Oh! I really see things!” And proceeded to waddle around in his load-laden diaper for another ten minutes looking at various things before we were able to convince him to leave.

Stressors

The Gremlin was walking home from school today when he vented to his mother.

“Oh, mom, I’m just so stressed!”

“I’m sorry to hear that buddy, what are you stressed about?”

“I have homework to do tonight, I have to finish watching Riders of Berk because I didn’t finish it last night, and I have to read out of my book bag! I just don’t have enough time!”

“That does sound like quite a bit, is there anything I can do to help you not be so stressed?”

“I’m glad you asked. Video games help with stress. Lots of video games.”

“But if you’re stressed about not having enough time, should you really be taking time to play video games?”

“Hmm, well, I guess I’m stressed about something else…”

He Still Needs Alone Time

The Pickle frequently takes advantage of his ever-increasing mobility to climb on the counter to either “assist” us in preparing something, or rummage through the cabinets in search of something that strikes his fancy. He was digging through the bottom shelf when he found – unbeknownst to us – a small pack of Cadbury Mini-Eggs. The Mother of the Pickle, attempting to keep him healthy and happy, started this conversation with him.

“Oh, Pickle, do you want something to eat?”

“Um, yes momma. Yes. I um- I… Hmmm. Momma, I want some-ting…. Umm… Oh! I want some-ting healthy!” The MOTP didn’t pick up on the coincidental timing of the request and was eager to help.

“Oh, that’s so great! What would you like?”

“Mom, I want a sandwich, and apples, and crackers. And cut the peels of the apples!”

“Oh, of course honey!”

“Okay, be careful and take your time. I need lone time before eating. I go play in my room. And cheese momma! In curls!” By this time he was in his room, and the door clicked shut.

The MOTP did take her time, but with the expediency of a mother she had it ready soon. Upon opening the door to inform the Pickle of this, she was greeted with a shriek.

“NO MOMMA. MRFGRFP! NEED MGH-LONE TIME!” and he pushed against the door. Unfortunately, the desperate heaves of a 25-lb child is not much compared to a full grown adult, the the MOTP poked her head around the door to see the Pickle’s face covered in chocolate. He had managed to get the bag open, and was frantically shoving the last few chocolate eggs into his mouth.

I think it’s safe to assume he remembers Cadbury Mini Eggs

SANTA!

Every year the Gremlin’s best friend has a massive Christmas house party. It’s the family event of the season (as long as you don’t get yourself un-invited), and the event is highlighted by a visit from Santa. This year was the Pickle’s second year at the Gremlin’s party, but it seems to have made quite an impression. While he wasn’t too focused on time he spent upstairs playing with his brother’s best friend’s little brother’s (Spaceballs anyone?) toys, he apparently remembers Santa

Not the hour he spent terrified of Santa, hiding behind his mother, his brother, or his brother’s best friend yelling at Santa to stop putting kids on his lap. No, the mind of a Pickle is much more forgiving – especially when the person in question broke into his house to leave him presents he then got to hoard for himself. It’s unfortunate that this is what he remembers because on days like today, when we go to pick the Gremlin up from a playdate it causes a minor problem. And by minor problem we mean he saw the house and screamed “SANTA!”

The Mother of the Pickle was only barely able to catch up with him before he made it onto the property of a complete stranger en route to the ‘Santa House’ which, unfortunately, the Gremlin was playing in the front lawn. Which means the Pickle did not get to go inside. After a quick chat in the yard with the Gremlin’s best-friends’ mother, and the MOTG tried to head back home, unfortunately.

The Pickle threw the biggest tantrum of his life. He remembered that Santa was in the house, but hasn’t really put the rest of it together so he really thought Santa lived in that house. The MOTP escorted the Gremlin out of the yard which upset the Pickle. While he started to follow the Gremlin and his mother, he was very upset that they were leaving, to the point he laid down in the middle of the street and screamed. The MOTP picked him up at this point, which prompted a wave of fidgets and fights and cries to “put [him] down!” Needless to say, as soon as the MOTP did, he would sprint back towards the house screaming, “I WANT TO SEE SANTA!” It took her a good 10 minutes (while I just watched, laughed, and monitored the child who happened to be behaving at this point) until he calmed down. In the car on the way to ‘Dino Days’ the Pickle finally calmed down enough to talk again.

“So, brudder, did Santa give you presents?”

Daddy’s Sad So I Need Cupcakes

The Mother of the Pickle was driving down the street today, and was stopped at a stop light. The Pickle saw something piqued his interest.

“Oh, momma, I so sad.”

“Why are you sad, Pickle?”

“I miss my daddy. I love him so much, and I just miss him so much it hurts.”

“Oh, well, is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Yes, we go pink cupcake store now. Daddy like cupcakes and they make Pippy feel better. Oh look, its right there!”

We’re thinking that as he played the MOTP like a drum, he may be even smarter and more able to manipulate people than his brother…

Suckers at the Bank

The Pickle was doing errands this afternoon, which took him into the bank. We had not previously seen this, however, where the tellers had populated the trays with suckers. The Pickle, as astute a sense of smell as any two year-old, was able to tell something was up as soon as he walked into the bank.

“Momma, pick me up.” The Mother of the Pickle saw the teller trays and tried to ignore him.

“Momma! Momma! Pick me up!” He tried several more times only to be rebuffed, and tried to take matters into his own hands. He turned to the elderly man next to him in line.

“Hey you! Pick me up!” The man was initially taken aback, but when he actually started to reach down to pick up the Pickle, the MOTP gave in and lifted him off the ground. Now at “teller level” he began scooping up suckers by the handful. Realizing that all of them were the same way, he tried to walk to the next teller window for more bounty.

“Pickle! Put those back! It’s only meant to be one per person!” The Pickle was undeterred by this, and again turned to the elderly man.

“Scuse me! Can I have your sucker? Pease?!” And of course for some reason people keep giving him what he wants.

“Of course you can darling.” He smiled and looked down the line.

“Can I have your sucker too?”

“Oh, sure sweetie, I don’t need it!” And he ended up collecting about ten or twelve of them after the teller told him he could take as many as he wanted. The MOTP tried one last time to get the Pickle to put them back and reached for them, so the Pickle played his trump card. He ┬álicked the bundle of suckers – still with the wrapper on – with enough saliva to drip down the sides and onto his hand.

“Can’t give them back now, Momma! Dey have GERMS.”

The Pickle Is Making Plans

“Momma, I want to talk about my birday.”

“Okay, when you turn three?”

“Okay, sure. I want Legos. Chima and some Ninjago. And Cupcakes. And those orange things from TV day.”

“TV day?”

“Yeah, superday.”

“The Superbowl? Cheetos?”

“Yes, them. And that thing that you hit with sticks to make candy come out.”

“A pinata?”

“Sure. I want all dat.”

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind for your birthday.”

“Okay. Tomorrow is good.”

“Tomorrow?”

“For my birday.”

“Your birthday is not tomorrow, it’s in July.”

“Shhhhh, momma, tomorrow’s good!”