Of Moths and Men

We don't have pets now. We won't have pets later. That was decided before Martha the Moth made the poor decision to fly into the house - Martha just sealed it.

One on hand, I'm proud of Teagan that she approached a moth without any fear or trepidation and on the other, I'm wondering what she won't touch considering how ugly this moth was. 

It was resting near the oven when Teagan audibly gasped and cried, "It's a butthly!" (Teagan for butterfly) and picked it up by a leg. Which tore off, so she picked it up by its wings. She wanted to return the butthly to its rightful home outside, so threw it in the air, only to have it fall very quickly back to earth. If moths had hindsight, this one would have put a little more effort into flying away. 

"She will be my pet!" Teagan exclaimed with glee, apparently interpreting the moth's injury as a plea to stay with her. So, I reluctantly pulled out a glass, poked some holes in some plastic wrap and allowed her to gently place her new pet in its enclosure. It seemed to be DOA, but I didn't have the heart to tell her. She confirmed with me several times that I had indeed provided a way for the butthly to breathe, but I think her concern would have been better placed with the poor thing's missing limbs. 

To distract her from the fact that her new pet wasn't moving, I asked Teagan what its name was. "Takawana," she replied, without missing a beat. This girl has the most creative names for dolls and pets - I'm nervous for her progeny. Unless she winds up in Utah, and names like Shoosh, Blones and Takawana are in the top 10. It took me a few times to get it right when I tried to repeat it back to her, so she decided that Martha was easier to say. So Martha it is. Was. 

I never quite know what she will remember (the scabby old dresses and T-shirts that I try to hide in hopes she'll wear something that <gasp> actually matches only to have her ask for the hidden items specifically, months after I've put them away) and what she will forget ("Please make sure you wash your hands after you use the toilet!") so when there is doubt, I try not to get rid of things. We returned from an hour of play in the backyard to find Grandma doing dishes, Martha's makeshift habitat now resting, overturned,  in the dishwasher. I tried to distract her with talk of colouring and all things shiny, praying she wouldn't ask about her pet. Mission accomplished - who doesn't love shiny things? 

We were talking about insects the next day and without thinking, mentioned that one looked like Martha. I held my breath and waited for the weeping and wailing upon discovering that dear Martha was no longer with us. Unnecessarily, as she simply asked, "Who?"

Martha, you made a lasting impression on me and the cats, dogs and small rodents everywhere who have you to thank that the Richards will be settling for digital pets for the foreseeable future. Rest in peace, my winged friend.

Things Teagan Says V

Named her babies the following:

Baby Darthy (not “Dorothy” – from firsthand experience) and Baby Blones.

Named her Care Bear “hot dog vanilla ice rainbow ice cream with a heart.”

“Mason’s been crying for 6 years. And he’s been poopy for 5 years.”

“Oh my cow.” (Combo of “Oh my goodness” and “Holy cow”)

“Boom shacka shacka.

Teagan: “Let’s have some girl fizzy drink.” (Strawberry Fanta)

Me: “But you don’t like fizzy drink.”

Teagan: “I do! Let’s have some fizzy drink.”

{Pssst of the opening can}

Teagan: “I don’t like fizzy drink.”

“Mom, can I please have ice?”

I gave it to her.

“It’s cold. I don’t like cold.”

Teagan: “Today we need a t-shirt, shorts and socks.”

Me: “And cheese?”

Teagan: “Yes. And cheese.”

“When I was a grandma, I used to go to heaven all the time…Grandad died. Why?”

Me: “Let’s think of rhyming words.”

Teagan: “Okay. Grass and…walk!” (I must say I was relieved.)

Teagan: “There’s a bad guy in my room!”

I bolted up the stairs not knowing what I would find, and when I found nothing, I brought her up to have her point it out. It was the mom from the dollhouse.

“I don’t want Mason to grow up.” She actually gets very emotional about this and we get into heated, existential debates.

Teagan: “Why does Daddy have to work?”

Me: “Because we need money.”

Teagan: “We need money to buy ice cream? We already have ice cream. I don’t want Daddy to go to work.”

Teagan: “Are you Daddy’s age?”

Me: “Well, Daddy is 8 months older than me.” Which lead to a discussion of months vs. years. “Months are less than years. Mason isn’t a year old yet, he’s just months. He’s 8 months." Apparently she didn’t grasp the concept.

Teagan: “So are you 8 months?”

She’s been in a big Chipmunks and Chipettes phase lately, so we borrowed the latest movies from the library and watched them sing all sorts of chart toppers. I showed her Beyonce’s Single Ladies and she simply asked, “Where’s Britney?”

In church, looking through the LDS Gospel Art book:

Livi: “This is Thomas S. Monson, he’s our prophet.”

Teagan: “He’s our prophet too!”

In the bathtub:

“My toots look like fireworks.”

Playing Potato Heads.

Teagan: “Mom, this is my Potato Head. Ask me about her family!”

Me: “Where’s your mum?”

Teagan: “Oh, she’s dead.”

Teagan: “Sad! Do you miss her?”

Teagan: “No.” She won’t be giving my eulogy!

Ended up with toilet paper hanging out of her bottom. I tried to remove it.

“But I want a tail!”

This little woman is so wonderfully weird and crazy curious and I love her funny little personality when we aren't at odds over something trivial that snowballs into a meltdown.

The next J.K. Rowling

Thank goodness Teagan is happy to have stories read to her, because if she needed me to make up stories to tell, she's be sorely disappointed. She asked me to do a puppet show with Lalaloopsy colouring pages (yes) and I had to make up a plot on the spot. It was very sad. To give you an idea of how terrible my storytelling is, Teagan tried to imitate my style. Sad indeed.

"Ladies and Gentlemen...Once upon a time there was a girl named Crumbs Sugar Cookie. She went to sleep and it was nighttime forever. Then a wolf went to her rainbow and said "Wow! You're way up high!" And the wolf went to sleep too. The End."

"Ladies and Gentlemen...There was a girl named Jewel and Cat and they were excited to run with the wolves and the good wolves and the rubber duckies. They ran and ran and then there were no good wolves and they fell out of the tree."

"A jewel named Cat was excited to have a picnic with good wolves in the trees. They fell down."

Soon to be bestsellers, I'm sure of it.

The Pwincess Phase

It's upon us. The Princess Phase. It was all very cute and innocent when she started taking an interest in the Disney Princesses, and of course, we indulged her - we love Disney! But I always told myself we wouldn't call her "princess" or make her believe that the world would treat her like one. We're still 1 for 2.

This girl takes role playing VERY seriously. I have to pay close attention to the way she introduces herself in the morning, because heaven forbid I call her "Minnie Mouse" when she's a "pwincess" that day. She could be a pwincess, she could be Minnie or she could be Millie from Team Umizoomi. And that makes me, by association, pwince (unless Daddy's around), Mickey or Geo. She came in the other morning and told me, "Teagan's a pwincess, Daddy's a pwince." Feeling left out, I asked her what I was. Without skipping a beat, she responded "A dwagon." Ouch. We've had the same conversation several times since and each time she tells me I'm a dwagon. Guess it wasn't a one time thing. But she did clarify the most recent time that I'm a pretty dwagon. A purple one. So there's that.

If her father is around, he plays the prince - which makes sense. But when he's at work, I have to fill the role. But when we try to dance, I'm told that the prince's belly is too big and she decides to wait for her Dad (although she seems to think that he has a baby in his tummy too.) 

She often comes over and bats her eyelashes, clasps her hands together and asks, "Please dance wiv me, Pwince?" I just can't say no.

She favours her pink Cinderella princess dress, but her costumes certainly aren't limited to that. She wears a dress every day lately, regardless of our activities. Sometimes her Minnie Mouse ears double as a crown and sometimes she gets even more creative.

I left Teagan and Daddy alone for 5 minutes and found them both with pairs of Teagan's big girl underwear on their heads as "cwowns". Initiated by Brandon. He's going to have to be the one to tell her where they actually go, because she won't listen to me when I try to tell her. For the next week, she insisted on wearing one of these crowns all day.

Just so I wasn't a complete fuddy duddy, I acquiesced to her request for me to wear a pair. They ended up looking more like a scrub cap than a princess crown, but I look more like a land monster than a human being, so it's probably fitting.

We've upgraded to bloomers in the last little while, and those seem slightly less offensive. And once in a while, they even match. And make me feel like I'm on the set of Newsies.

As long as we're limiting our princess treatment to dancing with princes and wearing pantie crowns and not making demands and ordering us around like servants, I'll be okay with this little phase. At least I hope that's what it is.

Teagan's Too Much

I have been feverishly taking notes on Teagan's latest and greatest antics, doing my best to document everything funny she does lately. I can't keep up. And I have to accept that. Especially since #2 is getting closer and I already know that I won't document his childhood nearly as well as I've been able to record Teagan's. Of course I'll try, but I'm being realistic. So instead of 100 little posts dedicated to her hilarity, I'm going to summarize and smush a whole bunch of funny stories into one mega-post and hope that it paints a picture of just how awesome this little girl is.

• "Mummy, have check up for Mummy's baby."
• Me: "You all done?" Teagan: "No, I finished." Defiant little stinker.
• "<gasp!> Hear dat?" Whenever there's a strange noise...or a toot.
• "Dat's my bum. It's big."
• "Mummy cwazy!"
• I couldn't figure out what she wanted me to do, so she 'splained: "You swipe, Mummy. <sigh> "YOU do it" and proceeded to demonstrate swiping a basket and running away.
• Reading our tiny Animal World books that talk about 15 different animals, where they live, what they eat, etc. We've read them so many times through, she has some memorized...with a few twists.
• "I Steve the monkey." 
• "I a penguin. My home is <pause> Steve." Apparently "Antarctica was too hard to say."
• "I a lion. I live in Vasana." That's "Savannah".
• She hiked Exploration Peak (a nearby mountain - we took my parents when they were here and verified that it's a mountain) without us, with our friend Natalie and apparently did great.
• "My tummy come out just like yours, Mummy. Teagan little. Mummy big. Teagan's tummy little. Mummy's tummy BIG."
• "It's all right, Mummy. Don't be scared of witch."
• "Look, Mummy! Daddy's awake!" with fingers still on his eyelids from forcibly prying his eyes open.
• "I very sorry, Mummy. Minnie's bow missing."
• We were doing a puzzle together and she put a piece in upside down (yes, we expect great things). I laughed, so she did it at least 4 more times and laughed hysterically every time.
• On the half hour drive to pick up Brandon from work, she filled her little Dora backpack replica over and over again and pronounced, "I have something for you!"
• Daddy: "Boy, you're cute." Teagan: "Yeah, I cute!" Daddy: "And humble, too. Can you say humble?" Teagan: {giggle} "No."
• We were walking home from a friend's house and came upon two hummingbirds feasting on the nectar in their neighbour's garden. She thought they were bugs at first, then I told her they were tin birds. Hummingbirds. "Hunningbird! Scuse me! Scuse me, hunningbird!" I expected one to be scared of the other, but neither seemed afraid at all and we spent at least 15 minutes with them hovering all around us as though we weren't there. It was so sweet.
• I was getting her ready for a nap (that, for t he record, never happened) and looking for the second binkie I had just seen her with. (Yes, she still needs binkies to nap, and requires two of them.) "Where is it?" "I don't know, Mummy. I don't know." I had her on my hip, overturning pillows, looking in drawers and finally gave in, plucking one from the reserve - I don't know how many we've gone through and I refuse to buy more, so you can understand my hesitation. As we are heading up the stairs, she grins and says, "Mummy, I have 3 binkies." "WHERE?!" I demanded. Her grin widened and she lifted her foot to show me the elusive second binkie she's been clutching with a curled toe. Well played, Teagan Richards. Well played.
• I can't remember what I was doing at the time, but I must have been doing well. Teagan ran up to me and said, "You doing much great."
• Mummy, getting ready to leave for the temple: "You're going to sleep at Katie's house tonight." Teagan: "Katie's brave!" Amen.
• "Mummy, your hair is brave." We may need to go over the definition one more time.
• "Daddy's a pwince, Teagan's a pwincess." I asked her what Mummy was. Without missing a beat: "A dwagon." I asked her again a few days later. Same answer. Ouch.
• Your hair is brave - after putting a band she gave me.
• I just moved all of the 4T clothes into her closet. Yes, my not-yet-3 year old is moving into 4T clothes. As fast as I was hanging them in her closet, she was pulling them off the hanger and gasping with delight at her new clothes. "Ooh, so pretty Mummy!"
• She also found a bin of big girl underwear, featuring the likes of Dora and Tinkerbell. "Ooh, Mummy. It's a cute little diaper!" I tried to explain big girl underwear but she couldn't be swayed from the notion that they were diapers.
• Another discovery (she's into everything these days) came in the form of a box of shoes she's outgrown. She insisted on trying them on and when she found out they didn't fit, declared, "Too small. For brother." Anything that is too small for her automatically belongs to brother. He may be wearing a lot of pink.
• She's become a little parrot, repeating everything we say - bad and good. Just a few of the "bad" - Daddy's junk (she kicked him), oh crap, that sucks but the good ones melt my heart - no thanks, scuse me, I yuv you, bless you. A friend was watching Teagan for me and texted me that she was in a room full of people and sneezed, and Teagan (who was only 2) was the only one who said bless you.
• Mummy: "Please don't hit me! It makes me sad." Teagan: "No! It makes you happy!"
• I turned to Brandon the other day after he'd asked Teagan if she wanted to do something. "No, not yet," came her reply. I started to say, "Wow! Can you believe how much she's taken off when it comes to..." {Teagan spat out garbled nonsense for a good 30 seconds}..."vocabulary?" Her timing couldn't have been better.
• While we were colouring a Dora colouring book, out of the blue, Teagan looked up at me and announced: "Caillou's daddy has dangerous ears." The definition of random.
• She started to encroach on my space and so I shoved the oversized colouring book toward her. She got up, came over to me calmly and quietly and said gently, "Get to time out, Mummy." She held my arm softly and told me, "Don't throw." Thinking it was a good opportunity to show her that rules apply to mummies and daddies as well, I obliged and sat in the (teeny) Time Out Chair. She stayed by me and continued to touch my arm. I asked if I was done, she said yes and gave me a hug, which is standard Time Out procedure. Then she started to sing "I Am A Child of God." Not standard procedure, but I wonder if it should be. It was absolutely precious. It eventually morphed into the ABC song, but it was no less adorable. I hope that this was a reflection of how she sees my disciplinary tactics - although I know I'm not always calm and collected like that.

I hope you agree that we have one incredible little girl on our hands. Love her.

Reverting

I've been digging out baby things lately, as part of my nesting phase. Most of my nesting has involved tearing every room in the house apart and laying down on the couch because I don't have the energy to put things back together. On more occasions than I care to count, I've had to rescue Teagan from the exersaucer. I keep telling her that she is too big and that it's for brother, but she keeps proving me wrong. I stumbled upon her in it the other day, muttering "goo goo, ga ga!" When she saw me, she looked up and said "See, Mummy? I not too big." She's reverting.

All this talk of becoming a big sister must be putting too much pressure on her because she seems to be reliving her infancy. She gets out the playmat and paws at the hanging toys and hums along with the tinkling music. Heaven knows what will happen when her brother is actually using these things.

Working on Winking

One eye closing at a time? She's got it.
The subtlety usually intended by a wink? Not quite.

 

She's going to make us big bucks.

Teagan's a creative one, to be sure. She's always coming up with new ways to use things and most of them are decidedly weird. Every time she comes down the stairs and turns the corner, I never know what she's going to be wearing or holding or doing. She often comes down after failed attempts to get herself dressed and, admitting defeat, requests help.

Recently she came down the stairs and came up with an idea. A built-in sippy cup. She told me she was keeping it in her "pocket" (the space between one's chest and one's shirt). This space seems to be underutilized and Teagan's campaigning to use it to its full potential. We're always preaching hydration here in Vegas, so I was very proud of my baby for making it that much easier. Look out world, she's going to make us millions!

It was THAT kind of day.

Nothing a swig from a freshness-sealed (meaning she didn't actually get a drop) bottle of almond extract couldn't fix, apparently.

The Cutest Thing.

Brandon tells me the cutest thing about Teagan these days is that she's old enough to run errands. Like getting a tissue when she needs her nose wiped, or pulling books off the shelf to read...and by read, I mean pile neatly. Observe the "cuteness".

Nice to Meet You?

Teagan's taken to calling me Michelle lately. Well, if I'm being entirely honest, she's calling me Bash-ow. And without fail, here's how the conversations go:

Teagan: "Bash-ow? BASH-OW!"
Mummy: "My name is Mummy."
Teagan: "Hi! I Teagan."

I believe we've met. I did, after all, MAKE you. And you'd be wise to remember that.

Second ever jumping photo. It's in the genes.

Cashew Issues

BEFORE: Learning that Teagan likes to eat cashews.
AFTER: Learning that Teagan doesn't like to share cashews. Daddy took one and this is the reaction he got. And he almost lost a finger.

Cadadoo!

For a few months now, one of Teagan's favourite activities has been to tell us to sleep and wake us up like a rooster. She can't quite spit out COCKADOODLEDOO, but CADADOO gets the message across. She'll tell Daddy to "sweep" then it's Mummy's turn to "sweep" and usually next comes "Teagan turn."

It's funny when we're at home and it's planned, but Brandon has an uncanny ability to fall asleep anywhere at the drop of a hat. It hasn't happened yet, but I'm waiting to hear CADADOO at church. She's told him to wake up several times, and perhaps she senses that a rooster doesn't belong in church. *knock on wood*

Tongue workin' overtime.

Teagan's doing really well learning the alphabet. Every so often I'll hear her singing the ABC's to herself and it melts my heart. For the most part she's pronouncing most letters properly (with the exception of Rs which I think is pretty common) but she is focusing on giving "L" her all lately.

"Crayon" is one of my favourite words that she says, and I coaxed her into saying it on video. It's more than a little shaky, so I don't know whether you'll get the full effect, but just watch for her tongue jumping out of her mouth when she says CRAY-LON:

Other words that she seems to get tongue tied over: stroLLer, MuLan, NanareLLA. It's precious. And a word of note, though it doesn't feature an L is Teagan's version of yogurt: nogurt. Cracks me up.

Tea for Three

Our sweet neighbours, The Statens, bought Teagan a Rapunzel tea set for her 2nd birthday and she loves it - shocker! She started out content to pretend to drink, but I had the genius (read: stupid) idea to give her some water to play around with once and there's been no going back. You might think that this means I'm lightening up, and I'm not as worried about messes. Think again.

 

Poor T is resigned to beach tea parties - that is, on a beach towel in the kitchen. Please don't judge me. When I'm sitting in the middle of pile of laundry for a family of 6, I'm sure I'll look back on this and laugh. But for now, we'll all have to settle on this compromise.

She doesn't seem to mind. And her favourite guest so far? Her daddy. You'd think he was the English one, raised pinky and everything. The man can hold his own at a tea party. So proud.

Little Miss Manners

I'll have to confirm with Guinness, but I may have the world's most polite two year old. Her vocabulary is increasing exponentially, but the words she uses most seem to be "pease", "dand you", "shoory" and "wowcome" (please, thank you, sorry and you're welcome, in case you didn't catch it).

We inherited a series of 12 phonics books featuring Dora the Explorer from a great friend. She loved reading them for the first week or two, but now she's moved on to stacking them instead. But not before having me hand her the dozen books individually. Once she's created her literary tower, she passes them back to me. One by one. By one. It's some of the most tedious playtimes I've ever experienced, but the saving grace is the dialogue.

As I pass them to her:

"Pease."

"Dand you."

"You're welcome."

12 times over.

Once she has them all stacked, she cautions me to be "Cayful!" And then she passes them to me:

"Please."

"Thank you."

"Wahcome." (I keep thinking she's about to say waka waka. One day.)

x 12

If got bored reading this, try living it. Over. And over. And over. I suppose I should be glad that she's using her manners. Correctly. She doesn't always get it right. Take last week for example:

Mummy after Teagan broke wind: "What do we say when we toot?"
Teagan: "Thank you."
 
Manners are confusing.

No idea where she gets it.

Whenever I turn my back, she's pulling out all of her movies and...organizing them.

When she's finished reading a book, she places it on a neatly stacked pile of other books. And if they aren't lined up exactly, she says " careful!" No joke.

And yes, she reads each Dora book exactly the same way:

"Hi! I'm Dora! Ready to help? Great! blah blah blah" then usually something about "Swiper no swiping!" In this particular story, Dora dresses as Red Riding Hood, so Teagan mentions Riding Hood no fewer than four times on one page.
But I digress. She's hit and miss when it comes to cleanliness and organization (ahem, throwing everything out of her crib to let me know she's ready to come out) but we have a start. A scary, compulsive start.

Alternative Lifestyles

Teagan pluralizes everything. From "Novies" to "binkies" to "Grandmas", when she's only referring to one. She calls us "Mummies" and "Daddies" a lot, which leads me to believe that if it continues, people may wonder about us. While it indeed takes a village, it's just Brandon and I filling the role of Mummy and Daddy.

"Oh goodness?"

I said it once, trying to get her excited about something and now "Oh goodness" is her go-to phrase for anything out of the ordinary. And it always sounds like a question. Sometimes she'll throw in "Oh my", but that's on rare occasions. Apparently I need to watch what's coming out of my mouth!

Drinking in the Rain

Yesterday's storm left a plethora of puddles in our backyard, specifically where the original cement meets the newer stuff. Teagan's friend Keaton had come over to play and wanted to go outside. Knowing that she'd gravitate towards the puddles (who wouldn't?) I insisted she wear her wee rain boots. I should have given her a straw instead.

Sending her out to play in the puddles didn't yield the results I had expected, but it shouldn't have surprised me that she surprised me. She's so creative and wonderfully weird. I tried to stop her from lapping up the pools of water that had collected on various outdoor toys, but was unsuccessful there. I didn't swipe it away in time to stop her from drinking the water from the bubble container I'd left on the picnic table. So I suppose it shouldn't surprise me when she burps bubbles later today.

She was soaked from head to toe (having tripped in the puddle) and a saturated diaper (having lost a shoving contest with Keaton and landing on her bum) and she loved every minute of it. She's such a hilarious example to me of making the best of things - just like her Dad. She claimed multiple times that she wasn't thirsty, so I finally gave in and stopped trying to stop her. I just stood in the doorway with a towel, clean clothes and open arms, waiting for my little puddle licker. Partly because I'm mellowing out as a parent and partly because of a tragedy this morning in Connecticut. A 20 something man marched into the elementary school where his mother taught and shot and killed her and, several other teachers and 20 children between the ages of 5 and 10. Heartbreaking. Absolutely heartbreaking. My heart aches for those parents who instead of holding their children close tonight, and reading them bedtime stories will be weeping and wondering about the life cut so tragically short. Rest assured I'll be a little nicer to my sweet, silly goose today. Today she can lick all the puddles she wants.