Due to the Olympic Fever that’s hit our home, the boys have been exposed to new aspects of sports.

We’ve been swimming before, but they’ve never seen Mommy or Daddy do competitive swimming starts or flip turns. (I wonder why?! )

I won’t even begin to describe their fascination with parts of gymnastics. I’m just thankful that they can’t reach the rafters in the garage.

Anyway, the swimming thing hit new heights this week when Nate and I witnessed our boys trying to “take their mark” off the arm of the couch and dive onto the cushions. We pretended not to notice because it was oh-so-funny. We let it go, while wathcing out of the corner of our eye(s) again and again.

I suppose doing this in just their underwear was their nod toward Speedos.

We finally had to stop them when Andy and Brady decided to race and start off the “blocks” at the same time. Being older and wiser, Mom and Dad knew that their couch cushions  pool wasn’t wide enough to catch both of them!

Thankfully, they never tried it from opposite ends of the couch.

FYI, I really wanted to post photos of this Olympic event, but the aforementioned team “uniform” prevented me from doing so.  

I’ve talked to my kids many times about the dangers of smoking and cigarettes. They have a plethora of ways to say no, if and when the offer ever arises.

We have a big copy of the Disney book “101 Dalmations.” (This will relate to the intro. I’m getting there.) Inside, there’s an brightly colored illustration of Roger smoking a pipe.

Connor was looking through the book while I washed dishes the other day. He paused on that photo, pointed at the pipe and said, “Mommy, what’s this?”

Inside, I cringed. Who wants to explain that to a two-year-old?

“That’s a pipe,” I said honestly. “It’s gross and yucky. It’s just nasty, buddy. Don’t ever use one.”

He seemed content with this answer. He picked up the book and carried it out of the kitchen.  I was relieved…

Until he came back.

He held up the book and looked at me and said, “Mommy, I punch the guy and say, ‘That’s NASTY!’”

He seemd so pleased with his solution. Maybe he’ll be the Surgeon General one day.

In all that we’ve gone through learning more about Brady’s allergy to casein (dairy), the rest of the family has picked stuff up about it along the way.

Case in point, last night’s conversation with two-year-old Connor:

Connor: “Mommy, can I have a drink of you’ pop?” He grinned sweetly.

Me: “Nope. Mommy poured you juice, remember? It’s on the table.”

Connor:“No! I can’t drink it. It has daiwy in it!!”

Valiant effort, but he didn’t get a drink.

It’s Vacation Bible School time around these parts. The boys have been so excited all summer. My oldest two are reciting their memory verses repeatedly today. Even though Connor is really too young to technically be involved, he still goes through the motions.

Yesterday he said, “Mommy, I sooo ‘cited for Spaykation Bible Skewl!”

“Good,” I said.

“I said it, Mommy!!” He squealed. “I say ‘Spaykation Bible Skewl!”

I didn’t have it in me to correct him. He sure tries.

Anyone out there know how to get lots and lots of purple marker off a two-year-old’s arms, legs and hands?

Just curious.

He used to be so cute.

Our crazy two-year-old Connor has a very strange view of death.

Today I found a new, bright red scratch on his cheek. I asked, “Hey, Bo, what happened to your cheek?”

“Um,” he explained. “It died.”

Last year, Nate received a box of DVD’s for his birthday — the complete first season of MacGyver was inside. It’s a “manly” show about a guy who “who favors brain over brawn in order to solve desperate problems. MacGyver’s main asset is his practical application of scientific knowledge and inventive use of common items—along with his ever-present Swiss Army knife and Duct tape.

The boys recently found the collection and asked Nate more about it. Wanting to raise real men, (I’m sure that was the reason,) Nate popped in the first DVD. The boys were mezmorized.

It has become somewhat of a ritual. The boys only ask to watch MacGyver when Nate’s home — and when I’m busy doing something else. It’s a real boys club. Evan isn’t even allowed, and she’s only 18 months! I can only imagine that they’re belching while they watch it. Otherwise, I’d be invited to at least bring the snacks.

Connor was recently telling me a bit about the episode they’d just watched. It went something like this:

Connor:“And then MacGyver did {some incredible feat involving a lollipop stick, a piece of duct tape and a turkey carcass right out of Martha Stewart’s yard…}”

Me:“MacGyver is so cool.”

Connor:“NO! He’s not YOUR Gyver. He’s MYGyver. And Andy’s Gyver… And Brady’s Gyver. Not your Gyver! MyGyver.”

I guess that’s why my stuff never gets fixed.

My parents are on vacation, so they spent the beginning of the week here with us. The boys climbed all over them and the girls grinned at them. Now my parents are back home, but exhausted.

Connor was sitting on Poppy’s lap the other day. They were quizzing Evan on her body parts. You know, “Evan, where’s your ear?”

She lost interest in the game quickly, so Connor took over. He started quizzing Poppy instead.

“Poppy, where’s your nose?” Poppy pointed to his nose.

“Where’s your neck, Poppy?” Poppy pointed to his neck.

Now’s when I’ll explain that Poppy has a double-chin… ‘Cause Connor’s next question was, “Poppy, where’s your ‘nother neck?!”

Poppy could not stop laughing. Is Connor smart, or just a smart alec?!

As the mom of many toddlers, I reserve the right to blog about potty-training from time to time. This is one of those times. :D 

Connor has been riding the potty train quite nicely for the past two weeks. He’s basically doing it all himself, and I’ll gladly step aside and let him be independent in this.

He’s been doing so well that we basically reserve the Pull-Ups for bedtime and let him wear “big boy pants” during the day. Some of his supply of underwear are those five-ply cotton training underpants. Today, after he woke up and did his business, I dressed him in a pair of those cumbersome giant undies.

As he was stepping into them, he looked up at me and grinned and said, “Mommy, dees are wike yours!”

Yikes…  I know bladder control is an issue when you’ve had a lot of babies, but come on! My undergarments are not made by Gerber.

Connor has recently had a renewed interest in potty training. I’m so busy that we haven’t had a “special potty day” again for him, but we’re instead just riding the wave, so to speak. Heh, heh.  I’m letting him go as often as he wants, offering much bribery encouragement, and praising him with high-fives and “woo-hoos” as loud as I can make them.

He’s doing great with this no-pressure tactic, so I’ll take it for now; however, I think he’s planning a vacation. How do I know?

Tonight, he did his business, climbed down and flushed. Like normal, he waved into the toilet and said, “Bye-bye, potty!” I giggled. Then he added, “See you later!”

Beach trip anyone?

And for good measure, he followed up with the instructions we usually give Daddy when he heads off to work: “Be careful and come home to me!”

Personally, I’d much rather it stay at the beach, forever on vacation… thankyouverymuch.