What the...Falk??

Brady is an imaginative little guy. He enjoys having conversations with people who are not here, creates "parking lots" out of couch cushions for his cars, and makes up his own song lyrics on a nightly basis (his way of prolonging bed time). Lately, he has taken to making up his own words, too. We were leaving Eat n Park last night and the child, whose new method of hamming it up includes transposing letters at the beginnings of words, yelled, "WALK! TALK! FALK!" The last one clearly offended an older couple who was entering The Place for Smiles, but what can a mom do? I just smiled at them, and pretended that Zach and Brady weren't with me and Ella.

I don't think so, Dad.

 To offset the imminent string of crappy-weather-days that will necessitate inside-play-only and to burn off the notorious smiley face cookie (seriously! What is in those things?! CRACK?), we took the kids to the Mills last night and let them run (and cruise) at the indoor playground. There was a 4-year-old who probably could have kicked my ass manning the entrance to the playhouse and, of course, that's where Brady wanted to go. I really just wanted to shield him from the brute, but instead, let him run free and just watched. Like a hawk. I hovered, I won't lie. Everything was just peachy, which made me feel stupid...UNTIL, the four-year-old-monster grabbed Brady by the arms and started spinning him around in this tiny little playhouse. I heard Brady shriek, so I casually walked over (but my frantic face probably screamed EMERGENCY!) to find my little guy and this other boy...dancing. The shriek? It was sheer joy. Brady was having a blast. And when we were on our way home, I asked him if he liked dancing with the little boy and he replied, "Oh, dat was a yittle girl. She had yong (long) hair." This made Zach happy because it clearly proves Brady is attracted to girls and doesn't want to dance with boys. I was just happy that I didn't have to throw-down with a preschooler.

Note to self: simmer the hell down.

Hard work at the sandbox