IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!

So we may have confused the Pickle this year. It started with my mother coming in town two weeks before his birthday, and a planned trip to visit the Mother of the Pickle’s family over his birthday, the Pickle ended up with two annual celebrations. For the first one, we had a very small party – the five of us went to a local park and grilled out, partied with a pinata, did some hiking, and had one of the best cakes ever. Two short weeks later we were back in Chicago doing a very similar thing – a family/friends gathering with presents, fireworks, and even more cake (the cup kind).

So when we left for the day today, and I was queried by the curious youngster on our destination, I wanted to try to relate it to him and make sure he knew where we were going.

“Do you remember for your birthday we went to a park?”

“Yes!”

“We’re going back to that park.”

“Oh-KAY!” I should have realized there that something was up – if only by the exuberance in his voice, but the tiny two-year old turned and talked to his brother.

“BROTHER! IS MY BIRDAY! IS MY BIRDAY BRUDDER! IS MY BIRDAY!”

Thankfully there were no tears shed as we cleared up that misunderstanding (at least until he demanded the ice cream/cake desert we did not have), but it was interesting to see the connection between the park and the events there.

See Momma? I’m Smart!

It was highly unusual that the Gremlin potty trained himself by the age of two – it also meant that the parents of the Pickle did not have to work at any type of potty training. And now the Pickle (who calls himself ‘Pippy’) has entered into a battle of wills against us – dead set on NOT using the toilet for as long as he can.

The unfortunate part of this equation is that he’s intelligent enough to understand us, and able to be potty trained if he wanted to be. We know this because we were talking to him one day and the Mother of the Pickle said,

“You know, if you were so smart you’d be potty trained by now.” The Pickle gave her a look and stomped off. We didn’t think much of it until about half an hour later when the Pickle wailed out.

“MOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” We ran in expecting to see an overflowing commode or something of the sort, but found the Pickle on the toilet, on his booster toilet seat. He looked at us and said,

“See? Pippy SMART!”

He hasn’t used the toilet since.