Okay, we have a problem. Ethan has developed a shopping cart phobia.
We first noticed this last weekend at Trader Joe's. Greg put Ethan in a cart and he began screaming. Repeated attempts yielded the same results, so Greg was forced to carry Ethan through the store on his shoulders.
Since then, I've taken Ethan shopping twice. Each time I've plopped him in the cart, he has sent up a pitiful wail that has everyone within 20 yards looking at me as though I've done something reprehensible. I refuse to take him out of the cart and carry him around. The kid weighs 32 pounds, I mean, come on.
I don't know what brought this on. Maybe he's jealous of those other toddlers whose paranoid parents use those shopping cart covers to protect them from germs. Maybe he thinks those parents like their kids better than I like mine, because I snicker behind my hand when I see those. We are not paranoid parents — I let Ethan chew on the cart handles (my apologies to all those using the cart after me). Hey, whatever will keep him happy long enough for me to get our food and get us out of there, right?
I'm usually not a fan of shopping. This development has not made my experience any more pleasant. I sure hope we exit this phase as quickly as we entered it.
1 puppy from the Humane Society, advertised as an Australian Shepherd but in reality German Shorthair: $100.
3 weeks of in-kennel training (because at our owner-trainer conference the trainer informed us that 2 weeks were not enough for this dog): $1100.
1 shock collar: $150.
1 invisible fence plus another shock collar to match: $260
Greg's labor to install said invisible fence on hands and knees (even though he had fun cutting the driveway): $Unknown, it is still incomplete.
A dog that will allow a toddler to do what Ethan's doing in the following photos: Priceless.
What does it say about my son that he laughed hysterically as I flogged a ferocious wasp to death?
I guess it depends on whether he was laughing at me…
…or at the wasp.
What happens when you weigh 32.125 pounds and determine that an upended box would make the best stepping stool:
Ethan, busted nose and all, sitting on his Aunt Anita's lap this weekend:
While Laurel and I were at guitar lessons, Ethan face-planted on the concrete sidewalk outside our front door. There was nothing Greg could do about it other than clean him up and console him, so he took some photos.
Here he is immediately after his accident:
Lest anyone fear permanent damage, you'll notice it did not interfere with his appetite:
In addition to his nose job, Ethan provided himself with a smashed finger courtesy of our trash can's step pedal. He somehow wedged his finger between the pedal and the can and it did a number on him.
This is all, of course, not including the several tumbles he took today at the Little Gym. Those didn't faze him one bit.
Events of the past week:
1. Toddler Couture — Ethan ambled around the house in my flip-flop:
2. Irish Eyes are Smilin' — I made some authentic soda bread:
3. Open Burning — A privilege of living in Jefferson County:
Tonight I visited our local school district's website, trying to find an e-mail for a teacher. I noticed that one of the school's programs cited as a reason for its existence a story about Dr. Teddy Stoddard. It was a heartwarming story about how a thoughtful teacher changed Dr. Stoddard's life for the better when he was younger.
The only problem is the story is false. Completely false. I e-mailed the assistant superintendent over the program and also the webmaster to let them know so they would not suffer the embarrassment of someone else calling them on not checking their facts.
A few years ago I was working for the Missouri Department of Natural Resources, when an e-mail came down from Deputy Director Jeff Staake (so not the sharpest tool in the shed) giving a 'tip of the week' about how using cell phones at the gas pump was dangerous. He claimed that sparks from the cell phone could start a fire, and (most offensively) that women, in particular, were in the most danger due to our propensity to talk on the cell phone. Again, completely false. Duh, you think? I complained to my supervisor about the sexist nature of this e-mail and the fact that the idiot Deputy Director of the Department should have known better, especially because it would have required a bare minimum of research to discover its falsity. His excuse? He didn't have time to proofread what he sent, he just took submissions from other employees and sent them out. Um, I hate to break it to you, but if you have time to send out a tip of the week, you need to make time to read it first.
The moral of the story here is don't believe anything you receive in e-mail as a forward unless you know the source. If you have any doubt whatsoever, check out Snopes. Especially if you're thinking of sending it to me.
There's a new gig in town:
Laurel's St. Patrick's Day essay from school:
"If I caught a Leprechaun and had three wishes, I would wish for many things. First, I would wish for a new eraser. I would because I need one to erase better. Second, I would like one piece of gold. I only want one so I could have something to remember him by. Third, I would wish for a diamond. I would like one because I do not have one. If I had all those things I would be very happy. By Laurel."
I would, however, like to point out that her elementary school had a hat day fundraiser today wherein all proceeds would benefit a children's cancer charity. The price to be allowed to wear a hat was $1. Laurel asked if she could donate more. She donated $3. So she's not that material.
Well, actually, she donated $2.75 because she forgot to take a quarter to school for popcorn, so she asked for change in order to buy popcorn. So maybe she's just a little bit materialistic.
But really, aren't we all?