Oh, what a Spring Break. What an awful, wretched, broken break.
Except for the most awesome part. And truly awesome it was! Dowlan begins a job HERE in town after Easter. A job. A REAL full-time job with excellent benefits, decent pay and room to move up.
It started with weeds. Well, for me it did. Dowlan went Saturday morning to an 8 a.m. job interview while I faced my nemesis: hip-high weeds filling huge sections of our half-acre yard. After two days of pulling, the front yard was ready to mow, only we didn't have a lawnmower that worked.
Then came the throwing up. Charlie threw up Sunday morning, but just a few times. Mostly he laid around watching TV and looking dreary, weary and bleary. This gave me ample opportunity to pull weeds for 10-15 minute stretches, checking in with him between bouts. Dowlan and the girls came back from church about the time he perked up and then the weeding became a family affair.
Monday began with dentistry. The numbness had not yet worn off when it was time for me to take Charlie to see the psychologist for his first time. The therapies we've done in the past have run their course and I'm trying to figure out what to do next. The 'next' is going to the psychiatrist for meds to help with his overwhelming anxiety and enormous peaks of rage. About halfway through, my feeling started coming back into my face, and talking through the tingling/itching/drooling was indeed awkward.
Then more weeds are supposed to be in order, but I quit after not much effort. I'm blaming my misery on the dental work. Feed the kids. Say good-bye to Dowlan as he heads out of town, only a belt snaps and he doesn't make it off our street. I thank God that he did not try to take his car to his interview Saturday and that PennyVann had gotten him there safely.
Fix the car. Pack for camping. Sleep.
Tuesday had the worst beginning of all--Melody barely made it out of the carpeted room before throwing up. I barely got her on the couch and comforted before I began throwing up. Dowlan began mopping. Melody and I laid on opposite ends of the same couch, a bucket between us. At some point, Schrödinger begins to throw up as well, but at least he can be tossed outside. At some point, Dowlan heads back out of town to work. Melody and I are still not going very long at a stretch. At some point, he calls to tell me the excellent job news, but it scarcely registers.
Wednesday our entire bodies hurt. At some point that afternoon, the lawnmower gets bought and I get the front yard looking passable.
Thursday is time for more doctor appointments. I go to the ENT, where we determine sinus surgery is necessary this summer. Then we take Dixie up to the radiology department for a quick test, then a "quick" trip to the counselor turns into about four hours. (Don't worry about the radiology visit--they're just double checking her heart since she's on a stimulant. All is good.) At some point that day, Charlie is angry to find Dixie using the bathroom when he wants to use the solo toilet in the household. He begins screaming and throwing things. I scarcely remember it, as he screams and throws things a lot these days, but this becomes quite important later in the story. Also that night, we realize that the toilet is not flushing well.
Friday morning we wake up early so that I can take the kids to gymnastics day camp so that I can head to a different medical specialist for a "quick" and minor procedure, only I have to take a Wal*Mart detour for plumbing supplies. I work on the toilet for about an hour before heading to the doc. After waiting in the office for over two hours (as the doc was called in for emergency surgery that morning) I finally get called back and taken care of.
The procedure may have been minor, but the pain and misery are not. I go home and work on the toilet a bit more, clean a bit, then nap. Toilet, clean, nap. Go get kids, go clean, go plunge. Call my Mommy for help.
The next day, mom comes to watch the kids while I add a plumber's snake and driving to the gas station bathroom to my cycle of activities. Snake, clean, Stripes, nap. Snake, clean, Stripes, nap. Call my Daddy for help. Since he can't come until after church Sunday, mom takes the kids home for the night.
I sleep a lot. I sleep in and miss church, which is frustrating for a bit, but then I sleep some more before heading back out to the weeds. Poor Melody had woken up throwing up that morning as well. She was having some rather urgent trips to the bathroom to boot, which made bringing her home a rather frightening prospect. She and Papa stay home from church.
Papa and the kids arrive around 2 and he has The Big Guns when it comes to tools. He snakes from the toilet. He snakes from the pipe outside the house. He snakes from the top of the roof. Nada. He removes the toilet and sets it upside down in the shower and we all run into the hallway for the big reveal. Wrapped in soggy, used toilet paper is . . .
Melody's glasses.
We'd been missing those and knew they'd been in the bathroom during Charlie's tantrum, but neither Dixie nor I saw them go down the hatch and it never occurred to me to connect those dots.
Dad buys me a better weed puller on his trip to go get a wax ring from the hardware store. Toilet back in place, he goes to check how the line is from the house to the city's lines while I begin scrubbing the foul funk from every surface in the bathroom.
I clean up the glasses, which are completely unscratched. No bends, no scratches, no breaks. The only problem is that smell is not coming out. I leave them in a bowl of vinegar while I vacuum and steam mop all the floors and wash the rugs. There's no telling where all we stepped and what all was on the bottoms of our feet.
By bedtime Sunday night, my house is clean, my weeds fairly well taken care of, my kids all healthy again, my toilet working again. Just in time to enjoy the my vacation . . .
3/20/12
3/18/12
Contest!
Now it is time for a round of Guess What Angry Charlie Flushed Down the Toilet. Winner gets $5 PayPal. Leave your guesses in the comments. No cheating Oma and papa!
If no one gets it I all tell you Tuesday.
If no one gets it I all tell you Tuesday.
3/8/12
9iversary
Nine years ago tonight, I left my brother at the veterinarian's office and drove to church to walk down the aisle, wearing a veil and talking on the cell phone.
It was every girl's dream.
See, a month before our wedding, I moved into our new house. And Simon the Cat did not love the new house, therefore he would not use the litter box. Apparently, a large backlog of urine is decidedly not good for cats or their kidneys and emergency veterinary care was needed before we left on our honeymoon.
Because I had to get to my wedding rehearsal, which was just slightly more important than my Orange Boy, I left my brother with him after checking in and explaining, "This is my brother. I am leaving him to make any and all decisions regarding the cat's treatment including major procedures or putting to sleep, if it comes to that. I completely trust his judgment*."
During the rehearsal, the vet kept calling to ask questions. Then, as an entire room full of people are waiting for me to walk down the aisle one last time so we can go eat our brisket, they call back.
"We need a decision."
"That's why Trey is there. To make whatever decision is needed."
"Oh, he's not the owner. He can't make a decision for your cat. You have to make the decisions."
"A decision about what? I've answered a lot of questions, but I know nothing as to what is going on. I don't even know what 'decision' you're wanting me to make."
So they fill me in as I walk down the aisle. He will be fine, but needs a minor procedure that they can do that night. Then he'll be ready to come home Monday.
"I won't be here Monday. I won't be back in the state until Saturday."
"Can your husband come get him?"
"I won't have a husband until tomorrow. I am getting married tomorrow. Then we are leaving on our honeymoon. Tomorrow."
"Well, I guess you could come get him tomorrow if you take him on your trip. He can't stay unsupervised yet."
"I am not taking my cat on my honeymoon."
Simon has been one of the few constants in our crazy almost-nine years of marital bliss. We'd been dating 2 years when Dowlan drove me out to the no-kill shelter to pick him (and Abb . . . y**) out and bring him home. It was the same shelter we'd gone to to pick out Cassie, who had died of feline leukemia a few months earlier. We'd known she was positive for it when we first got her, which is why she could no longer stay in the home where she'd been. It is contagious, but she was healthy and had almost two good years left.
Simon is scraggly and scruffy and a complete wimp. He would purr and try to nuzzle cats who were trying to fight with him. Even when Schrödinger is at his pounciest, Simon never gave him a 'What?' look and a tail twitch. He was so considerate that he'd meow in the kitchen until we fed Cracker, the saltine-colored cat who gave birth to a litter of short-lived kittens under our old house one day and then stuck around for the next 6 years.
We used to joke that Simon Says was never any fun at our house, because all Simon ever Said was "Meow." He was a good kitty even if he did smell funny those last six months and occasionally drool too much. Simey was definitely a 'kneady' animal, especially on cold days when he caught you curled up under a fuzzy fleece blanket.
Sweet Simon passed away last Saturday. By our best estimate, he was 14 years old, having been guessed at 3-4 years when we got him 10ish years ago. It was a good, lazy kitty life and now he rests behind our barn.
Thanks for being a part of our marriage and family, Simon Boy.
*Disclaimer: When it comes to cats.
**Abb . . . y's fully name is Abbreviated Kitty. She has no tail. Abb . . . y is the abbreviation for Abbreviated Kitty. Nothing like a grammar joke for a cat name, especially one that mocks her disability. She has gone to live at Oma's House and Kitty Sanatorium as Schrödinger irritated the ever loving daylights out of her and put her even closer to the brink of psychiatric ruin.
It was every girl's dream.
See, a month before our wedding, I moved into our new house. And Simon the Cat did not love the new house, therefore he would not use the litter box. Apparently, a large backlog of urine is decidedly not good for cats or their kidneys and emergency veterinary care was needed before we left on our honeymoon.
Because I had to get to my wedding rehearsal, which was just slightly more important than my Orange Boy, I left my brother with him after checking in and explaining, "This is my brother. I am leaving him to make any and all decisions regarding the cat's treatment including major procedures or putting to sleep, if it comes to that. I completely trust his judgment*."
During the rehearsal, the vet kept calling to ask questions. Then, as an entire room full of people are waiting for me to walk down the aisle one last time so we can go eat our brisket, they call back.
"We need a decision."
"That's why Trey is there. To make whatever decision is needed."
"Oh, he's not the owner. He can't make a decision for your cat. You have to make the decisions."
"A decision about what? I've answered a lot of questions, but I know nothing as to what is going on. I don't even know what 'decision' you're wanting me to make."
So they fill me in as I walk down the aisle. He will be fine, but needs a minor procedure that they can do that night. Then he'll be ready to come home Monday.
"I won't be here Monday. I won't be back in the state until Saturday."
"Can your husband come get him?"
"I won't have a husband until tomorrow. I am getting married tomorrow. Then we are leaving on our honeymoon. Tomorrow."
"Well, I guess you could come get him tomorrow if you take him on your trip. He can't stay unsupervised yet."
"I am not taking my cat on my honeymoon."
Simon has been one of the few constants in our crazy almost-nine years of marital bliss. We'd been dating 2 years when Dowlan drove me out to the no-kill shelter to pick him (and Abb . . . y**) out and bring him home. It was the same shelter we'd gone to to pick out Cassie, who had died of feline leukemia a few months earlier. We'd known she was positive for it when we first got her, which is why she could no longer stay in the home where she'd been. It is contagious, but she was healthy and had almost two good years left.
Simon is scraggly and scruffy and a complete wimp. He would purr and try to nuzzle cats who were trying to fight with him. Even when Schrödinger is at his pounciest, Simon never gave him a 'What?' look and a tail twitch. He was so considerate that he'd meow in the kitchen until we fed Cracker, the saltine-colored cat who gave birth to a litter of short-lived kittens under our old house one day and then stuck around for the next 6 years.
We used to joke that Simon Says was never any fun at our house, because all Simon ever Said was "Meow." He was a good kitty even if he did smell funny those last six months and occasionally drool too much. Simey was definitely a 'kneady' animal, especially on cold days when he caught you curled up under a fuzzy fleece blanket.
Sweet Simon passed away last Saturday. By our best estimate, he was 14 years old, having been guessed at 3-4 years when we got him 10ish years ago. It was a good, lazy kitty life and now he rests behind our barn.
Thanks for being a part of our marriage and family, Simon Boy.
*Disclaimer: When it comes to cats.
**Abb . . . y's fully name is Abbreviated Kitty. She has no tail. Abb . . . y is the abbreviation for Abbreviated Kitty. Nothing like a grammar joke for a cat name, especially one that mocks her disability. She has gone to live at Oma's House and Kitty Sanatorium as Schrödinger irritated the ever loving daylights out of her and put her even closer to the brink of psychiatric ruin.
3/3/12
After school yesterday, the kids and I dropped by happy hour with my coworkers to say hi and eat some quesadillas. Charlie, between sugar packets, asked me, "First you kiss da bride, den you have babies. Is dat how dat works?"
I pointed to the pretty, single, child-free kindergarten teacher next to me and said, "Ask Miss Stacey. She'll know."
As Miss Stacey's laughter and surprise prevented an immediate response, Melody stepped in with additional information. She stretched her hands out slowly. "Well, in the middle you need 'the process' " she said as she applied the appropriate finger quotations at the end of her sentence.
I pointed to the pretty, single, child-free kindergarten teacher next to me and said, "Ask Miss Stacey. She'll know."
As Miss Stacey's laughter and surprise prevented an immediate response, Melody stepped in with additional information. She stretched her hands out slowly. "Well, in the middle you need 'the process' " she said as she applied the appropriate finger quotations at the end of her sentence.
2/19/12
Family Fun
Dowlan's in town for the weekend. I'm normally guilty of using his weekends home as a chance to nap and do things without the kids in tow, but we're in serious need of some familial bonding.
This morning we endured church together, then ate at Wendy's. We attempted to have actual conversations at a table with some success. After nixing the dessert idea, we stopped at the house just long enough for a few clothing changes before the girls had a Girl Scout thing, Dowlan and Charlie went to the park and I had a nap. (I couldn't pass up the opportunity for solitude entirely.)
After returning home, the kids decided it was time to count up the money in their piggybanks. The girls were up to nearly $40 and Charlie was over $12. He and daddy took off in pursuit of a Lego set. There wasn't quite enough change left for Hot Wheels, but his set was SuperAwesomeCool, so that was forgivable.
Then it was time. Time for Star Wars in 3-D.
The total ticket cost of $48.50 nearly knocked me over, but all five of us love Star Wars, Jar Jar and all. As we were settling into our seats with our snuck-in water bottles and $7 worth of popcorn I realized that we've never gone to a movie all together before.
I was a little worried about how Charlie would do, but he was far more quiet than the grown man behind us. Halfway through, Dixie got tired of the seat collapsing in on her and spent the rest of the movie on my lap. Melody sat riveted throughout.
As we were headed to the car, I saw an ice cream shop and thought, 'Why not?' Three kids cups later, we had a really nice time talking about the film.
We needed that.
This morning we endured church together, then ate at Wendy's. We attempted to have actual conversations at a table with some success. After nixing the dessert idea, we stopped at the house just long enough for a few clothing changes before the girls had a Girl Scout thing, Dowlan and Charlie went to the park and I had a nap. (I couldn't pass up the opportunity for solitude entirely.)
After returning home, the kids decided it was time to count up the money in their piggybanks. The girls were up to nearly $40 and Charlie was over $12. He and daddy took off in pursuit of a Lego set. There wasn't quite enough change left for Hot Wheels, but his set was SuperAwesomeCool, so that was forgivable.
Then it was time. Time for Star Wars in 3-D.
The total ticket cost of $48.50 nearly knocked me over, but all five of us love Star Wars, Jar Jar and all. As we were settling into our seats with our snuck-in water bottles and $7 worth of popcorn I realized that we've never gone to a movie all together before.
I was a little worried about how Charlie would do, but he was far more quiet than the grown man behind us. Halfway through, Dixie got tired of the seat collapsing in on her and spent the rest of the movie on my lap. Melody sat riveted throughout.
As we were headed to the car, I saw an ice cream shop and thought, 'Why not?' Three kids cups later, we had a really nice time talking about the film.
We needed that.
2/11/12
Things
How are Things? Hard.
Exhausting and trying in a way they have never been before. So very tested, so very alone.
While I have shared a great deal of this parenting and life journey here, there are Things I have kept to myself. These Things are currently overwhelming all else right now. While there are many of you readers I would love to share them with, the success of this blog has made it too public a forum.
I will be back when I can.
Exhausting and trying in a way they have never been before. So very tested, so very alone.
While I have shared a great deal of this parenting and life journey here, there are Things I have kept to myself. These Things are currently overwhelming all else right now. While there are many of you readers I would love to share them with, the success of this blog has made it too public a forum.
I will be back when I can.
1/17/12
Charlie had all this to say on the way to school today--
We didn’t go to school because it was Martin Day. It was Monday, but we didn’t go to school because it was Martin’s special day. He did not live a long time, but he did a lot of good things. He told guys to be nice and use nice words. He made a speech about a dream and it was a very good speech. Martin’s color was black. He wanted good people to be nice to everyone. Someone shot him one day. He fell over and then he went to heaven. If I go to heaven, I can see him someday.
Rosa went to jail. She sat in a white man’s seat on the bus. But she was tired. When they said, “Get up!” She didn’t and so she went to jail. She was just tired. Now bus guys can’t say that. You have to be nice to everybody on the bus. If you go to jail, you won’t see Martin because he’s not there. He’s in heaven. And I think Rosa is in heaven, too, even though she went to jail because she is not a bad guy.
1/16/12
Tic Tac Toe
Having spent a lot of the last month entertaining themselves in waiting rooms, other people's houses, restaurant tables and on long car rides, my children have developed an affinity for tic tac toe. The desire to win and inability to develop sufficient strategy has them taking many approaches.
In Olive Garden one night, I'm playing TTT with Charlie. Now there are Charlie-imposed RULES to doing anything with Charlie, but especially this game.
1.) He has to have the green crayon.
2.) You can have 'any color dat you want to have' but it better be red.
3.) He is never the X.
4.) He always goes first.
5.) You have to help him see where he can block you if it's on a diagonal.
6.) You can never win.
Well, you had me til #6, kid. I have no problem with taking you down. I will try to have an even mix of cat games and maternal victories, but I'm not going to let you win.
After about ten games, he starts developing his strategy. He'll go, then I'll go. Then he hovers his crayon over each spot and looks at my face. I assume he's looking for a sign that I don't want him to go there so that he can pounce. (Signs that his therapies are working! Looking for facial cues! Woot!!)
Once I've given him several misleading looks of horror, he goes for a more direct approach. Before he makes his move, he asks me, "Where do you tink you are going to want to go next? I need to block you."
I tell him a few times before I start to lie. He 'does not love dat' approach. So he has a new idea, "I will go to turns, den you can go two turns, den I can go two turns and den win!"
Huh, that worked. And it was the exact number of turns before you win. Every time. Good thinking, kid.
Thankfully, the food comes before we have to go down any more paths.
***
On the long road trip to Oklahoma, Dixie was annoyed to find herself the only backseat denzien still awake and so she started playing TTT with her imaginary friend. Dixie's either very generous or not very bright, because the imaginary friend won every game.
Someday, that girl is going to have to take the comedy act on the road. I wish I could remember the dialogue she had with herself. I was laughing too hard to drive in a straight line to the nearest bathroom and more than one type of accident nearly occurred.
***
The girls were playing one day in a waiting room and decided to expand the game to be a 4x4 grid rather than a 3x3, but couldn't agree on if you'd then need 3 in a row to win or if you had to go for the 4. They were also having a visual discrimination problem with the larger grid, especially when it was hand drawn and slightly wonky. They never could forsee strategy sixteen positions rather than nine.
***
Melody has a different TTT hang-up than Charlie's obsession with the big win. She wants to know why the cat gets all the credit for winning, when he's not even in the restaurant.
In Olive Garden one night, I'm playing TTT with Charlie. Now there are Charlie-imposed RULES to doing anything with Charlie, but especially this game.
1.) He has to have the green crayon.
2.) You can have 'any color dat you want to have' but it better be red.
3.) He is never the X.
4.) He always goes first.
5.) You have to help him see where he can block you if it's on a diagonal.
6.) You can never win.
Well, you had me til #6, kid. I have no problem with taking you down. I will try to have an even mix of cat games and maternal victories, but I'm not going to let you win.
After about ten games, he starts developing his strategy. He'll go, then I'll go. Then he hovers his crayon over each spot and looks at my face. I assume he's looking for a sign that I don't want him to go there so that he can pounce. (Signs that his therapies are working! Looking for facial cues! Woot!!)
Once I've given him several misleading looks of horror, he goes for a more direct approach. Before he makes his move, he asks me, "Where do you tink you are going to want to go next? I need to block you."
I tell him a few times before I start to lie. He 'does not love dat' approach. So he has a new idea, "I will go to turns, den you can go two turns, den I can go two turns and den win!"
Huh, that worked. And it was the exact number of turns before you win. Every time. Good thinking, kid.
Thankfully, the food comes before we have to go down any more paths.
***
On the long road trip to Oklahoma, Dixie was annoyed to find herself the only backseat denzien still awake and so she started playing TTT with her imaginary friend. Dixie's either very generous or not very bright, because the imaginary friend won every game.
Someday, that girl is going to have to take the comedy act on the road. I wish I could remember the dialogue she had with herself. I was laughing too hard to drive in a straight line to the nearest bathroom and more than one type of accident nearly occurred.
***
The girls were playing one day in a waiting room and decided to expand the game to be a 4x4 grid rather than a 3x3, but couldn't agree on if you'd then need 3 in a row to win or if you had to go for the 4. They were also having a visual discrimination problem with the larger grid, especially when it was hand drawn and slightly wonky. They never could forsee strategy sixteen positions rather than nine.
***
Melody has a different TTT hang-up than Charlie's obsession with the big win. She wants to know why the cat gets all the credit for winning, when he's not even in the restaurant.
1/8/12
Cocoa Puffs with the Dark Lord
Friday morning, I had breakfast in my kitchen with Darth Vader and a Clone Trooper. Melody had just discovered the book Scary Stories to Tell In The Dark and was reading them ghost stories while they ate Cocoa Puffs. Not only did the masks make it difficult, but, being a literal person, Melody had to read the stories in the dark.
We're back into the swing of things. School's been in for three days and, now that my computer AND voice work, classes are so much more productive than they were for the entire month of December. Charlie's bus driver has requested that we arrive earlier, as he now has another kid added to his roster. Dowlan's still living and working in another town and, despite a few interviews right before Christmas, that doesn't seem likely to change soon. We did get to be together as a family for holidays and travels and it made it that much harder for him to leave again.
Today's Lazy Parenting Tip: My Pampered Chef pizza stone sits in the bottom rack of my oven all the time. It catches drips from the top rack and is easier to store that way. As an added bonus, any time I make prepared freezer kid foods like corn dogs, fish sticks, chicken nuggets or frozen pizzas, I just plop them on there to warm. No large bulky dish to wash. It's also convenient for quesadillas and grilled cheese sandwiches.
We're back into the swing of things. School's been in for three days and, now that my computer AND voice work, classes are so much more productive than they were for the entire month of December. Charlie's bus driver has requested that we arrive earlier, as he now has another kid added to his roster. Dowlan's still living and working in another town and, despite a few interviews right before Christmas, that doesn't seem likely to change soon. We did get to be together as a family for holidays and travels and it made it that much harder for him to leave again.
Today's Lazy Parenting Tip: My Pampered Chef pizza stone sits in the bottom rack of my oven all the time. It catches drips from the top rack and is easier to store that way. As an added bonus, any time I make prepared freezer kid foods like corn dogs, fish sticks, chicken nuggets or frozen pizzas, I just plop them on there to warm. No large bulky dish to wash. It's also convenient for quesadillas and grilled cheese sandwiches.
1/4/12
Mornings with Charlie
This morning Charlie woke up, walked into the room and asked, "Is it morning?"
"Yes," Daddy answered as he made waffles.
"Is it Chwistmas?" he further inquired.
"No."
With that information, Charlie turned around and walked back to bed. If it isn't Christmas, it isn't worth getting up for.
Once he was re-routed into the kitchen, Dowlan finished a waffle. "Is that a good-looking waffle, Charlie?"
"Yes! It just needs chocolate and marshmallows and spwinkles on it! Huwwy, put it on quick before time runs out! But don't spill anything! Huwwwy, huwwy Daddy! You time is wunning out!"
Whew. The waffle wace was won.
Yesterday morning, Charlie found some stocking candy before he found the breakfast table.
Dowlan: What are you eating, Charlie?
Charlie: It tastes a little like watermelon. I do not know what it is called. I think I will call it 'Joey'.
Edited to add:
Charlie just told Dixie, "My bellybutton went on vacation."
Curious, I asked where his bellybutton had gone on vacation. Dixie leaned over and whispered, "Tell her 'Disneyland' so we'll have to go get it!"
One "-Land" is enough for this week and we've already been to Legoland Discovery Center. It rocked Charlie's little world (and Uncle Trey's)
"Yes," Daddy answered as he made waffles.
"Is it Chwistmas?" he further inquired.
"No."
With that information, Charlie turned around and walked back to bed. If it isn't Christmas, it isn't worth getting up for.
Once he was re-routed into the kitchen, Dowlan finished a waffle. "Is that a good-looking waffle, Charlie?"
"Yes! It just needs chocolate and marshmallows and spwinkles on it! Huwwy, put it on quick before time runs out! But don't spill anything! Huwwwy, huwwy Daddy! You time is wunning out!"
Whew. The waffle wace was won.
Yesterday morning, Charlie found some stocking candy before he found the breakfast table.
Dowlan: What are you eating, Charlie?
Charlie: It tastes a little like watermelon. I do not know what it is called. I think I will call it 'Joey'.
Edited to add:
Charlie just told Dixie, "My bellybutton went on vacation."
Curious, I asked where his bellybutton had gone on vacation. Dixie leaned over and whispered, "Tell her 'Disneyland' so we'll have to go get it!"
One "-Land" is enough for this week and we've already been to Legoland Discovery Center. It rocked Charlie's little world (and Uncle Trey's)
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