Sorry about the delayed writing about The Moped. I’ve actually decided to include it with a different moped story at a later time. I thought it would fit better. :)

Jack and I took a little visit to Chicago to visit our familia. Yay. We love familia. Nate’s brother, Tim, his wife, Mandi, their two sons, Levi and Isaac, and Nate’s mom all live there, and we had a real fun time watching little boys attack each other all weekend. Levi is 2 1/2, and Jack is now to the age where he can keep up with bigger boys, wrestle, and not care about Mama so much. Hanging out with Nate’s mom and siblings always makes me happy and sad at the same time. Especially because Tim and Mandi got married 3 weeks before Nate and I did, so there’s this sense in being around them that I should be going through the same things they are going through. But I’m not.

On another note, Jack’s potty training has now taken a backward step and he tells the potty “No no!” every time he sees it. We are still working on the “sneaky feelies”, and he now looks at women’s shirtlines and tells the shirtlines, “No no!” while pointing at their chests. While this is better in some ways, it is still very obvious that he has an obsession with breasts in another way. Whatever. And, finally, the newest toddler embarrassment. Jack is pretty vocal, and likes to practice his T’s (example: “lighT” – real strong on the T sound), and likes to exclaim random things like, “OH…wow.” “OH….guga.” “OH…boysh.” I have only figured out “OH…wow”, but there is another one that sounds like english but is gibberish, and is a real common one. He’ll be looking at his paci, exploring its rubber texture, crinkle his eyebrows together and say, “OH…schiT.” This one thus pulls together his favorites of S sounds, exaggerated T sounds, and “OH…” whatever. Therefore, it is one of his favorites. All the time, walking around the house, “OH…schiT”. I spell it with an C, because obviously he is not saying the bad word (he didn’t learn it from me, okay??), and says it like a german would say “sch”, like “schmidt” or “schnickerdoodle”. Sorry, couldn’t think of another example at the moment, but it’s more gutteral, I guess.

This morning, we’re cuddling on the couch , and he hears a motorcycle outside. “Motorcycle,” I say and imitate the motorcycle sounds.


“Yep, motorcycle.”


“Motorcycle.” He looks at me, studies my eyes.

“Mama…” Looks at my chest and waves his finger at it. “No, no!” Looks out the window again. “Schycle. OH…schiT.”

Classic. Another day, another toddler drama.