The Hoarding of the Fruit (Snacks)

The Gremlin is known for hoarding food in his room. I’m not sure if this is in preparation for 13 Baktun, or just a rainy day. The other day he was “making Mommy margaritas” and had a bag of limes in there (which, once discovered, the Mother of the Gremlin promptly raided so she could make margaritas).

Well, it so happens that our dear little foodie is such a terror at the grocery store that the only way we have found to keep him even semi-tame is to allow him one food treat he can buy and take home.

What the treat is usually depends on the area of the store he is in when he remembers he is usually allowed a treat. The other day, that happened to be right by the fruit snacks. This semi-gelatinous goodness had been a long-time favorite of the Gremlin’s, and it was even easier for him this time – they had Curious George fruit snacks, on sale.

After overcoming his initial paroxysm of delight, he happily clutched the box all the way to the checkout. And through the checkout (throwing such a fit the cashier was even acting timidly while using the hand-scanner on it…). And to the car.

Once the MOTG was finally parked, she wrested the box away from the tiny, vice-like paws of the Gremlin and was about to put it in one of her bags when she noticed it was a bit light. She turned to the Gremlin.

“Buddy, how many packages of fruit snacks did you get out of the box?”

“I ate two, momma, and put the third away for later.” The MOTG did the math in her head.

“Wait, how many did you eat?”

“Two, momma!”

“Where did the third one go?” The Gremlin avoided making eye contact, trying not to tell the MOTG. But she pressed again. “Buddy. Where is the other package?”

“In my pants.” The MOTG rolled her eyes. She flipped his coat off to the side and felt around in his pocket. Nothing. She turned the other pocket inside out. Still nothing.

“Buddy, do you remember what daddy says about lying?” He knew the answer to this one, and answered with enthusiasm.

“It’s bad!”

“That’s right buddy, so I want you to tell me where the last package of fruit snacks is.”

“Momma, it’s in my pants.”

“I just looked in your pants.”

“No, momma, ” the Gremlin laughed, thinking about how silly his mother was being, “not there. In my pants.”

The MOTG got the idea, and gave a little tug on each side of his hips. The Gremlin’s cargo pants dropped to the floor and the package of fruit snacks slid over to his mother’s foot. He reached down and picked it up.

“Momma, I share that with you.”

“No, thanks, buddy. You can go ahead and have it.”

“Oh, thank you momma, I’m so happy!”

So the MOTG loaded up her bags, and started off, the Gremlin contentedly munching on his fruit snacks. As she walked down the street to the condo, cars honked and whistled as they went by. Not seeing any cars in the middle of the road, or accidents, the MOTG shrugged it off and called for the Gremlin to keep up. Suddenly, she was disturbed by a man running up behind her.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” The MOTG turned to face this new obstacle between her and her lunch. (Funny how they both get really cranky when they don’t eat.)

“I think your son is having some issues with his pants.” The MOTG turned to look, and saw the Gremlin was still doing his best to keep up with her, running as best he could. It seems that, unburdened by the added bulk the single package of fruit snacks added to the Gremlin’s waistline, his pants had fallen to the sidewalk, and were beginning to come down and turn inside out over his shoes. Apparently the cars had been honking due to the miniature waddling pictures of Thomas and Friends on our son’s tighty-whities.

The MOTG took this in for a minute and then put all her groceries down, but the Gremlin strode past her.

“Momma, hurry up! I want McDonald’s!” He hadn’t said anything because he wanted to go get lunch as much as his mother had. And he rocked the Thomas undies proudly.

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Mave Strikes Back!

It’s Friday, and in the Gremlin’s world, that means Art Class! Today, our little darling made a snake, a map, and several other things that the Gremlin “hasn’t decided what they are yet.”

The specific Art Class put on at this city of Chicago public park (and as we’re signing up for it again next week, I’m not posting the name, just in case) frequently has several ‘stations’ all around the room for different activities.

It so happened that Mave finally returned to the class (she had not shown since the unfortunate Name Spelling Incident) and was happily painting at the same table as the Gremlin. We assume this was due to her perfect attendance record at her preschool that her mother was raving about.

It was discovered during this class time that Mave herself is in preschool at this time (coming up on the completion of the school year). Well, she felt the urge again to display her spelling prowess and confessed to the table in a hushed voice as she painted,

I know how to spell my name.” Everyone at the table – Mave and the Gremlin included – continued to paint, each child filling their paper with mast strokes before claiming new sheets to instill with color and flavor.

“I know how to spell my name.” Mave spoke louder this time, allowing her voice to carry over the entire table as the students continued their education in color. The Gremlin let a beat go by before responding:

“I’m smarter than you.” Mave didn’t look up either as she responded.

“Yeah…”

It was at this point the MOTG realized that we should probably stop discussing his blog in front of him, the Gremlin delivering a perfectly timed (and perfectly egotistical) comedic line. Mave was undeterred, as was everyone else at the table. And nobody at the table even stopped painting…

Snow Day!

The Gremlin recently took a snow day – after the almost 2 feet that fell up here, even two days after that snow fell there were places that still had pristine snow.

One of these places was the park on the other side of the river from us – the drifts piled up all through the equipment, and allowed the Gremlin to climb to the top of the equipment and leap from the top of the equipment into the soft drifts.

Thanks to the temperature the snow had been completely untouched, and the Gremlin took advantage. He ran from end to end, where he saw a drift, he made a leap – literally being buried in snow before he would manage to get his feet down.

Well, after a few hours of this, the Gremlin finally got enough through his system that he needed to perform one of Nature’s functions. With good foresight from the Mother of the Gremlin, they were at one of the parks with a staffed Chicago Park District building – meaning there was an open bathroom nearby.

The Gremlin, going through one of his “independent” phases (that is until he decides he wants to go home and needs to be carried), stopped the MOTG from coming into the stall and locked the door. Per the Gremlin’s norm of attention (none) and drive to annoy his mother (lots), he took forever.

The Gremlin emerged while his mother was distracted by ‘preschool’ flyers and postings, and was on his way out the front door (to the building, not the bathroom) when his mother finally got caught up to him to take his hand and lead him out. And even then she was more concerned with him “not slipping” than, well…

When they emerged from the park district building, they saw that there began a trickle – other kids had seen the Gremlin and his sporting ways, and were in the process of making their own child-sized craters in the drifts. And more were coming too – pulling into the parking spaces by the Park District building.

The MOTG – not wanting to be overbearing – let the Gremlin loose and walked over to a group of moms that held at least a few moms she’d seen before. The other moms looked away from her has she stepped up, until one finally nodded and cleared her throat.

“Ughm, is that your son in the blue out there?” The MOTG nodded – his reputation preceded him.

“Yeah, that’s my AJ.” The mom finally pointed at him.

“The one in his underwear?” The MOTG froze, and turned slowly.

The Gremlin was climbing between platforms at just that moment, and gave everyone a beautiful showing of his Disney Cars tighty-whities that had been pulled up after he’d gone to the bathroom over his snowpants. The MOTG turned back around to her super hero-like baby (with underwear on the outside!).

“Ha, oh yeah… uh, we’ve been working on him dressing himself recently. I gotta go…”

Trip to the Bank

Seeing as how the Father of the Gremlin is almost always working (slaving away every night and day, tirelessly toiling for his family – if I do say so myself), the Gremlin usually travels with his mother (the MOTG) to run various errands, including the bank.

The last time he went in there, the Gremlin led his mother over to the kiosk, pulled out two deposit slips, gave one to his mother, and then snagged one of the pens hanging from the chain down to his level.

The MOTG, figuring he was just doodling, filled out her deposit slip, and stepped into the line next to the kiosk. The Gremlin filled out his deposit slip, and stepped into the empty line (and closed window) next to his mother. Apparently he can’t read that well yet…

The people before and after the MOTG in line noticed the Gremlin and chuckled at the three year-old standing in front of the ‘closed’ sign, but the Tellers noticed as well. After he stood there for several minutes – just as the MOTG was getting to the front of the line – one of the Tellers opened up the Gremlin’s line and took his deposit slip. She took the slip back to the pinboard and posted it up on the wall, walked back, stopped by a drawer, and dropped something in the return tray.

The Gremlin strained up to reach it, and pulled out – A SUCKER! He turned around, surprised his mother wasn’t done yet, and started out the door.

“Hey! Stop there, buddy! Wait for Momma!” The Gremlin turned around and trundled back to the line. He handed the sucker up.

“Please open this for me?”

“Buddy, I’m not sure you should have that right now – it’s too close to dinner.”

The MOTG had dropped her purse down to Gremlin-level, though, and he struck again. He pulled her phone out of the purse and flipped it open. He paused, and then used the worst threat he knew.

“Be nice, momma, or I call daddy!”