bespectacled, besmirched

Helena became very attached to Mister Potato Head's glasses this weekend.


She was actually enjoying a book whilst sitting on the potty in that one. She has made deposits both primary and secondary in the potty, but I'm not quite ready to ditch the diapers just yet. The good news is, she doesn't seem to have a strong opinion about it one way or the other. Maybe next month we'll commit to a few days at home to finish the deed.

My favorite mispronunciation of hers right now is "bubbin" for "button." And she does this very cute little hand motion when asking where something is. She cups her right hand and gently places it in her cupped left hand while asking, "Where Daddy? Where Sashi? Where Ah-poo? Where Hutsen?" She has changed her pronunciation of her name too. It was "Yah-yeh" and now it's "Laida-jane."

The big kids have decided that the source of all mischief and maladjusted behavior in our home is the fault of Mister Potato Head, incidentally. I do not think it has any thing to do with him losing his glasses. In fact, I haven't actually seen the real Mister Potato Head for a couple of months. The spirit of Mister Potato Head, however, is the subject of much blame and admonition. He prompts otherwise well-behaved children to whine, take things from their siblings, and forget to put their clothes in the hamper. He is the subject of ridicule ("Mister Potato head is a BABY who can't even RIDE a tricycle or eat without a BIB! Also he doesn't get lollipops!") and, if I didn't know better, I might think that Mister Potato Head has become something of a proxy for a certain small sister who used to bear an unfair amount of negative commentary until a certain mother issued a cease and desist.

In the spirit of full disclosure, the kids watched an entire hour of "Little Bear" this morning while I got the sheets washed and the toilets and sinks cleaned. And even though I had that hour of relative quiet, I still found myself yelling, "SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!" in my head (thankfully, I do seem to be able to keep it in my head, which is good for them, but equally destructive to my soul) on several occasions as the morning progressed and there was bickering and whining and drumming without end. But at least the toilets and sheets and sinks are clean, right?